Beneath the White

The snow fell in thick, swirling curtains, blanketing the narrow mountain road as Sophia gripped the steering wheel with white-knuckled hands. Her breath clouded the inside of her windshield as the wind howled through the pines, blurring the world in a swirling gray and white haze. Her car's heater was fighting a losing battle against the bitter cold; she had been driving for hours, eager to make it home for the holidays.

Just as she was about to turn onto the main road, the car sputtered loudly—once, twice—and then fell silent.

"No, no, no!" she cursed, desperately turning the key into the ignition. The engine cranked but refused to catch. Sophia slumped forward, heart pounding as the chill began seeping through her coat. Anxiety hit her with the force of a semi-truck; her cell phone had died miles back, and she hadn't seen another car for hours. Shifting her gaze outside her window, her eyes searched as far up the road as they could for any sign of assistance or warmth. She would freeze to death in the driver's seat. With no other choice, she wrapped herself tightly in her scarf, grabbed a spare flashlight from the glovebox, and stepped into the storm.

The wind bit at her face, howling like a wild animal. Snowflakes stung her eyes and cheeks like hundreds of angry bees, whizzing past her at the speed of light. Trudging through knee-high snow, Sophia followed the faint outline of the road, praying for a passing car or a sign of life. Despite the cold, the trees looked like something out of a fairytale, with their trunks looming over the snow like gentle giants cloaked in sparkly white lace. After what felt like an eternity, a warm, flickering glow seemed to erupt between the skeletal frame of the trees- light. Trekking through the thick snow as quickly as she could, Sophia marched closer and closer to the source, hope spreading across her body and propelling her forward.

It was a small and crooked cabin, its roof weighed down with snow. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and golden light spilled behind thick curtains. Surrounded by trees and snow, the cabin looked straight out of a Christmas card. Sophia stumbled up the porch steps, her boots crunching over a thin layer of ice. Her hands were so cold they were numb, but nevertheless, she knocked.

The door creaked open almost immediately. A man and a woman stood on the other side, their faces cast in shadow by the dim light of the fireplace. "Oh, my goodness!" the woman exclaimed, her voice syrupy and warm. Without hesitation, she ushered Sophia inside. "You poor thing—come in, come in!" Entering the cabin, the heat hit her deliciously, the room smelling faintly of pine and something earthy she couldn't place.

“You’re frozen solid,” the man said, his gruff voice softening. “Here, give me your shoes so I can put them by the fire to dry.” The man was tall, with broad shoulders, a white beard, and kind eyes. “I…my car broke down,” Sophia stammered, handing the man her cold, wet boots, “I’ve been walking for a while. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, dear,” the woman said. She introduced herself as Gertrude and the man as her husband, Kris. “You should stay here until the storm passes. I sure wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you were out there by yourself in the cold.” Sophia nodded in agreement. Gertrude led her down a small hallway past the fireplace, the walls filled with family pictures and memorabilia, including a kitschy white sign with "Kringle" painted in red letters. The wood-paneled walls and flickering light from the fire starkly contrasted the bitter cold, inviting her into its warm embrace. At the end of the hallway, she opened a door revealing a small bedroom. A twin-sized bed sat expectantly on one side, with a small oak nightstand sitting next to it and a chest of drawers on the opposite side of the room. A strange decoration hung above the dresser, a symbol made of tree branches and twine.

“The bathroom is just across the hall,” Gertrude explained, handing her a set of dry clothes. “There’s a tub in there, nothing warms the bones like a proper soak. I’ll draw a bath for you before we sit down for dinner,” she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Sophia gratefully accepted. As the bathwater steamed around her, she let her guard down for the first time in hours. Gertrude was right; a bath was exactly what she needed. The water was the perfect temperature, smelling faintly of lavender and sage. A film of bubbles formed a layer on the surface. Something nagged at the back of her mind- the cabin was too warm, too quiet. Even the storm outside seemed muted, like the world beyond the cabin walls had ceased to exist. She felt too safe even though Gertrude and Kris welcomed her with open arms and without hesitation- almost too quickly.

