Snowman, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Snowman
Foreword
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Epilogue
ALSO BY WALSH WETTENGLE
POETRY
Absinthe & Iron Cages
SNOWMAN
A Christmas Horror Story
WALSH
WETTENGLE
Copyright © 1990, 2025 by Walsh Wettengle
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Published by:
Aegis Press
Seattle, WA
ISBN-13: 9798231752010 (e-book version)
First Edition
Cover Art created using ChatGPT
Dedicated to
Cleopatra and Bast,
well-missed and remembered familiars.
Love you, kitties.
Foreword
Everyone wants to write the novel that changes the world. Not me.
In 1990, I wanted to write a book from the perspective of a hack horror movie. We didn’t call them “’80s horror movies” back then—they were just horror movies. Elevated Horror hadn’t made its move yet, so these were all screams and fun without any psychological stakes.
I’m not sure there was ever an audience for this story—then or now. It has lines no one in 2025 is going to understand, like: “He opens a phone book and flips to the yellow pages.” For context, phone books were free hard copies of the contents of your Contacts app—if your Contacts app included every head-of-household and business in your entire city.
Ironically, I’m not even a fan of slasher films. Not much new has been done with them since the late ’80s. I think Child’s Play 2 had just come out when I wrote Snowman, and the influence of that franchise is all over this. The slasher wasn’t human? That was a million times better! The original films did it best, and that particular franchise (and the resulting TV series) continues to rock.
This work, perhaps, does not—but it authentically comes from that time. It was a blast to write it back then. Finding it again and editing it? Even better. The nostalgia hit hard—and so did the surprises. I had honestly forgotten some of the events, and completely forgotten the ending.
I didn’t change any actual content, aside from a couple of names and the addition of some emotional depth to a couple of scenes that adult-me genuinely needed as a reader. Thirty-five years later I realized the Blue Moon fell on New Years Eve as 1990 took its leave and I couldn't leave that alone. Out of respect for the original manuscript, I only tweaked the flow or dialogue in a handful of places—mostly where it sounded like a 17-year-old trying to land an inside joke that didn’t work. So much cringe! This was a time before we all went h-word on main (a phrase that will be long-forgotten in five years).
So, with that in mind, grab your toboggan and get ready for a bloody, horny, witchy slay ride.
-WW
Disclaimer: Witches
Chapter 1
Scene: December 1990. The snow is falling quickly on a darkening playground. Two small boys and a small girl are finishing work on an impressive snowman.
The girl smiles as she places a second stick arm into the snowy body.
"He's done!" gleefully boasts the girl.
"No, wait," the bigger of the two boys says. "He needs a hat!"
The smaller boy takes off his dark, rusty magenta-colored stocking cap and walks up to the snowman.
"Put my hat on Frosty, Andy," he says, shyly.
"Sure, Ricky," he says. Andy takes Ricky's hat and places it on the snowman's head.
The view changes as if someone is watching them from behind some bushes at the edge of the playground. The three children look over quickly, startled. A swing is swaying and the merry-go-round is whirling cheerily, lending a wobbling rumble to the evening air.
"It's just the wind," the girl says.
"Yeah," Ricky quickly adds.
"Well," Andy starts, "it's starting to get dark, guys." He turns to the girl. "We'd better get home, Mary."
"You're probably right," she says. "Bye Ricky, see you tomorrow." Mary and Andy leave.
"Bye guys," Ricky whispers. He turns and stares at the snowman, standing close to say his farewell. "Bye, Frosty."
The snowman smiles.
"Bye, Ricky." Its head falls onto Ricky and crumbles. Ricky screams.
He spins away and runs to the sidewalk along the wooded area that leads away from the park. Down the sidewalk he runs in the ever-darkening, overcast twilight, struggling to catch his breath in the cold.
"I'm still with you, Ricky," comes the snowman's voice.
"No!" Ricky says and begins to cry. He slows slightly to look behind him and suddenly runs into a snowman in the middle of the sidewalk. He screams again and looks up into the charcoal briquettes they used for eyes. The snowman is wearing his hat. It bends down and picks up a hatchet. Why was there a hatchet on the sidewalk? Ricky barely had time to wonder to himself amidst the impossible scene.
"Merry Christmas, Ricky. Merry fucking Christmas, ha ha ha ha ha!" The snowman swings the hatchet at Ricky, knocking him to the frozen cement. Ricky gets up and runs, not realizing that his left arm, from the elbow down, is lying back on the sidewalk. He runs across someone's driveway and slips on a patch of ice. He cries out. A woman comes out of the house and sees Ricky sprawling, blood everywhere.
"Oh my God-" she screams, abruptly cut-off as a hatchet crashes into her skull. The snowman begins to slide down the driveway toward Ricky. Ricky's tears refuse to freeze on his face.
"Ricky, Ricky." The snowman chuckles. "You've been such a naughty boy! Do you know what Frosty does to naughty boys?" Ricky shakes his head. The snowman's face turns grim. "Frosty... kills them!" It raises the hatchet and brings it down with a "thunk".
