Whispers in the snow

Title: Whispers in the Snow

I

Emily pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the window, her breath leaving no trace on the surface. Outside, the village lay blanketed in snow, every rooftop twinkling with warm lights. Christmas Eve had always felt quieter since Daniel’s death, but this year the silence pressed harder against her ribs.

She ran her fingers along the edges of a faded photograph. Daniel’s grin, all teeth and mischief, stared back at her. He was only seventeen. A car accident on the icy roads—at least that’s what everyone had told her. But no matter how many years passed, Emily could never quite remember the details. Or, her mind was forcing her not to.

“I wish you were still here,” she whispered.

The old box of decorations sat half-empty at her feet, relics of past holidays she’d tried to avoid. Digging through it felt more like excavation than preparation. Near the bottom, something cold brushed her fingers—a small pocket watch, cracked along the face.

Daniel’s.

It was frozen at 11:58, the time of his death. Emily traced the hands of the watch with her thumb, hesitating for only a moment before winding it.

A single tick echoed in the room.

Her vision blurred, and the world dipped beneath her feet. She stumbled forward, clutching the mantel. When she looked at the clock on the wall, the time read midnight.

II

Emily woke to the sound of something sizzling in the kitchen. The sun cut across the wooden floor, spilling warmth she hadn’t felt in years.

She pushed herself up, rubbing her eyes. With surprise, she noticed she was still holding Daniel’s watch in her hand tightly, as if someone else carefully passed it to her. Her attention shortly moved to her desk side. Her decorations in her room was changed. The old box of decorations on the floor was gone, replaced by a series of drawers. Her desk looked less messy-her daily make-ups and the mirror were gone. There was scent that didn’t belong to her.

Footsteps moved behind her.

“Morning.”

It’s a male voice. Her heart almost stopped beating. She turned slowly.

Daniel stood in the kitchen, spatula in hand, flipping eggs as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

The plate slipped from her fingers, shattering across the floor. Daniel glanced over his shoulder, frowning.

“You alright?” he asked, stepping forward carefully. “You’re acting weird.”

Emily couldn’t breathe. Her legs shook beneath her, but she closed the distance between them, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Daniel,” she choked out. “You’re… you’re here.”

Daniel stiffened for a second before hugging her back. “Where else would I be?”

Tears streamed down Emily’s face as she buried herself in the scent of him—a mixture of fresh soap and a scent just belong to him only. No one else did.

She could feel him gently tapping her back.

But something was different.

She pulled back to look at him. His eyes, warm but unfamiliar, lingered a little too long on her face.

“I thought—” She shook her head, laughing through her tears. “I thought I lost you.”

Daniel chuckled softly. “You’re not making any sense. Sit down, I made breakfast.”

She squeezed her cheek, and quickly checked her phone screen. It said “Friday 25 December”.

III

The snow outside sparkled under the afternoon sun, but Emily barely noticed it. She trailed Daniel through the village, where decorations hung on every door. She had expected people to stare, to question why he was here. But no one said a word.

As they passed a bakery, the old woman squinted at them through the window. Her hand paused mid-air as she hung a wreath, but she quickly looked away.

Emily squeezed Daniel’s arm. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“She was staring at us. Like she’d seen a ghost.”

Daniel simply shrugged. “Maybe she’s not used to seeing you out and about.”

But Emily wasn’t convinced. Was it? She was pretty sure she went there a lot. She even went there yesterday-and she said “merry Christmas” to her before she left. Maybe she was just having a multi-layer dream that she could not easily wake up?

If so, she hoped she would never wake up again.

Later that evening, she sat on the sofa as Daniel strung lights around the tree. His humming filled the room—soft, rhythmic—but the tune was unfamiliar.

“What’s that song?” she asked, tilting her head.

Daniel didn’t stop. “My favorite Christmas song.”

Emily frowned. “No way, it’s not. You always hated Christmas songs. You said your ear would get broken if you listen to them all the time like that.”

Daniel paused, blinking. “Right,” he said lightly. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

But the humming resumed, louder this time.

IV

By the time night fell, Emily couldn’t shake the weight in her chest. Something felt wrong.

She climbed the stairs quietly, pausing by Daniel’s room. The door was cracked open.

Inside, Daniel sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. He didn’t notice her. His lips moved soundlessly, whispering something she couldn’t hear.

Emily leaned closer.

“Daniel?”

His head snapped toward her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. His eyes reflected the faint light from the hallway, dark and unreadable.

“Can’t sleep,” he muttered, brushing past her as he slipped out.

Emily stood frozen in the doorway.

She glanced back at his room—at the photo resting on his nightstand. Her breath caught.

The photograph was the same one from the mantel. But her face… had been scratched out.

V

Emily’s hands trembled as she flipped through the old diary she’d found in the attic. The entries were hers, but she didn’t remember writing them.

The final entry read:

“I miss him. Maybe if I wind the clock tonight, things will be different.”

The next page was blank.

Footsteps sounded behind her. She turned sharply to see Daniel standing at the bottom of the attic stairs, the soft glow of the tree lights casting shadows across his face.

“Looking for something?” he asked.

“Why is my face scratched out of the photos?” Emily demanded, holding the diary close. “What’s happening to me?”

Daniel stepped forward slowly, his expression unreadable. “I didn’t want to tell you,” he said softly. “I thought it would be easier if you didn’t remember.”

“Remember what?”

Daniel’s voice cracked as he said, “You didn’t come back, Emily. Not completely.”

The diary slipped from her hands.

“You died five years ago,” Daniel whispered. “The same night as me.”

Emily stumbled back, the room spinning. Her reflection in the window—always faint, always delayed—finally faded to nothing.

In the silence, Daniel placed the pocket watch on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “But you shouldn’t be here.”

Emily couldn’t remember when he got the watch. Even this morning, the watch was with her.

She tried to open the window to wake herself up. It’s been a longest dream ever in her life.

Then she noticed her hand slowly passed through the window frame.

The snow fell quietly as Daniel stood in the graveyard, gazing at the headstone.

“Emily – Beloved Sister. Died Christmas Eve, Five Years Ago.”

A single set of footprints trailed behind him in the snow.