SCREWING THE SNOWMAN
AN EERIE TRYST
by Neneh Gordon
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Neneh Gordon
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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Adult Reading Material – not intended for those under the age of 18.
Screwing The Snowman
Lewis and I woke up to a bright, white world that Saturday morning. It had snowed overnight and my little boy’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Snow, Mummy!” He would have run outside in his pyjamas if I’d let him. At four years old, it wasn’t the first snow he’d seen, but he wouldn’t remember the last time big white flakes fell from the sky.
I made him eat his breakfast, but he spent his whole time at the table gazing out of the kitchen window. He reminded me of his father when he did that.
I sighed. It was easier to think about Justin now. I could remember the good times without crumbling under the unfairness of it all. I’d tried to keep his memory alive, but it was so sad to think Lewis didn’t remember his father first hand.
After Lewis had his bath and I made him wrap up warm, we went into the garden for the obligatory snow inspection. It wasn’t as cold as I’d expected, but I was glad I’d worn my gloves. Everything was coated in a layer of fluffy whiteness.
“Look.” Lewis pointed further up the garden where a trail of tiny footprints dotted the ground.
“Probably next-door’s cat,” I told him and he ran the full length of the garden, making footprints of his own.
I love the winter. Everything gets so still and peaceful. It’s a season for contemplation and fresh starts.
“Can we make a snowman?” He ran back to me, his little cheeks bright pink with cold.
“Yes. But then we have to go inside and warm up. Okay?”
“Okay.”