Chapter 2
Scene: Morning inside a kitchen, modestly decorated for Christmas. A girl of about 17 is making breakfast. She pauses to look through the window above the sink to see it is snowing briskly. The big, fluffy flakes that normally would bring a sense of peace and wonder.
"Mom!" she hollers. "Any sign of Ricky, yet?"
"No, sweetheart," her mom says shakily, entering the kitchen. "I've tried to call and see if he went to Andy's but the lines are down. If anything's happened to him—" She starts to cry.
The doorbell rings.
"I'll get it," the girl says. She goes to the door and opens it. On the stoop is a huge gift-wrapped box with a red bow on it. "Mom, I think you'd better come here!"
"What is it?" her mother asks as she comes to the door. "O-Open it." she says. The girl steps outside and pulls off the bow. She jumps back as a music-box melody to the tune from one of those old Rankin/Bass Christmas claymation specials sounds out and the box POPS open. All four sides fall to the stoop displaying the frozen, mutilated body of Ricky. They both scream. Her mom faints. They don't notice the stationary snowman in the front yard wearing Ricky's hat.
Chapter 3
Scene: The park where Ricky, Mary, and Andy built the snowman the afternoon before. Mary and Andy walk onto the playground.
"Ricky's not here, yet," Mary says, pouting. In fact, no other kids were there. Too quiet even for winter.
"Hey," Andy says, pointing to an empty space in the snow. "Our snowman is gone! Some stupid shit must've wrecked it."
"O0000, you said 'stupid shit'," Mary taunts him. "I'm telling Mom!"
"You are not!" Andy yells.
"Am, too," she says.
Andy packs up a snowball and nails Mary in the nose. She starts to cry and dramatically falls down. Andy pelts her with two more snowballs.
"You whore!" she yells at Andy and throws a snowball that hits him squarely in the eye.
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"You stupid jerk," he yells and pounces on her.
"Get off me you child molester!" Mary gets away from him and runs, not sure if this is a game or if they are in a fight, now. The heavy, falling snow doesn't take long to begin to obscure her view. Andy runs after her and finds her climbing the ladder to the playground slide.
"I'm gonna get you!" He climbs up the ladder after her.
"Suck me," she yells. "Mom's gonna beat your ass for this!" She turns to go down the slide and sees a hat on the top of the slide. She picks it up. "Ricky's," she whispers. Andy gets to the top.
"Got ya now!" he yells.
Mary gasps and slides down the slide. She sees a snowman at the bottom of the slide holding a hatchet. She screams as she reaches the bottom. A headless Mary crashes through the snowman as her head and the hatchet fall to the ground.
"Fuck," Andy whispers. In nauseated awe, he steps backwards where there is nowhere to step and falls from the slide. He lands on his back in a small drift. "I can't move! Help!" he cries loudly. He sees a snowman above him.
"Hello, Andy," it says. "And how are you feeling on this fine day?"
Andy screams.
"That good?" it asks. "Well, me, too. I always get this good feeling around Christmas time. Especially when it snows." It laughs. "Hmmm, Andy. You look a little numb there. Maybe you need to warm up." It stretches its stick arm unnaturally and takes a charcoal lump from where it was supposed to be an eye. The briquette glows red hot.
"We'd better get this over with soon, Andy." The snowman smiles. "Or I may just melt." It laughs. It rips open Andy's coat and sweater to place the hot coal on his chest. Andy screams hoarsely as his flesh sizzles. The snowman raises his hatchet. "Merry Christmas," it says and crashes the hatchet down.
Ricky's sister enters the park and hears Andy's final scream. The snow continues to fall heavily.
"Hello?" she asks. "Who's here?" She runs toward the scream and trips over Mary's head. She dusts the snow from her coat and gets back up without noticing what she tripped over. Her eyes are riveted to what appears to be a kid lying in the snow. She approaches Andy's body which is now face down in the snow and wearing Ricky's hat.
"Andy?" she asks. "Is that you?" She reaches down to nudge him and takes a deep breath before turning him over. Two coals exist where his eyes were. The girl screams. She turns to run and crashes into the snowman. It whips her across the face with its stick arms, drawing blood. She screams again and runs.
"Come back soon!" the snowman screams.
Ricky's sister reaches her house, runs in, and slams the door. Her father enters the entry hall where she stands, unable to bring herself to move.
"You'd better get moving if you want to be ready for the service, Amy," he says.
"But," she pleads. Her fathers leaves. She slowly moves into their living room and is able to bring herself to look out the bay window. The snowman is there, inches from the glass.
"Merry Christmas, Amy," it says. "Won't you come out and play?"
Amy screams and her mom comes running into the room.
"What is it?" her mom asks. "Amy?"
"A snowman!" Amy screams. Her mom looks out the window and sees a typical, shoddily-crafted snowman in the middle of the yard.
"Yes, that's what it is, Amy," her mom says, emptiness in her voice. "What's wrong? Are you sure you want to go to the service? This is impossibly hard on all of us and I would understand if it's too much. I don't know how I am going to make it through."
