Supernatural Friday: Original Story-Snow Angel

 

(Enjoy my short fantasy story, "Snow Angel." It is copyrighted, so just share the link if you want others to read it.)

Snow Angel

By

          Pamela K. Kinney

I remember that winter night when I saw the snow angel. It had just started to snow after supper, about six o’clock. Thanks to the weather, when the sky would have been just turning dusk, instead darkness covered the scene like a shadow.

Pressing my face against the ice-cold glass of the large picture window in the living room, I watched the snow falling in the dark. It was illuminated by an eerie kind of ghost-light. At least that’s how I thought of it.

Silence. The only movement came from a lone cat struggling through the drifts to disappear down a storm drain across the street. 

I sensed rather than heard someone behind me. I blew out my breath, fogging the glass.

“Mom, it’s time for bed.”

My daughter, Marie. Of course, who else would it be, since I lived with her and her husband, Andy?

I looked over my shoulder at her. “This feels like a reversal of when you wanted to stay up later. Remember those days?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Mom, but the doctor gave me strict instructions that you get enough rest.”

Grumbling, I moved away and headed down the hallway to my bedroom, Marie close on my heels. Not caring, I shrugged off my clothes and flung them to the floor. Marie flashed frustration on her face, but stooped and picked up the clothing, tossing it in a hamper nearby, snatching my nightgown and slipping it on. I ducked beneath the soft pink blanket on my bed. My daughter leaned over to give me a kiss on my cheek. Feather-soft, her lips tickled my skin.  

“’Night,” she said, her voice a whisper, “and dream of snow angels dancing in the snow.”

“That’s silly,” I said. “I only told you that story when you were a kid to get you to sleep during the night. It was my way of getting you to not worry about monsters in closets or under your bed.”

“There are all kinds of angels in Heaven, Mom. The snow angel is God’s own special answer to make sure that snow falls just right so that children will have a wonderful winter world to marvel at.” She stroked my hair. “Least that’s how you explained it to me. Now go to sleep.” 

She left me alone. I didn’t feel somnolent.  Instead I never felt so wide awake.

I slipped out of bed and sat on the window seat by my bedroom window. I peered through the glass and tried not to smog it up with my breath, hoping the snowflakes were still lit up with that odd glow. Thank goodness, they still were.

Just then, I noticed a dark shadow moving in the distance, outlined by the glow, too. Flickering off and on like a shorted bulb, it appeared to be gliding closer and closer to the house. I rubbed my eyes, thinking they were playing tricks on me. But when I took my hands away, something peered back at me from the other side of the window, and it was not my own reflection! 

Heart pounding, I toppled off the window seat. Its head—at least I assumed that was its head—popped through the glass as if it were water and looked down at me. Twin orbs of icy-blue glowed from that dark visage. The glow grew brighter and brighter. Unable to move or speak, I fell into that glow and a sense of peace and warmth filled me. I stood. 

“Who are you?” I whispered.

Silence.  It slid its head back through the window. I got the feeling that it wanted me to join it outside. Not even stopping for a robe or shoes, I unlatched my window and shoved it and the screen up. Frigid air invited itself in and I shivered, but I still climbed out. I dropped down into a soft drift of snow piled beneath my window. To my surprise, I didn’t feel the cold snow squished between my toes and the freezing wind of the blizzard biting into my exposed skin. A warmth filled me, and, feeling giddy, I danced through the snow, laughing. 

My visitor took my hands, and I stopped dancing and looked up at it. It loomed over me, the ghost-light revealing a long figure of ice and snow. Its wings, made not of feathers but icicles, chimed like church bells. The being was glorious and terrifying at the same time. I wasn’t frightened. 

“You’re a snow angel, aren’t you?” I asked breathlessly. “A real snow angel.”

It just pressed me against it. Together, arm in arm, we danced a waltz through the snowflakes. We seemed to be floating on air. Magical, like Christmas morning or that first kiss. 

