Author's Note: Hello everyone! I saw Rise of the Guardians this weekend, and I loved it so much that I couldn't get it out of my head, so I decided to create this little piece. This will be a multi-chaptered story if you readers desire! Let me know your thoughts!
Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.
Chapter One
I'm eight years old again. I am standing in a dimly lit hallway covered head to toe with white flour. A nervous grin has replaced my previous cheerful expression. I sneeze and my mother laughs, smiling at me. She is now pushing both of her arms through her black winter coat. After adjusting her scarf, she zips ups her jacket and places a tender kiss on my forehead and promises to return in less than thirty minutes. I tug on her jacket sleeve, silently asking her if she would reconsider, forget the half finished cookies, and remain at home with me.
She shakes her head and reassures me that there is nothing to be afraid of, and that she again, will return home soon with the chocolate chips that I previously oh so desired. I regretfully let go of her arm and wave pitifully as she walks out the front door and unlocks the silver car that is parked in our driveway.
I close the door and walk towards the large living room window. I pull back the curtains and watch as my mother's car drives down the street. I crane my neck struggling to catch a final glimpse of the car, but as it drives further away I finally drop the curtains and move away from the window.
My feet make a soft padding sound as I walk down the corridor that leads into the family room. I plop down on the couch and grab the remote to turn on the television but before I can, something stops me.
A creeping sensation that something is terribly off quickly develops and spreads through my body like wildfire. I try to shake it off but it's persistent, the feeling that something very bad is about to happen envelopes me.
I slowly stand up and grip the phone that's on the rounded coffee table beside the couch. I am two seconds away from pressing the button labelled 'one' to speed dial my mother when I hear the slightest creak from upstairs.
It's so faint that if I was watching television I would not have noticed it. An icy cold feeling washes over me and I can suddenly feel every inch of my body as if it were on fire. I suck in a deep breath, stand up, and slide my sock covered feet over the hardwood floor of the family room, but I pause in mid-step as I hear another faint creak, this time directly above my head.
I tighten my grip on the phone, and clench my teeth together, moving my head towards the ceiling. My eyes stay trained on the white ceiling, and when I look back down, oh how I wish I didn't, I let out a bloodcurdling scream.
A man as tall as my father, wearing all black and a ski mask, stands in front of me. I cannot stop screaming and as he advances towards me, I fling the only thing that I have, the phone, at his figure. As soon as I do, I regret it as I realize it does nothing to stop the man that is quickly approaching me.
I begin hyperventilate: my whole body is shaking uncontrollably as I beg him not to hurt me. I back up against the wall, tears streaming down my face. Through my tear muddled vision, I see him draw something shiny from his back pocket: it is too late when I realize that it is a knife.
He has thrown the large blade directly at me and I shriek, covering my head with my hands. That does nothing to protect me and I cry out as the knife makes contac-
My eyes burst open and my whole body is flung forward by an unseen force. I regain a sense of where I am, realize that I am safe, and scramble backwards until I feel my back against the cool headboard of the bed.
I place my hand on my chest: my heart feels as if it is ready to escape the confinement of my body. It thuds loudly into my outstretched palm and I take deep calming breaths to slow it down. I place my head in my hands and release a small whimper.
I slide my feet from underneath the warm covers of my bed, and place them on the floor. They sink into the soft carpet as I grope around my nightstand to find my glasses. My hand bumps into the metal frames and I slide them on, the room clearing up from its previous blurriness. I stand up and stretch my arms over my head, hoping to clear my mind of the nightmare that I had just a couple of moments ago.
At times I genuinely yearn for it to be just a nightmare, but the reality is that it's not. My mind flashes back to that horrible day nine years ago, the day when I almost lost my life. If my father had not come home when he had, he would have found his little girl gone.
I shudder as the feelings of fear begin to creep at the corners of my mind, but I push them down.
I pad down the hallway to my nine year old brother's room and open the door to peer inside. An old habit, I suppose. I close the door softly when I realize that he is safe and make my way downstairs towards the kitchen. I switch on the light and grab a clean glass from the dishwasher and fill it up with water from the tap. The cool liquid trickling down my throat helps calm me and when I place the glass back down on the counter I feel as though the after affects of the episode that had just transpired have all gone, washed away by the same water that I had just drank.
I turn off the light in the kitchen and make my way back upstairs. I pause at the window that is located at the end of the upstairs corridor leading to my room. I place my head against the cool glass and peer out into the darkness.
I attempt to stifle my small yelp of glee when I notice that it is snowing outside. Winter is my all around, hands down, favorite season. There is just something about giving gifts and bringing happiness to those that you love that makes it hard for one not to enjoy the holiday. I clasp my hands together in delight as I smile up at the stars and moon.
It is nights like these when I am truly thankful to be alive and safe. I whisper a small prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening and as I do I can feel a small tear drop rolling down my cheek. It hangs off my chin before lightly dripping onto the window pane. I didn't even realize that I was crying. I am a mess of emotions tonight, the fear of the nightmare, the joy of seeing snow, it's overwhelming and I can't help but drift my thoughts back to the core of where it all began.
Ever since that one terrible day when I was young, I could not help but feel as though I had lost my childhood. I was traumatized and scarred at eight years old. My parents had tried everything to get me to open up to them, to become that same little girl that they had before that one horrendous day. They even went as far as to move cities and hiring a child physiatrist. Nothing worked, so eventually they gave up. As days, months, and years went by, I began to slowly come out of my shell. I began to talk to my parents again, to partake in activities at my new school, to make friends, and to try and become that same little girl that my parents thought they had lost.
It worked for a while: I managed to shut out the negative feelings that I was feeling, but the fear of being abandoned and alone again gnawed away at me every night when I would close my eyes. The fears would manifest themselves into dreams of that terrible day, dreams where I wouldn't get away from my attackers, dreams where my father wouldn't come.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts once more, and breathe in and out deeply.
My warm breath creates condensation on the window so I take my finger and draw a childish three line snowflake. I close my eyes and dare to make the wish that I have held in for so long.
As I tightly squeeze my eyes, I wish that I could regain my childhood, that I could put the past behind me and finally move on.
I let my hand drop from the window but before I can move away something catches my eye from outside.
I readjust my glasses that are currently drooping on my nose bridge, and strain my eyes into the darkness of the night. For what I am looking for, I have no clue: I swear that I saw a flash of something moving outside but I can't see anything now.
There it is again!
I can feel my mouth gape open. It can't be. I squint my eyes and press my hands against the glass of the window. I cannot believe it. There is a person, a living person, or something of that sort, leaping from roof to roof!
My eyes cannot rip away from the sight and as the person-thing, leaps closer I realize that it is a boy. A teenager nonetheless! And, he is holding a stick. A teenage boy is leaping to and from the roofs of houses with a stick.
Yep, I have officially gone insane.
Suddenly, a flash of blue blurs past the window with a strong gust of window that follows. It causes the old wooden pane to rattle and my eyes dart in the direction the blue.
From a distance I could still see the boy!
Even in the pitch black night, he is hard to miss! From the back I could see he has hair that is tinged a silver hue, a blue sweater (would explain the blue blur), and that's about all. I push myself away from the window, attempt to gather what's left of my thoughts, and turn away from the odd sight that I had just witnessed.
I mentally assess and attempt to reassure myself that I am only seeing this as a cause of the mental distress I suffered tonight. I chant this like a mantra in my head as I head back to bed.
As I dive under my warm covers I fail to notice the faint tendrils of frost that begin creeping along the corners of my windows, the beginnings of a beautiful and intricate pattern that would soon greet me in the morning.