The Thing Beneath the Snow

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It was supposed to be a cozy Christmas.
A remote cabin. A roaring fire.
Just the Carver family and the mountains.

Snow fell nonstop.
The road disappeared by morning.
No signal. No neighbors. No escape.

“We’re snowed in,” Dad said.
“But we’ll make the best of it.”

They baked cookies.
Played board games.
Watched old Christmas movies.

Then the scratching began.

At first, they thought it was tree branches.
But there were no trees near the windows.

Then came the humming.
Low. Hollow.
Like someone was singing from under the house.

At midnight, their youngest — Ellie — screamed.
Something had brushed her feet under the floorboards.

They laughed it off.
But the next morning, Ellie was gone.

Just one tiny handprint on the frosted window.
On the inside.

They searched the whole cabin.
Attic. Pantry. Crawlspace.
Nothing.

Then Jonah, their oldest, started talking to someone.
“They’re in the snow,” he whispered.
“They want more.”

That night, Mom saw footprints.
Outside her bedroom window.
But they didn’t lead to the cabin.

They led out.
From the wall.
Like something had emerged.

One by one, they vanished.
Until only Dad was left.

He sat by the fire, rocking in silence.
A gift-wrapped box rested on the hearth.
No name.

He opened it.

Inside — a single snow globe.
A perfect replica of the cabin.
And inside that…

Tiny figures.

Trapped.

Frozen.

Screaming.