03-18-2020, 07:24 PM
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As dawn stretched over the southern swamp, a crisp white blanket draped the budding land, a late snowfall before spring breathed new life into wilted greenery. With sunlight, the frost would surely melt to slush, rivers bulging with the added flow and shoes damp from trudging about in the muddy remnants by noon.
But Beck wasn't one to let a good snow day just melt without enjoying it.
Early morning light crept through the frosted window and sheer curtains, illuminating the stalking approach of the poltergeist toward the bed, two cuddled figures beneath the quilt. He watched the couple for a moment, head tilting as a fond smile twisted chewed lips. Then a bandaged hand reached for Selby's shoulder, lightly nudging him awake. The sawbones stirred without much prompting, blinking groggily up at him. "Oh... good morning," he mumbled, stretching his lanky form.
"It snowed," Beck stated in a hushed voice, the grin plastering his face revealing his excitement as he rocked his weight with impatience. He had taken care, for once, to wipe the mud covering his boots before entering, the carpet sullied already from prior unannounced visits where he regrettably tracked his usual grime into the home.
Honey-brown eyes followed Selby as the man shifted to lean on his elbows. "It did?" came the unsure echo, not quite expecting a blizzard in the midst of March. The boy only nodded, disheveled bangs flopping with the enthusiastic gesture as his smile widened, gauze-wrapped hands wringing themselves out of nervous habit. Selby sat more upright, peeking out the window to confirm the poltergeist's outlandish claim. Beck's smile proved contagious as a similar expression brightened Selby's tired features.
His smaller, clammier hand seized Selby's, nearly tugging him out of bed. "C'mon! We've gotta play in it before it melts!" he urged, heels digging into the carpet to lift Selby -- although the sawbones soon got up on his own, hand still intertwined with Beck's.
It took only a few minutes of wait for Selby to bundle himself up, not keen on stepping outside to be greeted with a frigid gust of wind. Beck remained in the same tattered tunic and shorts as always, standing ankle-deep in the snow without so much as a shiver. Countless activities possible with the cold blessing from the heavens rushed through his mind; there was so much they could do, but only mere hours before the afternoon heat stole away the snow.
Yet before he could dash off into the powdery white, a tap on his shoulder prompted him to glance back. A scowl overtook his gleeful expression as Selby held out a folded jacket to him, along with a pair of mittens and a wrapped-up scarf. After momentary refusal and giving the argument of how he was apparently immune to the cold, Beck begrudgingly shrugged the jacket on, although it required even more convincing from Selby for the rest.
Inevitably, he settled upon creating a family of snowmen. Snow clung to the wool of the borrowed mittens as he knelt, rolling the first sphere of three with a pale tongue poking out from between crooked teeth in concentration. As the boy shuffled along, the snowball gained mass, awkwardly shaped by uneven terrain. Beck patted the sides, packing in loose snow and shaving off the excess with careful consideration until he deemed his work perfect. The poltergeist stood to admire the base of his snowman, one bandaged knee now damp while the bruised other was sticky with snow. Then he sat on his heels and the process repeated, beginning with a handful he smushed together.
But Beck wasn't one to let a good snow day just melt without enjoying it.
Early morning light crept through the frosted window and sheer curtains, illuminating the stalking approach of the poltergeist toward the bed, two cuddled figures beneath the quilt. He watched the couple for a moment, head tilting as a fond smile twisted chewed lips. Then a bandaged hand reached for Selby's shoulder, lightly nudging him awake. The sawbones stirred without much prompting, blinking groggily up at him. "Oh... good morning," he mumbled, stretching his lanky form.
"It snowed," Beck stated in a hushed voice, the grin plastering his face revealing his excitement as he rocked his weight with impatience. He had taken care, for once, to wipe the mud covering his boots before entering, the carpet sullied already from prior unannounced visits where he regrettably tracked his usual grime into the home.
Honey-brown eyes followed Selby as the man shifted to lean on his elbows. "It did?" came the unsure echo, not quite expecting a blizzard in the midst of March. The boy only nodded, disheveled bangs flopping with the enthusiastic gesture as his smile widened, gauze-wrapped hands wringing themselves out of nervous habit. Selby sat more upright, peeking out the window to confirm the poltergeist's outlandish claim. Beck's smile proved contagious as a similar expression brightened Selby's tired features.
His smaller, clammier hand seized Selby's, nearly tugging him out of bed. "C'mon! We've gotta play in it before it melts!" he urged, heels digging into the carpet to lift Selby -- although the sawbones soon got up on his own, hand still intertwined with Beck's.
It took only a few minutes of wait for Selby to bundle himself up, not keen on stepping outside to be greeted with a frigid gust of wind. Beck remained in the same tattered tunic and shorts as always, standing ankle-deep in the snow without so much as a shiver. Countless activities possible with the cold blessing from the heavens rushed through his mind; there was so much they could do, but only mere hours before the afternoon heat stole away the snow.
Yet before he could dash off into the powdery white, a tap on his shoulder prompted him to glance back. A scowl overtook his gleeful expression as Selby held out a folded jacket to him, along with a pair of mittens and a wrapped-up scarf. After momentary refusal and giving the argument of how he was apparently immune to the cold, Beck begrudgingly shrugged the jacket on, although it required even more convincing from Selby for the rest.
Inevitably, he settled upon creating a family of snowmen. Snow clung to the wool of the borrowed mittens as he knelt, rolling the first sphere of three with a pale tongue poking out from between crooked teeth in concentration. As the boy shuffled along, the snowball gained mass, awkwardly shaped by uneven terrain. Beck patted the sides, packing in loose snow and shaving off the excess with careful consideration until he deemed his work perfect. The poltergeist stood to admire the base of his snowman, one bandaged knee now damp while the bruised other was sticky with snow. Then he sat on his heels and the process repeated, beginning with a handful he smushed together.