There was nothing to fear, and, when the angel offered, I let it fly me up, up, through swirling snowflakes, high above the neighborhood.

****

At first I never gave a thought to my family. But when I heard the screaming and crying from far away, it drew me back. I peeked at the scene below. Morning had dawned and the snow stopped. Something small and indistinct dressed in a pink nightgown lay blanketed by snow right under my bedroom window. 

The window was still propped open. Marie dropped to her knees in the snow and snatched up that still form, screaming and crying. Andy stood over her, talking on his cell phone. 

Marie stared up at the sky. She acted like she couldn’t see me. But I saw her tear-stained face and the pain in her eyes. “Why, God, why?”

I wanted to go to her, but I felt a touch on my shoulder and I looked to see the snow angel hovering beside me. It held out a hand. I took it.

I looked back at Marie and said, “It’s all right, everything’s all right.”

Ready now? 

I nodded with a smile. We rose higher and higher and passed through a tear in the sky that appeared.  The tear closed behind us and I passed through shining gates, entering the snowy fields of Heaven.

Supernatural Friday: A Tale for Spring: The Blue Corn Maiden

It is spring and yet tomorrow, here in Virginia, we  will get sleet and snow even. But it looks like this may be the last winter fit for us. The Hopi have a story about the Blue Corn Maiden and the Winter Katsina, and how both are behind spring and winter. Enjoy.

Now it is said that the Hopi people loved the corn maidens. These are beautiful women who brought corn to their lands. Out of the sisters, the most beautiful and beloved was the Blue Corn Maiden. She brought delicious blue corn to the Hopi throughout the year. Not only gorgeous, they found her a kind and gentle woman too. 

One winter day, the Blue Corn Maiden went to gather firewood to warm her home when she came across the Winter Katsina. Common in all the tribes of the Pueblo area, katsinas were supernatural personifications of real world concepts. The Winter Katsina brought winter to the earth. 

Upon setting eyes on the Blue Corn Maiden, he fell in love with her, and invited her back to him home. Finding herself powerless to say no, Blue Corn Maiden soon became his prisoner when he blocked his door and windows with snow.

One day while the Winter Katsina was away, Blue Corn Maiden dug her way out through the snow and found materials to light a fire. Warmth flowed into the room, the snow melted, and the Summer Katsina arrived to save her. Angry that his bride had been saved, the Winter Katsina arrived to fight the Summer Katsina, only to realize that the two of them simply needed to talk it over.

Both made a deal. For one half of the year, the Blue Corn Maiden would live with the Winter Katsina, depriving the people of corn, but for the second half of the year she would live with the Summer Katsina, and the corn would grow again. The people began to look to the Blue Corn Maiden as a sign of springtime. Have you ever had those days in March, even maybe even snow appearing during April like will happen tomorrow on the East Coast, when it seems as though spring is on the way, only to have to put up with a snow storm the next day? That's because the Winter Katsina is not happy to have to give up the Blue Corn Maiden, and he's throwing a bit of a fit.

Winter Katsina, it’s time to let the woman go!

Supernatural Friday: Brrrr…It’s Cold: Myths and Legends of Winter; Part 2

Part 2 of the winter myths and legends. Enjoy.

Winter has so much interesting legends, myths, monsters, and gods and goddesses. Below is some more than the week before, but still, there are so much more. Like Babe the Blue Ox  was found by the giant, Paul Bunyan, in the snow in winter. These two are part of our American folklore.

There are the yetis, that are all year round, but because they are seen in the snowy Himalayas, we will add them to the winter myths and legends. But they are not the only monsters or beings we think of when it snows or winter’s harsh, cold winds blow.

Our first comes to us by way of the Inuit: Qiqirn. What if you live in the far North and traveling through the snow and ice when suddenly, you see a large, four-legged creature in front of you. It’s hairless, tufts appear on its ears, tail, feet, and around its fearsome muzzle. This creature is none other than the qiqirn. Lucky for you, the qiqirn is considered skittish if confronted, and flees when you shout its name. Lucky, as usually, they are potent hunters and excel at stalking their prey.

