The Flickering Joy of Frostwood

The snow fell in slow, deliberate spirals, as if the universe itself were trying to gift-wrap the town of Frostwood. Holly wreaths clung to the windows of every shop on Main Street. Strands of golden lights adorned rooftops, and the sweet smell of roasted chestnuts drifted lazily through the crisp air. Children laughed as they skated on the frozen pond near the town square, their scarves trailing behind them like banners in a winter parade.

For everyone else, it truly was the most wonderful time of the year.

Except for Lilah Monroe.

She sat on the edge of the wooden bench just outside the general store, clutching a steaming cup of mulled cider. Her scarf was wrapped so tightly around her neck it might as well have been a noose. She tried to focus on the warmth spreading through her gloves and the soothing hum of carolers rehearsing nearby, but the unease clung to her like a shadow.

Something wasn’t right.

The realization hadn’t struck all at once. It had been a slow, creeping sensation, much like the frost that spread over her bedroom window every night. At first, she thought she was just imagining things. A misplaced ornament on the Christmas tree, a wreath hung slightly off-center. Small things. Dismissible things. But the feeling had grown stronger over the past week, and now it pulsed in her chest like an alarm she couldn’t turn off.

“Lilah!”

She flinched, spilling cider onto the bench as her friend Natalie approached. Natalie was dressed in a red wool coat and matching earmuffs, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold. Her smile was bright enough to rival the twinkling lights overhead, but even that couldn’t pierce through Lilah’s growing dread.

“Hey,” Lilah said, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “What’s up?”

“Just checking on you,” Natalie replied, plopping down beside her. “You seemed a little… off at the tree lighting last night. Everything okay?”

Lilah hesitated, her fingers tightening around the cup. She wanted to tell Natalie. She wanted to spill every irrational thought that had been swirling in her head. But how could she? How could she explain that she felt like the town she’d lived in her entire life—her sanctuary—suddenly felt foreign?

“I’m fine,” she said finally, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. “Just tired, I guess.”

Natalie studied her for a moment, her brow furrowed. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped package. “Here,” she said, thrusting it into Lilah’s hands. “Early Christmas present. Thought it might cheer you up.”

Lilah unwrapped it slowly, revealing a delicate silver charm bracelet. Each charm was a tiny replica of something quintessentially Frostwood—a snowflake, the clock tower, the skating pond. It was beautiful, but as Lilah ran her fingers over the tiny snowflake, a shiver crawled down her spine.

“Thanks, Nat,” she murmured. “It’s perfect.”

But it wasn’t.

The sensation grew stronger over the next few days. It wasn’t just the decorations that seemed off now. It was the people. Mrs. Calloway, who had run the bakery for thirty years, suddenly didn’t recognize Lilah when she stopped in for her usual cinnamon roll. The Peterson twins, always inseparable, were now never seen together. Even Natalie seemed different—too cheerful, almost forced.

Lilah started keeping a journal, jotting down every strange occurrence in shaky handwriting.

Tuesday

• Christmas carolers were singing “Silent Night” in a minor key. Weird.

• Someone replaced the nativity scene with… I don’t know what. It looked like abstract art, but everyone acted like it was normal.

Wednesday

• The skating pond cracked, even though the ice was thick. Kids said they heard whispering.

Thursday

• Natalie mentioned a “Snow Festival.” What is that? We’ve never had a Snow Festival before.

By the time Christmas Eve arrived, Lilah was barely holding herself together. The town was hosting the annual Frostwood Gala, a tradition that brought every resident together for a night of music, dancing, and holiday cheer. Lilah considered skipping it altogether, but her parents insisted she attend.

“You’ll feel better once you’re around everyone,” her mother said, handing her a pair of glittering silver heels. “It’s Christmas, sweetheart. Let the season work its magic.”

Magic.

Lilah had always believed in the magic of Christmas. The kind that made snowflakes sparkle like diamonds and turned ordinary moments into cherished memories. But now, the word felt hollow. Whatever was happening in Frostwood wasn’t magic—it was something else entirely.

The gala was held in the town hall, its grand ballroom transformed into a winter wonderland. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the crowd, and a towering Christmas tree stood at the center of the room, its branches laden with ornaments that seemed to shimmer unnaturally.

Lilah moved through the crowd like a ghost, her unease sharpening with every step. She tried to make conversation, but the smiles she received felt brittle, the laughter hollow. Even her parents seemed distant, their eyes glassy as they chatted with neighbors.

And then she saw him.

A man standing near the tree, dressed in a black suit that seemed out of place among the festive attire. His face was pale, his features sharp, and his eyes… his eyes were wrong. They were too dark, like twin voids swallowing the light around them.

He was watching her.

Lilah’s breath hitched, and she quickly turned away, her heart pounding. When she glanced back a moment later, he was gone.

The rest of the night passed in a blur. Lilah left the gala early, her head spinning with questions she couldn’t answer. By the time she reached her house, the unease had grown into full-blown panic. She locked the doors, drew the curtains, and climbed into bed without even changing out of her dress.

She didn’t sleep.

At some point during the night, she heard a faint tapping at her window. She told herself it was just the wind, but when she finally worked up the courage to look, the pale man was standing in the snow, staring up at her with those empty eyes.

Lilah stared back, frozen in place as her breath caught in her throat. The man’s gaze wasn’t just unsettling—it was wrong. The way his eyes locked onto hers felt like they were peeling back her thoughts, unearthing secrets even she didn’t know she carried.

The room felt colder now, the warmth of the house leeching away as if it were being siphoned out by his presence. Her fingers trembled as she clutched the edge of the windowsill, her instincts screaming at her to do something.

But what?

For a moment, the two of them remained locked in a silent standoff. The snow fell around him, though it seemed to dissolve the moment it touched his shoulders.

Then, without warning, the man’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. Not a kind smile. Not a reassuring one. It was the smile of someone who knew.

And then he turned and walked away.

Lilah stumbled back from the window, her knees hitting the edge of her bed. She sank onto the mattress, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hold onto her phone as she dialed.

The call rang once. Twice.

“Come on,” she whispered.

But instead of Natalie’s familiar voice, a high-pitched screech came through the speaker, followed by static. Lilah yelped, dropping the phone. It hit the floor with a sharp clatter, the screen blinking out.

“No,” she muttered, grabbing it again. She tried her parents next. Then the police station.

Nothing.

Every number led to the same ear-splitting noise.