Horror Stories from Denmark Box set Page 12

  "The snowman ..." her mother said. "The snowman ate the dog? Now that has to be the stupidest thing you have ever come up with. Of all the lies ..."

  "But it's the truth!" Emma said stomping her feet in anger.

  Another slap across her cheek made Emma cry. "How could you let this happen, you fat little monster?!" her mother yelled. "How could you do this to me?"

  "Why won't you believe me?" Emma pleaded while her mother grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the dining room. As they left, Emma heard Irene Gyldenfeldt moan and whine.

  "My poor Herbert. I have to find him," she said. "Oh my God he must be so scared out there in this horrific snow. I have to find my Herbie before he is lost in that awful big forest."

  As she was pushed upstairs Emma heard the other women agree, but she never heard any of them offer to help.

  6

  HE WAS A BASTARD. He knew it and so did the many women who had screamed it at him over the years. But Michael didn't mind. It was just who he was. He was the type who would park his car in a handicap-space because he didn't think they should have the best spots or be in any way favored. He had even once fought a crippled guy for the last table at McDonalds. He got there first, why should he move just because the guy couldn't walk? After all it wasn't Michael's fault the guy was crippled. No, they had to learn the same way we all did, just like the rest of us, he thought to himself while kicking the snow on the trail in the forest where he was walking with Liv. This world wasn't for the weak; it was for people like Michael who understood how things worked.

  Michael walked slowly while smoking his cigarette, constantly looking behind them to see if anyone would spot him, spot them walking together.

  Liv was pushing a baby carriage in front of her. Inside a baby was babbling. Every now and then Michael would glance at the baby's face as it was about to fall asleep. Nope, still didn't look anything like him. Liv claimed the baby was his, but he refused to believe her. She called him at City Hall where he worked as a Press Coordinator earlier today and asked him to come to her house and talk about his role in all this, in the baby's and her life, but Michael refused.

  "I'm not coming, since the baby is not mine. How many times do I have to tell you?" he said and slammed the phone down.

  But Liv hadn't given up. She called again and then again and when he didn't answer she called his secretary and since she also used to sleep with Michael she had let her through. Liv pleaded him to at least meet with her and see the baby.

  "We can go for a walk," he said as his final offer. He chose the forest because he knew no one would be out in this weather, so they wouldn't be seen. Then he told her where and when.

  Now he was walking with her missing out on a great lunch with his colleagues at the restaurant next to City Hall where he normally picked up women in the bar after work. Yes, he knew his lifestyle would someday eventually come back to haunt him, but what did he care? Liv had no proof that he was the father. The child didn't even look like him. Was that small, wrinkly prune supposed to be his son? He didn't think so. If he ever had a son he would be handsome and have a lot more hair than this one.

  "I want to have a test taken," she said. "A test to determine that you are his father."

  "A paternity-test?" Michael smoked again and shook his head. This was too much. There was no way he was ever going to do such a thing.

  Liv nodded.

  "Nope," he said and blew out smoke. "I'm not doing it."

  She stopped walking. The baby whined and she gave him his pacifier. Two months old and already too demanding for Michael's taste. Too much work.

  "Why?" she asked.

  "Cause I don't want anything to do with this," he said and pointed in circles around the baby carriage where the baby sucked on the pacifier. "Not with any of it. I don't want to be the kid's father, I don't want to have it visiting me every other weekend, and I don't want it to know who I am. Hell, I don't even want to know that it exists."

  Liv turned her head and looked at him with contempt. "How can you talk like this? It's a baby for crying out loud. It's not an 'it' it's a 'he', and he is your son and his name is Jonathan."

  Michael gesticulated resignedly. "See I don't care. I really don't. And I'm telling you again; he is not mine!"

  "That's why I want you to take the test, so you can see it for yourself," Liv said and began rocking the carriage to calm down the baby who was now fussing.