The next strange winter creature is a friendly one, via French-Swiss mythology. The barbegazi – from the French barbe-glacée, translating to “frozen beard.” These beings are small humanoid creatures with great beards and oversized feet. They travel around by using their feet as skis to zoom around the mountains. They also use their feet as snowshoes if the conditions call for it. During the warmer months, they burrow in deep tunnels within the mountains and aestivate until winter comes again. Barbegazi generally remain unseen by humans. That doesn’t stop them from liking people and helping them out, however. They help find animals that become lost, particularly sheep that wander from the flock, and they are always on the lookout for avalanches. If one is imminent, the barbegazi lets out a sharp whistle as warning.

Yuki-onna is known by many names, all a variant on “snow girl.” Yuki-onna appear as tall, beautiful women with black hair and blue lips. She either has transparent or pale skin that allows her to blend in with her surroundings, or wears a white kimono that serves the same purpose. The most common legend has yuki-onna being created by a woman perishing during a storm. She floats over the ground and strikes terror in those she encounters with her gaze. She can transform into a cloud of snow, and possesses lethal frost breath she uses on unsuspecting travelers that encounter her during snowstorms. Sometimes she manifests holding a child, and when someone offers to take the child, they are frozen in place. A few legends also have her killing people in their homes, though she must first be invited inside. Yuki-onna need to feed on the life force of the living, and she is sometimes depicted as a snow succubus, of sorts. In an interesting twist, she often spares those who are beautiful, good parents, or loving spouses. She’s big on promises being kept, as well. 

The ijiraq is a shapeshifter-shadow capable of taking any form it desires. Though their natural form is similar to a human’s, only their eyes and mouths are sideways, and their eyes glow a malevolent red. Ijirait will kidnap children and lead people fatally astray. They are only seen out of the corner of your eye, and cannot be seen if you are looking at them directly. They neither inhabit this world, nor are they quite outside of it, existing in two worlds at once. Legend has them as people who went too far north, and became trapped between the world of the living and the dead. The home of the Ijirait is a cursed land, causing even the most skilled of travelers to become lost, creating mirages that cause people to become increasingly turned around and panicked. Even if you survive an encounter with them, you will have no memory of it, as they cause forgetfulness to those they let live. Irjirait are generally considered evil, malicious, and to be avoided at all costs. The ijiraq is sometimes confused with the tariaksuq, another type of shadow-person. Tarriassuq (plural) are half-men, half-caribou monsters that can shift between their forms, and are possessed of malignant will, terrible claws, and shared the shadow people abilities of invisibility and non-detection with the ijiraq. 

Before we end this blog, we'll add a goddess to the mix. Beira is said the goddess of winter in Scottish folklore. Some sources also say she’s the Cailleach, a name which is said to be translated literally into English from Gaelic as ‘veiled one’. Apart from Scottish folklore, this figure is also found in the mythology of Ireland, though she is called by a slightly different name there. Moreover, they claim that a wintry figure is found in the beliefs of the various ancient groups that inhabited the British Isles. 

She may also be considered the mother of gods and goddesses in Scotland. Although a creator goddess, she was the type of deity who ruled through fear. Her subjects would begin to rebel against her reign when spring arrived, though she ruled undisputed during the winter. Those subjects looked forward to the coming of Angus and Bride, the King and Queen of Summer and Plenty.

There are versions of the stories where Beira is said to be an old blue hag with one eye. Her possession of one eye symbolizes her ability to see beyond duality, and into the oneness of all beings. In one version of the tale in which Beira is portrayed as a hag, the Queen of Winter seeks the love of a hero. If the hero accepts her, she would transform into a beautiful young maiden. This transformation symbolized the seeds that lay dormant in the earth during the winter, that sprouted with the arrival of spring. Here, Beira is seen not as an opponent of spring, but as spring itself.