That evening, they sat down for dinner. As Sophia entered the small dining room, the smell of meat and spices intoxicated her. A hearty stew, fresh bread, and spiced cider beckoned her to the table, her stomach growling ravenously. Before eating, the couple clasped hands and bowed their heads, Gertrude raising her brow suggestively at Sophia, signaling to do the same. They began reciting a prayer in low, rhythmic tones, the words unfamiliar and guttural. It became clear that the words were not in English but in Latin.

Sophia hesitated, feeling like an outsider. When they finished, she asked cautiously, “What was that? I don’t think I’ve heard a prayer like it before.” Gertrude’s cheerful demeanor darkened. “It’s just…tradition,” she said curtly. Kris gave his wife a warning look, and the subject was dropped.

"I don't mean to ask, but you both have been extremely generous. Do you happen to have cell service here? Or a phone charger? My phone died hours ago, and my family is expecting me," Sophia asked politely. Kris and Gertrude glance at each other before he replies, "Unfortunately not; with how many mountains are in this area, you'd only be able to get service in town. It's about a fifteen-minute drive from here, but the storm is supposed to get worse. You'd have better luck getting there tomorrow once the storm passes." 

The following day, the sun barely pierced the overcast sky as Sophia sat at the rustic kitchen table, stirring the remnants of her tea. The storm had passed, leaving a brittle stillness in its wake. Outside, snow covered the woods surrounding the cabin, turning the world into an unbroken sea of white. Spooning more hot oatmeal into her mouth, Sophia couldn't help but think how lucky she was for stumbling upon the cabin.

“You’re feeling better this morning?” Gertrude inquired, setting a dish in the sink. “Yes, thank you so much,” Sophia said, her voice warm with gratitude. “I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t found this place.”

Kris smiled, his sharp features catching the light of the fire. “The woods have a way of leading people where they need to go.” Sophia smiled politely, though his words unsettled her. Before she could respond, Gertrude interrupted, “You’ll join us today, won’t you?” She leaned against the counter, drying a dish with slow, deliberate movements.

“Join you?” Sophia asked, glancing between the woman and her husband, who was sharpening an axe by the fireplace. “It’s a family tradition,” Kris replied, his voice low and gravelly. “Every year, we head out into the woods and find the perfect Christmas tree. Nothing beats a fresh one, right?”

Sophia hesitated. Now that the roads were clear, she had planned to ask for a ride to town, especially because she desperately needed her car towed. However, it seemed rude to decline their offer after they'd been so kind. "Sure," she said, offering a polite smile, "I could use the fresh air." Gertrude clapped her hands together, her cheerfulness almost too enthusiastic. “Wonderful! We’ll bundle you up nice and warm.”

The woods were completely silent, the kind of silence that pressed in on your ears and made every crunch of snow beneath your boots feel deafening. Sophia trudged after the couple, her breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. Kris led the way, clad in his bright red coat and hat, carrying the axe over his shoulder, with Gertrude following behind, cradling a wicker basket. After what felt like an eternity wandering through the labyrinth of trees and underbrush, they entered a clearing. It was a pristine, snow-covered expanse nestled deep within the woods, a perfect pocket of stillness surrounded by mountains. The Christmas trees stood in orderly, natural rows, their branches heavy with snow that glistened in the sunlight like diamonds. As they stood together admiring the scene, an unsettling chill swept through the air.

Sophia felt a strange energy envelop the space, something almost otherworldly. As she turned to share her thoughts with Gertrude and Kris, she caught their whispered conversation laced with urgency. A weight formed in her gut, a growing sense of dread as she strained to hear.

"…their spirits must be honored…" one said, while the other responded, "We cannot let her leave until we complete the ritual. They'll punish us."

Confused and frightened, Sophia stepped back, the realization dawning upon her like the frozen air slicing her skin. Gertrude’s once joyful disposition twisted into something else, an expression Sophia had never seen before—her eyes became soulless and hungry behind her petite, round glasses, and her mouth contorted into a snarl. It was when she glanced down at the way Kris was gripping the axe that she realized she was no longer a guest—she was being hunted.

