As I’m walking him, something lands in the snow in front of us. Harry runs over and picks it up. When he comes back and presents it to me, I realise that it’s a carrot.
A carrot? Where on earth does a carrot come from in the middle of the street? I glance around. There is no one else around to throw a carrot. And that’s when I realise that the snowmen have carrots for noses. The snowmen are still lined up perfectly in every garden, showing no signs of melting or decomposing even though we haven’t had a good snowfall for days.
They are increasingly eerie, and the longer they stay there with their perfect bodies and smirking faces, the creepier they get. No one seems to notice that none of them are in the position they started in.
I throw the carrot away and tell Harry not to go after it and carry on walking, until something else hits me in the back. This time it is a snowball. I look around for who threw it, but again there is no one.
I shake myself off and continue my walk until something else hits me in the shoulder. It bounces off my jacket and lands in the snow. I bend over to get a closer look. It’s a lump of coal. I stop and look around, trying to ignore the snowmen, and wait. Whoever is throwing this stuff must be hiding behind something. If I look for long enough, they will have to move eventually.
I survey the street for about five minutes, but there is no sign of anyone. Mum will start worrying if I dawdle for too long, so I give up and keep walking.
Another snowball hits me in the back almost immediately.
I spin around but there is still no one there.
“Come out,” I say quietly. I really want to shout it, but it’s early and I don’t want to wake the people who live in this street.
No one comes out. There’s no movement anywhere.
I carry on walking but my pace speeds up. Another carrot glances off my arm. I look over my shoulder but I don’t expect to see anyone and I don’t.
I walk faster until another snowball hits me in the leg, and then I break into a jog. Harry keeps up nicely.
I know it’s crazy, but I think it’s the snowmen. I think they’re pelting me with their body parts. I know it’s madness, and I know that it’s probably just some little kid following me down the street, but if it is, then he’s very good at hiding and at keeping up with me as the hits keep on coming no matter how fast I go.
None of the objects are hard, and none of them hurt me, and I don’t think they’re meant to. I think they’re meant to scare me even more than those horrible snowmen already do.
The attacks stop as I get near my house. I can’t help but glance at the snowman in our front garden. I wish Pippa didn’t like it so much. It would make me so happy to kick it down.
When I get back, I wash my hands, grab my school stuff and steel myself to go into the kitchen. Seth’s standing against the counter drinking what smells like coffee, Pippa’s at the table eating a bowl of Cheerios, and Mum’s bustling around getting Pippa’s packed lunch together. How can they all act so normally when our lives are falling apart?
And why does no one but me seem in the least bit concerned about the possibly sentient snowman in the garden?