In another version, Beira carries a magic staff that freezes the ground with each tap. At the end of each winter, she threw her staff under the holly and the gorse bush, both believed to be her sacred trees. The goddess transforms into a grey stone, signaling winter has ended.

Beira is also considered a goddess of death and rebirth, and another connection between Beira and the natural world makes her the guardian of animals during the winter, protecting them during the harsh season.

Next time, the polar vortex hits, or a terrible snowstorm, maybe we should make an offering to one of these beings. It couldn't be any worse than winterizing our homes and buying extra blankets, winter outerwear, or a shovel to dig ourselves out. 

Supernatural Friday: How Really Abominable is the Yeti?

With first snow of the year in my area, winter, the cold and all that snow made me think of a cryptid perfect for the first Supernatural Friday blog post of 2017. The Yeti, also known as the Abominable Snowman. So get a cup of hot chocolate, sit back with your computer, laptop, or tablet, and enjoy reading.

The Yeti is a cryptid creature that has long inhabited the remote and mostly uninhabited Himalayan Mountains, including Mount Everest, in central Asia, including Nepal, Tibet, China, and southern Russia. This being has been mainly seen as an erect bipedal animal, usually over six feet tall, with weight estimated between 200 and 400 pounds, covered with red to gray hair, and it makes a whistling sound, has a bad smell, and is usually nocturnal and secretive.

The Yeti has long been a revered figure in Himalayan mythology that predates Buddhism. The various peoples inhabiting Tibet and Nepal in the heart of the lofty range, which includes Mount Everest, the world's highest mountain, do not see the Yeti as a proto-human type of creature but instead a man-like animal that seems to exist with supernatural powers. The Yeti comes and goes like a hairy ghost, just showing up rather than being found by tracking. Stories are told of the creature having been seen flying through the air; killing goats and other livestock; kidnapping young women who are taken back to a cave to rear children; and throwing stones at humans.

Even the indigenous names of the Yeti reflect its mythological character. In some regional dialects, it is known as Meh-Teh, or Migoi—translated as “wild man of the snows.” There had been one journalist stationed in Calcutta who mistranslated one of a Sherpa’s words for the Yeti as “filthy” – or in British empirical lingo – “Abominable.” This is no doubt where the term, Abominable Snowman came from.  The Tibetan word Yeti is a compound word that roughly translates as "bear of a rocky place," while another Tibetan name Michê means "man bear." The Sherpas call it Dzu-teh, translated "cattle bear" and is sometimes used to refer to the Himalayan brown bear. Bun Manchi is a Nepali word for "jungle man." Other names include Kang Admi or "snow man" which is sometimes combined as Metoh Kangmi or "man-bear snowman." Modern Yeti researchers, including mountaineer Reinhold Messner, believes that Yetis are actually bears that sometimes walk upright.

The Yeti's existence has long been known by Sherpas and other Himalayan inhabitants who observed the mysterious creature for thousands of years, including an account by Pliny the Elder, a Roman traveler, who wrote in Natural History in the first century AD: "Among the mountainous districts of the eastern parts of India…we find the Satyr, an animal of extraordinary swiftness. These go sometimes on four feet, and sometimes walk erect; they have also the features of a human being. Due to their swiftness, these creatures are never to be caught, except when they are either aged or sickly…. These people screech in a frightful manner; their bodies are covered with hair, their eyes are of a sea-green color, and their teeth like those of the dog."

The legend of the Yeti was first reported to the western world in 1832 in the Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal by British explorer B.H. Hodgson, who said his guides had previously spotted a hairy bipedal ape in the high mountains. Hodgson believed the red-haired creature was an orangutan.

1899 was the first recorded Yeti footprints. This was done by Laurence Waddell. He reported in his book Among the Himalayas that the footprints were left by a large upright hominid. Waddell was, like Hodgson, skeptical of the stories of the mysterious ape-man after talking to locals who had not actually seen a Yeti but had heard stories of them. Waddell figured the tracks were left by a bear. The first detailed sighting of the Yeti came from N.A. Tombazi, a Greek photographer on a British expedition to the Himalayas, He watched an upright hairy figure walk like that for a while, stopping on occasion to uproot or pull at some dwarf rhododendron bushes. He remembered to grab his camera to take a photo, but the Yeti had vanished by then.

