#Goldilocks and Three Grim Fates: And This One is Too Cold

#Mythpunk #Horror
#Wss366 #Mastoprompt 12/14 #TimeTravelAuthors 12/13 #WordWeavers 12/14: injuries

“We need to get out of here!” I yelled as soon as I had recovered from seeing my wife burned at the stake.

“We can’t leave her,” Claire sobbed. But I knew my duty and what Rebecca would have wanted. That was to get our daughter to safety. I could return here with a priest or a medium or someone else—anyone—to see if we could recall Rebecca.

I grabbed Claire and dragged her to the door. She kicked and screamed. Her nails tore at my hands, but I held on. Finally, she broke free when I tried to open the cabin door.

For a second, I was paralyzed, torn between opening the door and catching her again. Then, there was a #popping noise, and I felt a sharp pain run down my back. Only after I’d hit the floor did I realize what had happened. I had thrown out my back while trying to do both.

It was an old injury, but when it went out, I couldn’t move for weeks.

Paralyzed, I watched Claire run to the bedroom, screaming her mother’s name. “Rebecca! Mommy!

Then silence fell.

“Claire, honey. Help me.” I called. “We need to get out of here so we can bring someone back to rescue Mom.” I wasn’t #optimistic, though. Laying her soul to rest was probably the best we could do.

I waited, #hoping I’d convinced Claire.

“Okay,” she replied, coming out of the bedroom. Sparkling white gems dangled from the torn fabric of her white dress. The words “Anastasia screamed in vain” came to me from somewhere.

I shivered when she spoke again, in a #faraway, forlorn voice: “They came for them. Мама, папа.”

Slowly, her eyes focused.

“I’ll help you, папа,” she continued, her voice still dreamy.

She re-entered the bedroom, where I could see her next to a chest of drawers. When she pulled out the first drawer, she dumped it out. Clothes, a length of rope, and other odds clattered to the floor.

“This one is too messy,” she chanted. I heard the next drawer and chant, “And this one is too empty.”

Finally, she opened the bottom drawer and took something out.

“And this one is so cute. The Santa looks just like you, папа.”

She held a snow globe depicting Santa in a town square. In the background, a palace stood amid snowdrifts. When she shook it, snow flew—dazzling, blinding, a sheet that obscured the room.

She repeated, “Just like you.”

The snow brushed my face. In the background, I heard a horse scream and a gunshot.

3/4

#TootFic #MicroFiction #Serial #NMFic #NMV366 #NMSAM #NMTTA