On A Cold and Frosty Morning

MissJSquared

Jul 31

I can never go back.

They're all after me.

They're all going to know what I did.

They'll never understand why.

There's no way out for me. There's no way back from what I've become. There's no way to undo what I've done.

It was supposed to be an easy job. It was an easy job… until the frost came.

I had been working at the nursery for about two years. It was a decent place to work. The hours fit around my schedule, the wages were okay, and all I had to do was answer calls, send a few emails and make sure the files for the children were up to date. I got to sit behind my desk all day, watching the nursery assistants wrangle hyperactive kids while I texted my girlfriend under the table and drank as many free coffees as I wanted.

I just got on with my life, counting down the hours until 4PM when the last of the afternoon's children left and we could all head home. I never went looking for trouble, but trouble had been watching me for a while.

It was just a normal lunchtime. I'd just got back from my break as the morning class were packing up their toys and grabbing their coats to go home. As I walked through the reception towards my desk, I could hear the printer whirring away in the corner of my desk. I thought it was strange, but didn't give it much thought. The nursery assistants normally wait until I'm back and ask me to print for them, but if they'd taken the initiative and done it themselves, I couldn't complain.

I sat down at my desk and reached for the printer, but as I leaned across my desk, I noticed that my computer was turned off, just as I'd left it before my lunch break. I shrugged, assuming that one of the other staff must have printed with a laptop, and I grabbed the singular page to take a look.

At first, I thought it was blank, rolling my eyes at the thought of having to call IT about the printer playing up AGAIN, but I could see a little splodge of ink in the top left corner, and as I took a closer look, I realised that it was tiny, typed words.

I could barely make it out at first, but after scanning it into the computer and zooming in a bit, I was able to read it.

"Here we go round the mulberry bush."

It was weird that it was just one line, I suppose, but it's not exactly unheard of for a nursery rhyme to be printed off at a nursery, so I just shrugged, made a mental note to speak to the staff about making sure font sizes are correct before printing, and tried to get on with my day.

The trouble was… I had a bad feeling. I didn't even know why. It was just a silly little song. It wasn't even the whole song, just one line, but… nobody had printed it. I checked with everyone. I even considered questioning the children, despite the fact that they are all too small to reach the computer, and none of the staff had a clue what I was talking about.

Somebody had printed it, but I had no idea who, or why. I tried to forget, but within an hour, the printer stuttered to life again. I watched it spit out another piece of paper, certain that I hadn't asked it to print a thing, and when it was done, I apprehensively picked up the paper.

The text was a little bigger this time, and I squinted down at it to make it a little clearer, feeling a strange shudder as I read the words in a whisper.

"Here we go round the mulberry bush."

Again. Those same words, barely readable, and printed by nobody that I was aware of.

The paper sat on my desk for an hour or so. It was nearing the end of the day, and the mystery of the phantom printer had slipped my mind.

I was busy on a call to a Father who was ever so worried about the eco friendly credentials of our playdough when I saw her.

She was just outside, tapping her fingers one by one against the glass. I gasped, my eyes trailing up to her face.

Wide, empty eyes, a deep gash that stretched all the way around her mouth, displaying two rows of teeth. Limp, lifeless hair fell about her face, littered with dry, crumbling leaves and she wore a greying, fraying dress that hung low over her feet, training behind her.

It almost looked like she was smiling, but there was a darkness to it, something deeply wrong that I couldn't quite shake off. Her skin was sallow, an ashy grey and as she continued tapping her little rhythm against the closed door, I recognised it.

Here we go round the mulberry bush.

That song. A silly old nursery rhyme that the printer had been softly singing was now echoing around the reception area.

The door was locked, as always, but I didn't feel safe. It was the way that she stared, and the way that she smiled. That song.

I glanced down at the paper and then back at her. She nodded, her endless smile beaming back at me as if she had read my mind. I made an excuse and ended the call, in two minds as to whether I call the police or go and speak to her, when she pointed towards the printer and nodded again.

Begrudgingly, I took my eyes from her and looked over at the printer, just in time to see it spurt another sheet of paper out to me. With shaking hands, I grabbed the paper and looked down to see what it said.

"On a cold and frosty morning."

I didn't want to look at her, but my eyes slowly snaked up to her face beyond the glass, and she stared back, her wide mouth snapping open and closed as she waved. Almost like laughter. So dark. So out of place.

My eyes were trapped in her gaze. Shivering, I stared back at her, watching her as she watched me, and the sky around her grew dark. It was almost as if she was swallowing the light.