Yeti, not unlike Sasquatch and other legendary cryptids fascinate up for years. And we feel safe, being indoors in our warm homes, reading about a monster that stalks the freezing cold, snow-ridden landscape of the Himalayan mountainous range. It can’t get us—right? But the next time you hear something outside of your home in the dead of night, where snow covers the land like some icy blanket and your breath leaves your mouth like frozen clouds, it might be smarter to stay in that warm bed instead of investigating those abominable sounds. 

Supernatural Friday: Snow Angel (Original Fantasy Story) by Pamela K. Kinney

 

(Enjoy my short fantasy story, "Snow Angel." It is copyrighted, so just share the link if you want others to read it.)

Snow Angel

By

          Pamela K. Kinney

I remember that winter night when I saw the snow angel. It had just started to snow after supper, about six o’clock. Thanks to the weather, when the sky would have been just turning dusk, instead darkness covered the scene like a shadow.

Pressing my face against the ice-cold glass of the large picture window in the living room, I watched the snow falling in the dark. It was illuminated by an eerie kind of ghost-light. At least that’s how I thought of it.

Silence. The only movement came from a lone cat struggling through the drifts to disappear down a storm drain across the street. 

I sensed rather than heard someone behind me. I blew out my breath, fogging the glass.

“Mom, it’s time for bed.”

My daughter, Marie. Of course, who else would it be, since I lived with her and her husband, Andy?

I looked over my shoulder at her. “This feels like a reversal of when you wanted to stay up later. Remember those days?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Mom, but the doctor gave me strict instructions that you get enough rest.”

Grumbling, I moved away and headed down the hallway to my bedroom, Marie close on my heels. Not caring, I shrugged off my clothes and flung them to the floor. Marie flashed frustration on her face, but stooped and picked up the clothing, tossing it in a hamper nearby, snatching my nightgown and slipping it on. I ducked beneath the soft pink blanket on my bed. My daughter leaned over to give me a kiss on my cheek. Feather-soft, her lips tickled my skin.  

“’Night,” she said, her voice a whisper, “and dream of snow angels dancing in the snow.”

“That’s silly,” I said. “I only told you that story when you were a kid to get you to sleep during the night. It was my way of getting you to not worry about monsters in closets or under your bed.”

“There are all kinds of angels in Heaven, Mom. The snow angel is God’s own special answer to make sure that snow falls just right so that children will have a wonderful winter world to marvel at.” She stroked my hair. “Least that’s how you explained it to me. Now go to sleep.” 

She left me alone. I didn’t feel somnolent.  Instead I never felt so wide awake.

I slipped out of bed and sat on the window seat by my bedroom window. I peered through the glass and tried not to smog it up with my breath, hoping the snowflakes were still lit up with that odd glow. Thank goodness, they still were.

Just then, I noticed a dark shadow moving in the distance, outlined by the glow, too. Flickering off and on like a shorted bulb, it appeared to be gliding closer and closer to the house. I rubbed my eyes, thinking they were playing tricks on me. But when I took my hands away, something peered back at me from the other side of the window, and it was not my own reflection! 

Heart pounding, I toppled off the window seat. Its head—at least I assumed that was its head—popped through the glass as if it were water and looked down at me. Twin orbs of icy-blue glowed from that dark visage. The glow grew brighter and brighter. Unable to move or speak, I fell into that glow and a sense of peace and warmth filled me. I stood. 

“Who are you?” I whispered.

Silence.  It slid its head back through the window. I got the feeling that it wanted me to join it outside. Not even stopping for a robe or shoes, I unlatched my window and shoved it and the screen up. Frigid air invited itself in and I shivered, but I still climbed out. I dropped down into a soft drift of snow piled beneath my window. To my surprise, I didn’t feel the cold snow squished between my toes and the freezing wind of the blizzard biting into my exposed skin. A warmth filled me, and, feeling giddy, I danced through the snow, laughing. 

