At the Eye of the Storm (Chapters 2 + 3)

I decided to continue adding chapters to my story - if you haven't already, please check out chapter one.                                                         

                                                        Two

         Just three days later, a young girl sat poised in the exact same position, lying scrawled upon her bed. The harsh winter storm had been obliterating the landscape around her for 5 days now: the truth was, it seemed like no storm anyone had ever seen before. The wind and snow worked in perfect correlation to destroy all in its path, and many said it was now too dangerous to leave the house. So, everyone lay tense inside, waiting for the storm to subside.
         It wasn’t long before supplies ran low. After all, the storm had hit at such short notice: and food was scarce when the storm began. Her younger brothers cried with hunger, whereas her Godmother, Jane, simply sat in her bedroom most of the time, waiting for the snow to finally stop falling. As she arose from her bed, she too looked out the window as many others had done. All she saw were soft, harmless snowflakes: but she knew how ferocious they could be. She had heard it on the news earlier.
         She had gone downstairs to find the TV on, blaring loudly over all other noises and drowning them out. As usual, the TV was on the news – as if her godmother would ever put anything else on – but this time, something was not quite right. They were talking about their town: on national news. She decided to sit down and listen.
         “And this, Lucy, is the exact spot where the two bodies were found, quite literally frozen in their place. As the police observed…”
         ‘Frozen?’ she thought to herself, amidst the dreary voice of the news reporter. The storm had claimed two victims with its harshness – this was usual. There was always an old lady who couldn’t withstand the cold, or an old man whose central heating had failed. But frozen? She had walked outside to put the milk bottles on the step that same morning: it had been cold, yes, but nowhere near cold enough to freeze people in their places. Something was happening… and she didn’t like the sound of it.
         “…and so perhaps they might shed some light on these mysterious deaths. Back to you in the studio, Lucy.”
         “Thank you, Mark. And in other news, there has been a strange disappearance in that same area. The missing person is thought to be around 15 years old, but…”
         She didn’t want to hear anymore.  Death, destruction, devastation – were these what her life was to consist of for the rest of its entirety? She had had enough of death; she’d already had to cope with it before, and she wasn’t willing to go through it all again. She kept telling herself that she wasn’t strong enough to cope a second time.
         Sadie. She had always treasured that name. It was the name her father had given her, and it was the only thing left she had to remember him by. And it was a nice name, or so her father had told her when she was seven years old: ‘You have a beautiful name, Sadie, one to match your golden hair and radiant blue eyes. I promise, if it’s the last thing I do, I will make sure you live a long happy life with those you love by your side – because you’re special.’ But every time she thought about this, she couldn’t help but feel let down. He had left her in the arms of her incapable godmother, left her, and he had taken her smile with him. She wasn’t around the people she loved. She wasn’t happy.
         And what of her mother? She had abandoned her just months ago, taking away all normality left in her life. Though it was hardly normal anyway – it was a family tradition, at least on her mother’s side, to practice witchcraft and sorcery. The only remaining memory of her existence was the ancient spell book that lay ajar on the shelf above her, more an heirloom than a mystical relic to her.
         Dwelling on this thought sucked out all the graciousness she had left for her life, and so she simply went back into her bedroom and sat down. The storm annoyed her, but she couldn’t stay angry with it; she had always loved snow, and no matter what dreadful things happened because of it, that wouldn’t change. After all, it wasn’t the fault of anyone, was it? It was simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time; no-one decides where small disasters like this would hit. And she still wasn’t entirely sure it was the snow that had caused these deaths.

                                                          *****

         She could just lie there in bed. All day. It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t harm anyone. In fact, it was probably the best thing she could do at that point.
         Why did it call her like that? The harsh winds seemed to glide past the window, as if begging her to step outside into the storm and let herself be engulfed. She had a good mind to do it too – but she wasn’t completely insane. She decided to stay in her room.
         Surely one look wouldn’t hurt… perhaps she could just open the window and let the cold breeze tickle her face. She couldn’t resist – it was a strange urge, but she was a strange person. She opened the bedroom window, but the wind was blowing away from her: she was on the back of the house, so if she went to the front, the lounge for example, she could feel that exhilarating wind. Her godmother would take no notice – she never did.
         The lounge seemed different to her now, no longer part of the house, but part of the outside, the four walls screaming for the liveliness they had been deprived of. But even then, she knew that she was never supposed to just open the window and feel the wind – she was supposed to go outside. Because, through the snow, she could just see a man lying in the middle of the road: his face was blue. Suddenly, her head argued with the impossibility of this.
         She told herself that it was impossible for this man to be there – no one left the house during a storm. But, of course, this man was lying blatantly in front of her. She could just call an ambulance, though. But she knew she’d never forgive herself if this man died and she could have done something to help.
She couldn’t argue with this, and so she told herself that, despite her better judgements, she should leave the house and try to help him. Jane wouldn’t care – she was too busy daydreaming about money, and her job, and her life. It was best to just leave her as she was.
         As she reached for the door handle, she started to feel nervous, and regretted that she’d ever promised herself to help this man. What if this was it? What if this was the final chapter? She could go out into the storm and never return. She would never have said goodbye to her family and friends before her death; she was only 15. She didn’t want to face death. But she felt she had to.
         She opened the door and looked out. Snow was blowing wildly around, and she felt the cold almost instantaneously. She knew what she had to do. But did she dare leave the house? Did she dare stray that far? Did she dare go out into the blizzard?