I was torn from her view as someone called my name, and as I looked around, I saw the reception filling up with children, eager to go home. I glanced back over at the door, but she was gone, and the sky was bright again.

I buzzed in the waiting parents and tried to forget about what I'd seen, but as I packed up for the day, I saw the papers littering my desk, and couldn't escape the thought that I hadn't seen the last of… whatever she was.

For a few days, I was wrong, and I was able to return back to a relaxed and carefree time when I didn't have her face on my mind all the time. The printer was still, the days went by as normal, and nothing was wrong.

I had begun to forget. It just became lost in the back of my mind. Then, the frost came.

It was unheard of, really. I know that the weather can be a bit miserable in England, but we've never had frost in summer.

It came yesterday.

Everything changed yesterday.

It covered the ground, sweeping across everything with icy, prickly fingers, and as I walked to work, I felt uneasy. I tried to shake it off but I couldn't escape the thought that something was wrong.

I had put the thought of her away and tried to move on. Perhaps it was a prank? A daydream?

It couldn't have been real.

Oh God. Why did it have to be real?

Yesterday, as I buzzed the children out for morning playtime, the printer began to shudder and shake, and before long, a piece of paper fell in the tray.

"This is the way we put on our clothes."

I dropped the paper, jumping from my seat and running towards the door, panicked breaths rushing from my lungs as I pushed past the nursery assistants and gathered children towards the playground.

I saw her, up ahead, her mouth wide in a wicked smile as branches, shoots and berries began springing from the air all around her.

I could barely believe my eyes, backing away, I ran back towards the children, shoving them inside and motioning for the nursery assistants to take them to the main hall, slamming the door behind me.

Amidst the confusion, I could hear her tapping on the window. My heart sank as I turned towards the closed door and saw her waiting outside, her fingers playing that same familiar rhythm.

She beckoned me closer with her other hand, and though it felt wrong, and every inch of me resisted, something in me made me walk closer.

I can't explain why. I wish I could. I opened the door and followed her as she began walking back to the playground. My head was a haze. The frost crunched underneath my shoes, and the world seemed slow and silent.

It was just the two of us.

We walked back towards the growing bush, it's leaves and branches blowing in the wind as she knelt beside it with a smile. I looked down at her expectantly, lost in confusion about what it had all meant. Almost as if she read my mind, and knew I longed for answers, she finally spoke.

"I am the lost children." Her voice was not her own. So many seemed to speak all at once, and as she spoke, every word seemed to cause her great pain. Not a her, but them, or it. A confusing cacophony that had dragged me into its curse. "Will you let me play dress up?" I stared blankly at her, unsure of what she meant. She met my gaze, her eyes frustrated and fiery. "The bush will have you if you don't…"

In an instant, I was lost in the leaves. The branches wrapped around my wrists, and no matter how hard I struggled, I was trapped, choking as the branches clamped down over my throat.

"I just want a little costume to play in… This one is too big." She lamented, staring up at me with huge, horrifying eyes. I couldn't breathe, without even enough energy to summon my life and watch it flash before my eyes. I had no idea what she wanted from me, until I saw Brody.

It wasn't his fault. I keep trying to tell myself that he should have stayed inside with the others. Maybe he'd be alive if he stayed inside with the others.

Brody walked out onto the playground. The nursery assistants were so busy herding the children into the main hall that they didn't notice him slip out after me as I walked out onto the playground.

I don't know why, but seeing him walk towards us suddenly made everything make sense. I motioned towards him with my crushed fingers, and her head snapped around to the boy.

My skin was burning, tears of pain and terror filled my eyes as I felt my body sinking back into the tree and its grip on everything I was became tighter and tighter by the second.

Brody tottered over towards her, kneeling down with her, with a big, bright smile, and she looked up expectantly at me, seeming to seek my approval.

She wanted to change her clothes.

She wanted a new costume.

In what could have been my last breath, I whispered "Yes."

I'd get free and rescue him. That was always the plan. I don't know if that's a lie I tell myself, or if it was, in a desperate and delusional way, true.

The branches threw me from their grasp and I collapsed onto the soft playground, begging for breath to find my lungs.

I found my way back to life and looked up at the scene before me. I was too late to stop her. The air filled with Brody's screams and the smell of blood, as his bones clattered to the floor.

I turned away, unable to bear it. The old skin fell at my feet, and I did the worst thing I've ever done in my life.

I ran. God help me, I ran, with just one glance back to little Brody, watching him wave, his lips fraying as the lost children's smiles began to burst through.

I ran, and I can never go back, but that costume won't last long. The frost will find us all in the end, and the lost children will need another costume.

Just pray that they don't like the look of you.