  "But why?" Michael asked. "I don't want to be a part of it. So why even bother? Is it money? Do you need money? Cause I'll pay you to shut up, if you'd like that. I already offered you a boatload of money that you can take now and go somewhere and live happily with the ... with that ... thing in there," he said and pointed at the baby. "You can scream and yell at me all you want to but I'm not going to be the father of this child. Not of any child for that matter."

  Liv sighed. "I don't want your stupid money. It's not like I'm asking much here, Michael. Just a little responsibility, that's all. A little grown-up sense of responsibility for your actions."

  "And what, what do you suppose I should tell Pernille, huh? Just how am I supposed to explain that to my wife, who by the way can't have children? Do you want me to come home tonight and tell her, that oops, I hate to rub this in your face, honey, but since I couldn't make you pregnant, I went on and did it to someone else? Is that what I should tell her?"

  Liv snorted and shook her head. "I don't care what you tell her or what happens to you. I want you to accept your responsibility, I want you to be a father to the child you created."

  Michael killed his cigarette under his Italian leather shoes. Then he put his hands in the pockets of his black single-breasted Armani coat. "Well that's not what I want."

  "Who cares what you want, Michael? All I care about is my child, our child. I care that he will grow up knowing who his father is, even if he is a prick."

  On that last note, Liv sped up and walked with angry steps. Michael found a new cigarette and lit it. Then he walked fast and almost caught up with her. He rubbed his forehead, smoking the cigarette while walking a few steps behind. A few seconds later they left the forest and stood in a clearing with a few big houses to their right. It was a nice neighborhood, one of those Michael always wanted to live in. The forest on one side and the ocean on the other. It was gorgeous.

  Liv stopped suddenly, then turned and looked at Michael with fury. "You know what?" she said.

  "No, but I have a feeling you're gonna tell me," he said with a smirk.

  "You don't even get to be a part of Jonathan's life. You don't deserve it."

  Michael shrugged. "Then we agree," he said and puffed his cigarette again. "You don't want me in your kid's life and I don't ..."

  Michael didn't finish his sentence before something hit him in the face. Something wet. It hurt his cheek and he lifted his hand to touch it. Snow. Had someone thrown a snowball in his face?

  "What the hell ...?" he growled and turned to see who it could have been, ready to give them a piece of his mind. But no one was there. The area was empty. All he could see was a small chubby snowman a few steps away. He looked down and spotted footprints - half covered in new snow - surrounding the snowman. They looked small like they belonged to a child, probably some annoying kid who was now hiding fearing his anger. And what was that paw prints? It looked like they belonged to a small dog. Michael lifted his head and looked at the snowman again. Then he laughed. Some kid - probably the same one who had thrown the snowball - had built a small snow-dog next to it. It looked very real; he thought and smoked his cigarette again while walking closer to study the two snow-sculptures. This was really well made, could hardly be by a child, he thought. The dog was way too detailed. Michael stared at the snowman while blowing smoke at it. There was something about it that had him keep staring, something weird, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

  "Have you seen this?" he asked Liv. "It's quite remarkable. It has to have been made by some artist or something, maybe it
's a gimmick of some sort. But this snowman looks real and so does the dog. It's almost ... it's almost like he's looking at me." Michael turned his head and looked at Liv.

  She was frowning. "Could we get back to real life now?" she said. "We were kind of in the middle of something."

  "You have to come and see this," he said. "It's truly amazing."

  "I don't want to look at some stupid snowman or the dog for that matter. I'm freezing. I want to get back to the car and go home."

  Michael stared at the snowman and studied its details; he couldn't take his eyes off of it now. He moved his head from side to side and what was that? It looked like it followed him with the eyes. Did it just move its eyes?

  Startled, Michael stepped backwards. "Did you see that?"

  "See what?"

  "It moved. The eyes moved!"

  Liv sighed. "It did not move," she said with a tired voice. "You're being ridiculous. You're such a child."

  "No, I'm not kidding. This thing looked at me. It's kind of eerie when you think about it." Michael smoked one last time, and then killed the cigarette in the snow. When he lifted his head, he was certain the snowman moved his head too.