My visitor took my hands, and I stopped dancing and looked up at it. It loomed over me, the ghost-light revealing a long figure of ice and snow. Its wings, made not of feathers but icicles, chimed like church bells. The being was glorious and terrifying at the same time. I wasn’t frightened. 

“You’re a snow angel, aren’t you?” I asked breathlessly. “A real snow angel.”

It just pressed me against it. Together, arm in arm, we danced a waltz through the snowflakes. We seemed to be floating on air. Magical, like Christmas morning or that first kiss. 

There was nothing to fear, and, when the angel offered, I let it fly me up, up, through swirling snowflakes, high above the neighborhood.

****

At first I never gave a thought to my family. But when I heard the screaming and crying from far away, it drew me back. I peeked at the scene below. Morning had dawned and the snow stopped. Something small and indistinct dressed in a pink nightgown lay blanketed by snow right under my bedroom window. 

The window was still propped open. Marie dropped to her knees in the snow and snatched up that still form, screaming and crying. Andy stood over her, talking on his cell phone. 

Marie stared up at the sky. She acted like she couldn’t see me. But I saw her tear-stained face and the pain in her eyes. “Why, God, why?”

I wanted to go to her, but I felt a touch on my shoulder and I looked to see the snow angel hovering beside me. It held out a hand. I took it.

I looked back at Marie and said, “It’s all right, everything’s all right.”

Ready now? 

I nodded with a smile. We rose higher and higher and passed through a tear in the sky that appeared.  The tear closed behind us and I passed through shining gates, entering the snowy fields of Heaven.

Supernatural Friday One Day Early: Winter Night's Fright

Since I am out of town for Mysticon beginning tomorrow and plan to be in my room writing a wip today, I figure to go ahead and post Supernatural Friday one day early. The poem is an original one by me, so please do not copy and paste it elsewhere. Do share the link though, so others can come and enjoy it. Thank you.

                        Winter Night's Fright                                                 

                                      By

                     Pamela K. Kinney

                 Snowy winter night
                 Full of fright,
                 Dreams turn to nightmares
                 Snow to ghosts,
                 But fear not, dreamer
                Warm beds melt cold monsters.

Supernatural Friday: Snow Angels Forcasted for Your Fourth

Something to cool off your hot 4th of July Friday, since snow is the focus of my fantasy tale. This story is copyrighted, so please do not copy it off and paste it elsewhere. Do share the link to here to all your friends and relatives to read.

Snow Angel

By

 Pamela K. Kinney

I remember that winter night when I saw the snow angel. It had just started to snow after supper, about six o’clock. Thanks to the weather, when the sky would have been just turning dusk, instead darkness covered the scene like a shadow.

Pressing my face against the ice-cold glass of the large picture window in the living room, I watched the snow falling in the dark. It was illuminated by an eerie kind of ghost-light. At least that’s how I thought of it. Silence. The only movement came from a lone cat struggling through the drifts to disappear down a storm drain across the street.

I sensed rather than heard someone behind me. I blew out my breath, fogging the glass.

“Mom, it’s time for bed.”

My daughter, Marie. Of course, who else could it be, since I lived with her and her husband, Andy?

I looked over my shoulder at her. “This feels like a reversal of when you wanted to stay up later. Remember those days?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Mom, but the doctor gave me strict instructions that you get enough rest.”

Grumbling, I moved away and headed down the hallway to my bedroom, Marie close on my heels. Not caring, I shrugged off my clothes and flung them to the floor. Marie flashed frustration on her face, but stooped and picked up the clothing, tossing it in a hamper nearby. I put on my nightgown and ducked beneath the soft pink blanket on my bed. My daughter leaned over to give me a kiss on my cheek. Feather-soft, her lips tickled my skin.

