The Snow Child Part II. By Rayburn Sonier-McDonald
The Snow Child 

Part II.

By Rayburn Sonier-McDonald ghosts stories
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mmaray
mmaray I am a Canadian writer. I like art..
Autoplay OFF   •   4 months ago
This is the second part of the 3 part series of my story: The Snow Child.

It is a story of the ghostly hauntings of Macarthy and how an unlikely hero saves the day.

Also, a lesson on how past hurts never heal on their own.

The Snow Child Part II. By Rayburn Sonier-McDonald

Chapter 3 The news of the ghost sighting spread around quickly. Soon all of Macarthy knew about it. Then, for a long while, no one seen or heard anything from this strange visitor. It seemed as if the whole thing, would soon be forgotten. Until, a group of teenagers met it.

They came back, terrified, for what they saw could not be explained. After some time, a few dared to speak. Although the memories were vivid in their minds, they seemed to forget it all the details. The account goes as such: There were seven teenagers, fishing on the river not far from town. These young people laughed the day away...

The boys were showing off to the girls and everyone was having a good time. That is, until they met the ghost. The ghost stood before them, not too far away. Indeed, this thing looked as if it were a child, but the eyes of it were white and glowing.

It spoke to them in words, far and distant the sounded. As if, the didn't belong to the place and place they were in. Some said the ghost had asked them to play. Others heard differently. One teenager didn't hear anything, he wasn't listening. Instead, he picked up a shovel and walked up to the ghost, warning it to not come any closer.

The ghost did just that, stopped speaking and didn't come any closer. What happened next, didn't seem possible. The teenager ran to the ghost and swung at it, but nothing was there. The shovel instead collided with the ice, breaking it in the process. The teenager fell into the river.

The rest of the group gathered around the hole in the river. Winds picked up and the ghosts screaming could be heard everywhere. The poor teenagers body was never found. The others ran back to Macarthy, as fast as they possibly could.

One had tripped on the way, cutting his head. By the time he finally arrived at the town, he was bloody and clearly going mad. The ghost had been speaking to him the entire time. After word of this event got around, the people of Macarthy grew very afraid.

"This town is haunted!" "We're no longer safe here!" Soon, no one wanted to work outside, knowing there was a ghost at large. This became an issue for the economy, so the mayor of Macarthy called a town meeting. "You're all going crazy!" the Mayor exclaimed, "As if this spells doom for us all!"

The people of Macarthy were still not satisfied. Things looked as if the were going to get out of control, so the mayor acted quickly. "I will send the best of my men out into the woods, whether they find it or not, the problem will be taken care of. In the meantime, no one leaves their homes!"

As nightfall came, Paul carried the rest of his firewood into his house. He stared out into the woods, wondering if there really was a ghost out there... ***

*** "Arthur...Arthur...listen to me." It was Samson. "We must leave this behind." Arthur sat in his house, staring at the floor. Samson stopped.

"Can't you see what this has done to you?!?" Samson looked at his brother. It would be the last conversation they would ever have together. "What all of this has made you become?" Arthur's eyes remained fixed on the floor.

"Whatever is in that mountain, has changed you. You're not the same person who rescued me from the wolves and dragged me through the forest all those days ago..." Samson got close to his brother and knelt down. A tear drop ran down his cheek. "What has happened to you? What has happened to my brother!?"

"Shut up!" Arthur lashed out at Samson, but it wasn't Samson at all. It was his youngest son asking him to play. Arthur had been daydreaming. The hit had left a red mark on the little boys cheek, his eyes began. He ran out the door and into the woods.

The boy was never coming back.

Chapter 4 Many days went by, but the men the mayor sent out, had not returned. People started to fear the worst. Although Paul was forbidden to leave his house, headed to the town's library, for there was something he needed to find out... ***

*** When the older brother came home, he expected to find his younger brother waiting for him. But he was no where to be found. He stared at his father, who was sitting in a chair. A bottle of whiskey resting in his hands. "Where is he?" the eldest son asked. "Where is my brother?"