"Yes, I'm OK," Amy answers. After filling a small bag with some of Ricky's mementos, Amy and her parents get into their car and leave.
Chapter 4
Scene: It's dusk. Two teens are walking down Amy's street with that look about them that parents seem to think spells trouble in white kids, and it usually does. One 18 year-old with long, brown hair in Wranglers and a jean jacket with fake white fur along the collar. The other, a 17 year-old with short, black hair, wore Lee jeans and a worn-out leather motorcycle jacket. Neither could be very warm in this weather but sometimes one's look is more important. Another 16 year-old teen runs to catch up with them, Black with short-cropped hair, and wearing baggy jeans with a red, flannel jacket.
"Wait up!" he yells.
"Well, hurry the fuck up, Jerry!" the short-haired kid yells back.
"Hey, Cory, look." The long haired kid points.
Cory gasps. "Fuckin-A, Dave. It's a snowman!" Jerry catches up with them both.
"Let's trash it!" Jerry claps his hands.
"Hell yeah," Dave says, mockingly. "Let's kill the snowman." He runs up to it and gives a high kick to the head. Its head crumbles as Jerry and Cory then forcefully sandwich it and fall into the heap of snow. Cory gets up.
"Hey, where'd that snowman come from?" He points behind Dave. Dave turns around and faces another snowman.
"Woah. As God is my shitness," Dave says, "it was not here a second ago!"
"Well, let's bust it." Jerry moves forward.
"How'bout, I bust you?" the snowman asks.
"What the fuck?" Cory exclaims.
Jerry gulps. "That shit ain't on!"
"Merry Christmas, boys." The snowman picks up a hatchet. Jerry screams and runs off.
"C'mon, Dave," Cory yells. "Let's mosh!"
"Holy fuck," Dave whispers in fear.
"Not a holy one," the snowman says. "A cold one!" It swings the hatchet into Dave's left arm. Dave falls and screams.
"Dave!" Cory screams. "Get up!" Dave gets to his feet as the snowman begins to swing its hatchet again. Cory jumps at the snowman and tears out one of its stick arms. In return, the snowman swings his hatchet into Cory's gut. Cory collapses as Dave runs off, trying not to trip over himself in the snow.
Meanwhile, Jerry is walking rapidly down the street. "I knew I shouldn't have gone with those dudes!" Suddenly, he hears Dave call his name.
"Jerry!"
"Oh, shit," Jerry mutters. He runs toward where he last saw Dave and Cory. He finds himself in the yard where the snowman was and sees a hand sticking out of a snowdrift. "Oh hell, who is that? Cory?"
He pulls the hand out and realizes it is disembodied. He yelps as he drops it. "Oh shit! Mother of fuck!"
"Hello, Jerry. Nice night, isn't it?" came a voice. Jerry whirls around to face... nothing? "Up here, Jerry," came the voice again.
Jerry looks up. In a tree he sees a blood-stained snowman holding something round and furry, like a maniacal cherry Slush Puppy. Jerry turns to run.
"Oh, Jerry," the snowman cries. "Wait! Cory wanted to say something to you." Jerry turns back to the tree as the snowman hurls its round object at him. With utter horror, Jerry sees that it's Cory's head.
"JERRY!!!!" the head screams. It hits Jerry in the chest and falls to the ground. Jerry runs again. He's never run this fast before.
"Oh God, oh fuck oh damn, oh Hell, oh, oh!!" Jerry cries as he runs.
"Jerry..." a voice cries. Jerry looks behind him and with a sick fascination he sees Cory's head rolling along behind him. "Help me, Jerry. The snowman killed me. Now, he's going to kill you! Ha Ha Ha! Merry Christmas, Jerry! Merry-"
"Shut up!" Jerry cries. "Just shut the fuck up!" He stops, spins around, and delivers the kick-of-his-life to Cory's head. The head flies through the air and the snowman catches it.
"That wasn't nice to kick your friend so close to Christmas, Jerry," it taunts. "Maybe I'll come down your chimney instead of Santa."
"I'll be sure to light the fire, fucker!" Jerry cries.
"Oh no." The snowman looks surprised. "That won't do at all. I could melt." He produces his hatchet.
"No, no, motherfucker..." Jerry, cries hysterically. "You just get that hatchet the fuck away from me!"
"Jerry, Jerry," the snowman shakes his head. "Where's your Christmas Spirit?" He slides toward Jerry.
"Get the hell back," Jerry blubbers.
The snowman starts to sing. "Deck the halls with Jerry's innards. Fa la la la la la la la la. He makes quite a good Christmas dinner. Fa la la la la la la la la."
"No!" Jerry cries. The snowman strikes Jerry in the shoulder with the hatchet. Jerry screams, blood gurgling in his mouth.
The snowman keeps singing.
"But now he's writhing on the ground in pain. Fa la la la la la la la la." The snowman keeps hacking away and singing. "Because the snowman likes to kill and maim. Fa la la la la la la la la!" He laughs maniacally.
