The drive, the lawn, the whole garden were covered in a heavy white fleece, and John felt compelled to stop and listen to the new hushed world around him. The only sound was his own breathing and the distant noise of the servants inside the house putting up the last of the decorations. It was a dreamscape of muted sound, muted colour. John took a deep breath and the cold air filled his lungs. It made him gasp with the shock of it and he panted it out in little clouds of mist. He smiled to himself. He was sure that the snow must be too deep for his uncle to travel, and if there was to be no Uncle, that meant no Charles either. No Cousin Charles! What a Christmas present that would be, he thought. John picked up two handfuls of snow and crushed them together, letting a cascade of snow dust fall to the ground, glittering like tiny diamonds as it did so. He grinned. It was the perfect consistency. John leaned back and hurled the snowball with all his might up into the tall pine at the corner of the drive.
What do You think about Christmas Tales Of Terror?