“’Night,” she said, her voice a whisper, “and dream of snow angels dancing in the snow.”

“That’s silly,” I said. “I only told you that story when you were a kid to get you to sleep during the night. It was my way of getting you to not worry about monsters in closets or under your bed.”

“There are all kinds of angels in Heaven, Mom. The snow angel is God’s own special answer to make sure that snow falls just right so that children will have a wonderful winter world to marvel at.” She stroked my hair. “Least that’s how you explained it to me. Now go to sleep.”

She left me alone. I didn’t feel somnolent, instead I never felt so wide awake.

I slipped out of bed and sat on the seat by my bedroom window. I peered through the glass and tried not to smog it up with my breath, hoping the snowflakes were still lit up with odd glow. Thank goodness, they still were.

Just then, I noticed a dark shadow moving in the distance, outlined by the glow, too. Flickering off and on like a shorted bulb, it appeared to be gliding closer and closer to the house. I rubbed my eyes, thinking they were playing tricks on me. But when I took my hands away, something peered back at me from the other side of the window and it was not my own reflection!

Heart pounding, I toppled off the window seat. Its head—at least I assumed that was its head—popped through the glass like it was water and looked down at me. Twin orbs of icy-blue glowed from that dark visage. The glow grew brighter and brighter. Unable to move or speak, I fell into that glow and a sense of peace and warmth filled me. I stood.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

Silence. It slid its head back through the window. I got the feeling that it wanted me to join it outside. Not even stopping for a robe or shoes, I unlatched my window and shoved it and the screen up. Frigid air invited itself in and I shivered, but I still climbed out. I dropped down into a soft drift of snow piled beneath my window. To my surprise, I didn’t feel the cold snow squished between my toes and the freezing wind of the blizzard biting into my exposed skin. A warmth filled me and feeling giddy, I danced through the snow, laughing.

My visitor took my hands, and I stopped dancing and looked up at it. It loomed over me, the ghost-light revealing a long figure of ice and snow. Its wings, made not of feathers but icicles, chimed like church bells. The being was glorious and terrifying at the same time. I wasn’t frightened.

“You’re a snow angel, aren’t you?” I asked breathlessly. “A real snow angel.”

It just pressed me against it. Together, arm in arm; we danced a waltz through the snowflakes. We seemed to be floating on air. Magical, like Christmas morning or that first kiss.

There was nothing to fear and when the angel offered, I let it fly me up, up, through swirling snowflakes, high above the neighborhood.

****

At first I never gave a thought to my family. But when I heard the screaming and crying from far away it drew me back. I peeked at the scene below. Morning had dawned and the snow stopped. Something small and indistinct dressed in a pink nightgown lay blanketed by snow right under my bedroom window.

The window was still propped open. Marie dropped to her knees in the snow and snatched up that still form, screaming and crying. Andy stood over her, talking on his cell phone.

Marie stared up at the sky. She acted like she couldn’t see me. But I saw her tear-stained face and the pain in her eyes. “Why, God, why?”

I wanted to go to her, but I felt a touch on my shoulder and I looked to see the snow angel hovering beside me. It held out a hand. I took it.

I looked back at Marie and said, “It’s all right, everything’s all right.”

Ready now?

I nodded with a smile. We rose higher and higher and passed through a tear in the sky that appeared.  The tear closed behind us and I passed through shining gates, entering the snowy fields of Heaven.

Supernatural Friday: Wintry Bite of the Beast (Original Poem)

Wintry Bite of the Beast

by

Pamela K. Kinney 

(copyrighted by Pamela K. Kinney, so please share the link, not the poem)

It’s cold tonight,

Out here

in the snowstorm.

Winter’s bite

puts ice

in my blood

But something else

is with me

It hides among the white,

Full of dark purpose

Full of icy intent

No longer

able to move,

I lay among

the snow drifts

It approaches

My death is

oh so close

I close my eyes

And let the

snow beast

Sink its ice-covered fangs

deep,,,deep

into my soul.