                                                      Three

         It wasn’t murder. It wasn’t suicide. In fact, as far as the police could tell, nothing had been inflicted upon Stephan – he had just simply disappeared off the face of the Earth.
         Of course, disappearances were common. But it had been six days now, and with no news, it looked unlikely that they were going to find him alive anymore, especially as there was a storm raging around them. The confusing thing was, there wasn’t a scrap of evidence anywhere in the house – and virtually nothing outside it. If they were totally honest, the police thought there was no possible way they could get to the bottom of this. There weren’t even any eyewitnesses: no-one even pretended to know anything. Everyone had been inside on that day, due mostly to the bitter cold.
         Clueless: not exactly the position any chief inspector would want to be. Then again, did anyone else have any idea what may have happened? How could he be expected to do his job with nothing to go by? The idea in itself was moronic, and nobody expected any results. He may as well just sit back and do nothing: how could he make a difference at this stage?
         The supernatural. The idea had never occurred to the inspector before, and there was definitely a good reason for this. His career was already in jeopardy because of many failed investigations: he could just imagine himself broadcasting to everyone how this young boy has disappeared at the hands of magic. The thought didn’t bear thinking about. But the more he did think about it, the more realistic it seemed, and the more it seemed to fit. Because of the one thing they did find outside.
         Whereas the snow had created a thick layer on the ground all around, the shape of a body could be seen clearly in the grass, as if the snow feared to fall there. The snowflakes literally seemed to dodge the spot at all costs, swerving and crashing into the many other flakes around them. And stranger still, there was a small patch of ice in the centre of this shape.
         It resembled a heart.

                                                          *****

As she battled against the strong winds and blindingly cold snow, Sadie began realise just how harsh the storm was; she could see just how easily this man could have died. Using her arm to cover her face and fend off the bitter weather, Sadie plunged into the unknown, the unmerciful ice showering her in cold. All she waned to do was turn back and run to her house where she would be warm and secure – but as she had now stepped off the drive and into the road, she felt it was too late.
         She could see him clearly from here. That man she was risking her life for. She supposed he was in his late twenties – he had long brown hair, a short beard and was wearing cropped jeans and a leather jacket. She could see his skin was blue: she had seen that from the window. What she hadn’t seen from the window was the look of extreme shock upon his face, as if someone had struck him so suddenly he had had no chance to fight back – this was not the weather’s doing.
         Yes – he was dead. She knew before she felt his pulse; she knew before she reached out to feel his cheek; she knew there was no point trying the kiss of life. His cheek was as hard as ice – in fact, it was ice. He had stopped being just skin and bone, and had become one with the Earth. Sadie was certain that if he was just left there, he would eventually melt into water. And flesh. And blood.
         What had happened to him, she didn’t know – something deep inside her said that she didn’t want to know – but he was dead as surely as if someone had driven a dagger through his heart.  She closed his eyes and dragged his body to the edge of the road, where she laid his head to rest on the curb. There was no point calling for help: no-one would come. She wanted to cry for him, mourn his death, but nothing came. Not a tear shed from her eyes. Death had taken away her happiness – now it had taken away her ability to mourn. It worked in a strange way, death. But it was a friend really. It would be death that guides her soul to the next world after all.

                                                        *****

        He held his icy embrace strongly around his victim’s neck: He allowed her one last breath before plunging her into the darkness that was death. He didn’t take his time with this one, he didn’t savour her death: a new victim was coming, and, despite her lack of magical knowledge, she was strong.
        Too strong.


Well, hopefully, you enjoyed that. I will be adding more chapters. Before you tell me that I've made spelling mistakes, please check that they aren't just words spelt differently in America. Such as realise instead of realize, or savour instead of savor. I am NOT going through my book and changing all those words to American spelling. No matter how much you badger me about it.