by Keith Worth

Created on: December 31, 2010

The snowball came out of nowhere. The frozen missile caught me across the left cheek bone and spread on impact. Oblivious to the powder creeping down my jacket, I ducked before another attack could follow.

Sapphire eyes darted in paranoia, but saw nothing. I rose slowly, clutching a glove full of frozen ammunition to return fire. Unless Mr. Morten’s snowman had blindsided me, I had no suspects: the yards and the street were empty.  For some reason that thought lingered in my head longer than it should have, that snowman the old man made with his grandchildren was creepy. It had proportion issues, a tiny head on top of  two emasculate boulders. The imposing Goliath with the shrunken head, it certainly looked like the type of snowman that might redirect its anger on an unsuspecting neighbor. Especially if the victim  had made comments about the snowman’s appearance.

 “Just your imagination.” I whispered to myself. Imagination, that’s all we kids did if our parents could be believed. We just sat around and imagined and had it easy. I wish. I wasn’t going to imagine my chores done, or imagine new video games and toys into existence. No, imagination didn’t bring the candy to the room. We kids really stressed to figure out how to get adults to share the wealth.

 I had barely turned to resume my walk home when a second snowball struck me directly in the side of my head. Imagination be darned, I snatched up a fistful of snow and hurled it at the offending snowman.

 “Bad Frosty!” I yelled petulantly as the glob of mush knocked off its shrunken head.

 Knowing Mr. Morten and his grand kids wouldn’t be happy that their snowman was the casualty of a brief but deadly snowball fight, I ran for my house. Just as I reached the safety of my door I looked over my shoulder, intending just a glance. Instead I stopped in my tracks. The snowman’s head was back.

 “I’m sorry!” I shouted across the deserted street and leaped into the safety of my home. It took me a minute to gather the courage to peek out the window, but when I did I saw the Morten grandchild emerge from behind the snowman and fall over themselves laughing.

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