  "Did you see that?" Michael said.

  "What?" Liv asked.

  "It moved its head! While I was bending down it moved its head and looked at me, then when I lifted my head, he returned his back to the same position. I'm certain, Liv. I'm not lying. It moved!"

  "So you have no problem calling a snowman 'he' do you?"

  Michael stepped a little backwards. Liv stared at him.

  "You're shivering, Michael."

  "Well it is kind of creepy, don't you think?"

  "It's just a snowman, Michael. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

  Michael shook his head. "I'm not sure. Maybe we should leave."

  Liv burst out laughing. "Do you mean to tell me that you are seriously afraid of a snowman and his little snow-dog? Really? The big City Hall Press Coordinator Michael Larsen is afraid of a little snow," she said and still while laughing she walked towards the snowman and put her face close to it to better study it. Michael took another step away from the snowman, he wanted to tell Liv to get away too, but he couldn't get the words across his lips. Instead he whimpered something that made no sense.

  Liv turned her head and looked at him, and then she tilted her head and chuckled. "You're really scared of this thing, aren't yo ..."

  As she spoke the snowman suddenly moved. A face grew out of it and it lifted his branch for hands and grabbed Liv by the ponytail. Michael watched while the snowman pulled it and Liv screamed. Then a terrible noise followed as he watched the snowman open its mouth and reveal a row of spiky teeth.

  Suddenly Michael's whimper turned into something useful. Suddenly he was able to scream. He screamed and screamed while watching Liv's head disappear into the snowman. She was still alive; her arms were moving while Michael heard the sounds of someone chewing, of bones being crushed. Oh my God, it was her skull! Michael wanted to move, he really did. He wanted to do something to help her, but his body was frozen. His legs wouldn't move. And when they finally did it was too late. He jumped towards her and grabbed her leg and began to pull. But this force, whatever it was, this force of the devil was stronger than he. It was sucking in Liv's body, crunching her bones; blood was spurting in the air and landing on the white snow, coloring it. Some of it even hit Michael in the face and he cried and pulled on Liv's leg, screaming her name, but no matter how much he fought for her life, it was too late. Crying, sulking, he had to let go of her. He understood in that terrifying moment, that she was already dead. He fell into the snow while staring at this scene and the legs of Liv moving while being swallowed when a moment of clarity came over him:

  You have to get away from here. You have to make a run for it.

  So he did. He got up, turned and looked at the baby carriage. The baby! I have to save my son!

  The snowman was grumbling and growling as it greedily swallowed the rest of Liv. Shrieking and screaming Michael grabbed the handle of the carriage and began to run. Pushing the baby in front of him he ran for his life.

  7

  IRENE GYLDENFELDT WAS an important woman. Born into aristocracy she lived a rich life and was used to everyone listening carefully when she spoke. People would usually jump if she told them to. It was therefore with great surprise she realized that even though she did find herself in a very unpleasant situation, her old friends from boarding school had no intention of helping her out in her time of need. They all agreed it was terrible that her dog had run off, oh yes how they agreed it was indeed unfortunate - no one proposed to help her go out and find him. One of them even had the audacity to tell her that Herbert probably would come back to the house on his own, if we gave him some time.

  So Irene Gyldenfeldt had to do it alone. She put on her full-length mink-coat and walked out in the backyard of her friend's house with cautious steps. She was wearing high-heeled boots that sank into the snow that was coming down so fast, it was now knee-deep.

  She stepped out and tried to walk through the snow while feeling the icy snow touch her legs through the thin stockings underneath her dress. Irene Gyldenfeldt wasn't the type of woman who cursed, but had she been, this would have been the time to do it.