Arthur Winston didn't even look at his son, his eyes were fixed on the floor. He opened his bottle and started to drink. His son grabbed the bottle and pulled it away from his lips, spilling some on his lap. "I said where is my-"

Arthur lashed out at his eldest son. The strong young man barely stumbled back, before knocking his father off his chair. "I'm sorry....I-I don't know what came over me ..." the son stuttered. The father groaned in pain, trying hard to sit up. "Son...come closer...there is something I need to tell you..."

The son obeyed. "What is it father?" "I need to do something...so that you...can be safe." "Safe? From what?" Arthur reached for the knife in his jacket. "The curse!"

He stabbed him in the stomach. The son screamed in agony. Blood appeared across the floor, he knew that there was no saving himself. With wide eyes, he stared into his father's. The body hit the floor. ***

*** As Paul walked towards the library, it was awfully cold. Though it was daytime, the clouds closing in, made everything dark. A snow storm was approaching. ***

Arthur Winston stared down at his eldest son. And for the first time, since he had seen that shiny rocky on the mountain, that one day long ago, he was himself again. "Son..." He laid there silently. "Son...get up." He didn't move.

"Son...please..." Arthur cried over his son, holding the cold hands, close to his body. ".....father...." the son gasped. Arthur stared deep into his eyes for the last time, "make sure...my broth...er...is...safe." With one last breath he passed on beyond this world.

"I love you son." Arthur let go of his son's hands. He went outside to look for his other son, the last thing he had worth living for. ***

*** Paul knocked on the library door. "Is anyone there?" An old women woman opened the door and looked at Paul. "Shouldn't be outside, young one..." She let Paul go into the library.

*** After hours of searching and shouting for his so, Arthur ha not had any luck. It was getting colder, darker and snow started to fall. He had planned to go back for another jacket and a lantern. When he got back home, several men stood in his house. Arthur's whiskey bottle and son, were still on the floor.

"No...I can explain...: Before he had a chance to, two men from both sides, slammed him in the gut. He fell to the floor. "What's there to explain Arthur? It was your shouts we heard, your whiskey, your knife and your own son. You ran into the woods, yet you came back. Why?" The guard captain spoke.

"Could only imagine what you did to your other son!" Arthur tried to get up, "You don't understand! He's still alive!" The men knocked him down again. "Tie him up!" The captain had ordered.

"Your are to spend the rest of your days behind bars, Arthur Winston, it is better for everyone that way." The men were getting ready to tie his hands, Arthur had realized, that there would be no talking out of it.

With a mighty effort, he broke free of the men's grip and ran out the door. A guard raised a gun at Arthur, as he ran away. It wouldn't be safe for a murderer to get away. The gun fired. The bullet shot into Arthur's back, but he kept running. Not for much longer, though. The last thing Arthur Winston ever saw, was the woods and his wife, standing there, smiling gently.

Arthur closed his eyes. He was dead before he ever stopped running. ***

*** Paul sat at a table in the library. The librarian joined him with two hot cups of pine tea. "Thank you," said Paul. She stared at him suspiciously, "So what is it that you wanted to ask me child?" "Did our first mayor, Arthur Winston ever have children?"

The librarian stared into Paul's eyes, looking for sincerity. "Why, he had two lovely sons. Killed them both. Such a shame. Arthur was a good man, he just went a little crazy near the end..." "What were their names?" Paul asked.

"Why, I would have to pull out a book to find that one out!" The old lady came back after a while with a big book. "Let's see here...Arthur Winston, founder of Macarthy..." she flipped through the pages. "Ah yes, here we are! '....his first born child a boy. His name was Hunter Winston, who would later join his father in Macarthy...."

She continued reading, "He would become to be a respected young man, for his hard work an leadership, when he was-" "What was the younger son's name?" Just then, a bell rang. It was the one that signified a town meeting. Paul took a quick glance at the page.

The librarian slammed the book shut. "We should go." Final part coming soon!

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