“No, no! I need to go!” she cried out. Fear coursed through her veins as she turned to run, terror propelling her deeper into the woods, the path twisting and turning as ominous whispers echoed around her. With adrenaline surging, she raced through the trees, dodging branches and snow-laden shadows. Behind her, Gertrude and Kris called her name, chasing after her relentlessly. It was as if they'd done this before. Sophia pushed on, the cold air burning her lungs and her throat.

The woods suddenly came alive with an unsettling energy, the trees towering high, forming a natural, cathedral-like canopy. A low, whispering wind rustled the leaves, but it wasn't the wind that gave the never-ending woods its pulse. Sophia's eyes darted back and forth as she ran; while the couple's voices echoed in the distance, she still felt she was being watched. A presence lingered- an icy chill that sank deep into her bones, an oppressive weight that clung to the air like fog. Something moved between the trees like fleeting shadows, its form barely visible except for the glint of pale eyes that reflected the faintest light. Sophia wanted to scream, but she flew through the snow as fast as her aching legs could take her.

She finally slowed down once she entered a small pocket of the woods. Jagged gravestones and wooden markers protrude from the snow, their surfaces etched with cryptic runes, faded symbols, and signs of decay. Some stones were split as if struck by lightning, while others were entwined with gnarled roots that seemed to claw their way to the surface. A large, ominous stone altar stood in the center of the burial ground, its surface smeared with what looked like old, frozen blood. Candles, extinguished, sat in iron holders, their wax frozen in mid-drip. The woods became restless; soft, sibilant voices carried in the breeze- faint but distinct. They rose in an eerie harmony, chanting in unison, low and hollow like the echo of something long dead.

Snap.

The twig sound was like a whip cracking against stone, causing Sophia's rapidly beating heart to jump up her heaving chest. Before she knew it, she was running again, branches lashed at her face and arms as she tore through the undergrowth, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. Her boots slipped on the uneven ground, wet slush sucking at her heels as she stumbled forward. Panic clawed at her chest. Every snap of a branch and rustle in the brush felt like something- or someone- following her. It seemed that she could see Mr. Kringle's red coat every time she closed her eyes to blink. The woods closed tighter around her, the silence broken only by her breath and her heartbeat thundering. Tears blurred her vision.

"Please…just let me find a way out," Sophia mumbled to herself desperately. Although her legs felt heavy, she forced them to move, one foot in front of the other. And then- a break in the trees. Her pulse quickened, surging towards it. The ground leveled out, the trees thinning, and suddenly, she burst out of the forest onto an open road. The asphalt stretched ahead of her, slick with rain and illuminated by the moonlight. Just a couple hundred yards away, something familiar caught her eye, a small car covered in snow and ice parked off the side of the road.

This was the final stretch. With all the strength she could muster, Sophia limped closer and closer to the car. Relief flooded her chest, and the oppressive weight of the woods lifted, replaced by a fragile hope. As she got closer, she began noticing something was different. The car sat at an awkward angle, its nose buried deep in a drift of snow; the windshield was a spiderweb of cracks, dusted with frost that crept inward like icy veins. Snow had piled up against the doors, half-burying the vehicle, but the driver's door hung slightly ajar. Snowflakes swirled into the dark interior, coating the torn fabric of the seats and the dashboard with a thin layer of white. The engine was silent, but the faint smell of gasoline lingered in the air, mingling with the sharp, metallic tang of cold. Squinting through the small crack in the open door, Sophia's heart dropped.

Slumped over the steering wheel was a body. A hollow ache bloomed in Sophia’s chest as she moved closer. The figure appeared crumpled, face pressed against the base of the wheel, a layer of frost crusting over the back of its coat. Snow and dried blood clung to their hair, their hands bruised and slightly frostbitten. Recognition struck like a clap of thunder. Memories rushed back in fragments, hitting like shards of broken glass. The blinding snow. The black ice on the slick road. The crash. The sudden, suffocating stillness. For a moment, Sophia stared at her own lifeless eyes; the world felt impossibly vast and empty.

“I never made it out,” she choked. The wind howled through the trees, carrying her silent lament with it, harmonizing with the voices of those who met their tragic end in the desolate sea of trees and snow. As the snow fell heavier, the outline of her body began to blur, slowly disappearing beneath the white.