The police weren't saying anything. The news called "him"a literal ice-cold killer for the way the victims were always found in snow-dusted homes with the closest window to them wide open. There were never any signs of forced entry so all fingers pointed to someone posing as a salesman.
All I know is that it wasn't human, I found that out when I narrowly avoided becoming the next headline.
I pinpoint the start of it hunting me when I walked past one of its victims homes on the way to a friend's house. It may have been fairly cold out but the wind that drove right through me felt like I'd just been submerged in the arctic ocean.
From that evening onwards I couldn't get warm enough, no amount of piping hot tea of electric blankets eased the bone-rattling icy ache. People began to comment on how pale I was getting and how they could see my breath no matter how warm the place was.
I didn't notice my breath until a few evenings ago when every misty exhale showed a perfectly formed arm reaching out from my mouth, translucent fingers fumbling at the window latch while I retched and tried to pull back. The more I pulled the more it pushed until I felt something let go of the back of my throat, allowing me to breathe properly again as I fell to my knees and vomited nothing but cold saliva.
The sound of my window opening halted my slow descent into the numbness of shock. I looked up in time to see the window closed by a hand that looked more like clumped snow with icicles shoved roughly into it. Thank heavens I didn't see its face, I dread to think what kind of unearthly creature it might resemble or worse - it may have the face of someone I know!
With every retreating step it took, the air around me grew warmer.
All I know is that it wasn't human, I found that out when I narrowly avoided becoming the next headline.
I pinpoint the start of it hunting me when I walked past one of its victims homes on the way to a friend's house. It may have been fairly cold out but the wind that drove right through me felt like I'd just been submerged in the arctic ocean.
From that evening onwards I couldn't get warm enough, no amount of piping hot tea of electric blankets eased the bone-rattling icy ache. People began to comment on how pale I was getting and how they could see my breath no matter how warm the place was.
I didn't notice my breath until a few evenings ago when every misty exhale showed a perfectly formed arm reaching out from my mouth, translucent fingers fumbling at the window latch while I retched and tried to pull back. The more I pulled the more it pushed until I felt something let go of the back of my throat, allowing me to breathe properly again as I fell to my knees and vomited nothing but cold saliva.
The sound of my window opening halted my slow descent into the numbness of shock. I looked up in time to see the window closed by a hand that looked more like clumped snow with icicles shoved roughly into it. Thank heavens I didn't see its face, I dread to think what kind of unearthly creature it might resemble or worse - it may have the face of someone I know!
With every retreating step it took, the air around me grew warmer.
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