  Now where did that little plump girl take her dog? Irene knew she had gone behind the hedge, since she had said they went to that silly snowman on the other side that Irene now spotted on the hill. If she knew her little Herbert well he had sprung for the forest as soon as she had let go of the leash. Who knew what kind of atrocities he would encounter in there? Oh he had to be so scared, the poor thing. All alone in those dark trees. What if he had gotten hurt somehow? Broken a leg, maybe and couldn't walk? Maybe that was why he didn't come back to her? Irene let out a small shriek at the thought. Nature was no place for a purebred.

  "Von Herbeeeert?" she called out. The sound of her voice was dampened by the thick snow. "Heeeerrbiiieee!"

  Irene Gyldenfeldt crossed the backyard with much difficulty in her high heels, but managed to make it to the hedge. She peeked out from over the top and scanned the area. She could see the snowman on top of the hill, but no Herbert. She called again.

  "Come here Herbie, come to Mommy."

  Irene grew anxious. Herbert had to be hurt, that was the only explanation. He always came when she called. Just like everybody else in Irene's life. Even if it was the men, all she had to do was to say the word, give the call and they were there, ready to service her. It was part of the reason she had never married. There were just too many nice men out there, to settle for just one. Many had tried, yes, they sure had, but none were chosen. Irene had no time for love, nor marriage. She was way too important to have that kind of burden. No, she didn't want it and never would. She was as free as a bird and did whatever she darn well pleased. Marriage and children were only a burden, chains to hold you down. Irene figured that out many years ago. That was after her first - and only - real long-term relationship. Christopher was his name. He had pulled a number on her. The only man she had ever loved turned out to be a phony. The police had told her. While floating on her pink cloud of happiness they came to her house to let her know that Christopher wasn't who he claimed to be. Actually Christopher wasn't even his real name. He was a German player named Hans, known to get rich women to fall in love with him and then get them to sponsor all kinds of impossible projects before her ran off with the money.

  Irene hadn't believed them at first, but they had evidence. Pictures of him with other women and a warrant for his arrest. They asked if she would help them get to him. Dizzy by this kick of reality in her guts she had accepted. Three years and she had never seen this coming, she hadn't suspected a thing. After that she never trusted a man again. She was right not to do so. They were all just liars and bastards and the only way to control them and not get hurt was to be the one using them. So that was what Irene had done ever since. Used them and thrown them away. S
he had many lovers all over the world, in her apartment in Singapore, in her house in Spain, on her favorite island in Greece. She didn't need anyone else. Kids? Well, she had Von Herbert, didn't she? He was so much easier than any child she had met. Even if Irene did look at Agnete with a hint of jealousy, she would never admit it. But she was actually impressed with her. Irene actually meant it when she said; "I don't know how you do it." She really didn't. Juggling both family and career this successfully was quite impressive. And that daughter of hers was truly adorable.

  Irene stared at the forest, then at the hill again. Could he have run over the hill? Then she tilted her head slightly. What was that? Were there two snowmen? Yes, so it seemed. Had they been there all the time? Didn't there used to be only one? Irene shook her head. She didn't see well without her glasses. She was shortsighted. No, they had probably both been there all the time. What was next to the two snowmen? That small thing sitting by their feet? Could it be? Could it possibly be her Herbie?

  8

  EMMA WATCHED EVERYTHING from her window upstairs. Determined to never let the snowman out of sight again, she watched as a man and a woman with a carriage had argued in front of it. Then she saw the snowman shape a snowball and throw it in the guy’s face, and then the man looking closely at it, like her father would do when he saw a car he thought was nice.

  Emma had also noticed that the snowman now was accompanied by a snow-dog very similar to Von Herbert in size. Emma tried to knock on the window and warn the couple once she saw how close the man got to it, but they hadn't heard her. With her fist clenched she screamed and yelled to warn them. Desperately she tried to open the window, but her mom had long ago child-proofed the locks so no matter how smart Emma was, she could only open them enough to stick a couple of fingers out. She tried to yell through the crack, but no one heard her. When she saw the snowman pull the woman's ponytail, Emma gasped and sprang for the door wanting to run to them and warn them. But her mom had locked the door to her room as a punishment. Banging on it didn't seem to help.