Villa Zwerg

Rosie woke up somewhere she shouldn’t have. This time it was under the kitchen table. A spider was walking across her cheek. Rosie was not afraid of it, but noticing it prevented her from getting up right away and hitting her head to the table. She felt the tickle on her face, and she focused on catching the spider gently with her fingers. From the spider, her gaze moved to its webs, and she noticed they were covering the legs of the table. Then the spider was gone as if it had done its duty.

Rosie kept her head down and crawled out backwards. The floorboards were cool against her knees, left uncovered by her short lace dress. She sat down on the floor anyway. She really was in the kitchen. Everything was a familiar grey, the floor, the table, the cupboards. The traces of paint everywhere might have been white in the past.

Rosie felt her hair with her hand. It was as messy as she’d thought. The red ribbon she’d used as a headband was about to fall off.

Rosie got up and went to look for the bathroom. The floor creaked as she walked out of the kitchen. She glanced around, and saw the corridor, the front door, and the stairs, exactly where she thought they belonged. She walked along the corridor, listening to the creaking in the otherwise silent house. She stopped when she saw a mirror on the wall, and a hairbrush on the dresser under it. She wasn’t sure if those had been there before.

Rosie went to look at herself. She realized the light was a bit grey in the house, so she didn’t worry when she saw her face. She just grimaced a little. Then she took the loose ribbon off and brushed her hair with long strokes. Soon it looked shiny, straight, and thick again, and she tied the ribbon back into place. Now her reflection looked a million times better. In the weirdest days, she was thankful for her strong features and dark hair, because she didn’t need a lot of make up to look like a decent human being. That made the days at least a little easier to bear.

Rosie sighed, a bit more satisfied, and her eyes happened to wander into the brush in her hand. It looked like silver and was full of ornaments. It had felt a little too sharp to be hers. She thought it must belong to Snow.

Rosie looked around for a moment. The whole corridor seemed to creak as she switched her weight from one foot to the other. Then she noticed a draft. There was a strange humming mixed into it, but when Rosie thought about it, she felt like it was coming from a different direction. Upstairs, maybe.

Rosie didn’t hear anyone else move in the house. Her gaze shifted to the white stairs, peeking at her from all the greyness around. But before she had time to move, she heard footsteps.

Snow woke up surrounded by feathers. Opening her eyes, she saw one floating slowly towards her in the air. It must have fallen out of her hair and got in the way of her breathing out, breathing in, and out again…

Snow blew more air at it. The feather rose towards the ceiling that looked distantly familiar. She turned her head from left to right and saw all the feathers covering the floor. She probably hadn’t been lying there for that long, she thought. Her back didn’t ache. The light was that of noon, but the window behind her didn’t let that many pillars of light in. She decided she must be in the west side of the house. She didn’t know how she’d got there.

Snow sat up slowly. She turned and saw what she’d been expecting. The feathers had fallen over her, so they left her shape on the floor, now that she had sat up. She looked around while pondering. She was pretty sure she had slept in that room before. She might be wrong, but she didn’t have anything else to start with. The white bed, the torn mattress, and the vanity were all familiar. She wasn’t sure if they’d been arranged the same way before.

Snow stood up, and the room seemed to move a little. She held on to the corner of the vanity. She wanted to think the fault was in her own head. She took a step to the direction of the closed door, and the floor creaked loudly. Then came a strong and sudden wind, that made the window slam open with a bang. Snow turned in surprise.

The wind blew the feathers up in the air. They danced around, filling the entire room. Snow stepped forward and let one of them drop on her palm. She had to admit the dance of the feathers was beautiful. She rose to her toes to catch a big feather. That’s when the floor seemed to come to life again. Snow almost lost her balance. She crouched, looking at the feather in her hand. Then she looked around again, because she realized there were no pillows in the room. She had thought the feathers must have come from pillows. Where had they come from? There didn’t seem to be an explanation in the room.

Snow hated not knowing. She let the feather fall from her hand, as she strode to the door. The floor seemed to twist as she crossed it, but she got to the door fast, got out of the room and slammed the door closed.

The house felt solid again. Snow sighed in relief and looked around the upstairs lounge. There wasn’t really anything to look at, though. Just the empty space, surrounded by doors here and there. And then there were the stairs, leading upstairs and downstairs. Snow thought they looked untrustworthy.

And it was cold here. Snow looked down at herself. She had shorts on, and a loose white top. The clothes weren’t hers. At least she didn’t remember it being so. The clothes had to be Viola’s. She didn’t remember that either, but they had to be, because Rosie wouldn’t have worn anything like them.

But Snow stopped thinking about the mystery of the clothes and the feathers and headed downstairs. She just wanted to get closer to the ground.

Viola woke up in darkness. She tried to open her eyes again and again, but she only saw black. She could’ve panicked, but something in the air seemed to communicate peace. Viola couldn’t explain it, but from the air around, she knew that it was daylight, and she’d find a way into it somehow. As she looked more carefully, she saw that the darkness was lighter in some spots.

Viola sat on the floor and pulled something around her tighter. It felt like a blanket. Viola realized she didn’t have anything else on. The floor was rock hard and just a bit moist. Viola closed her eyes again and felt the air around her. She was certain that it was warmer somewhere close. She stood up and folded the blanket tightly around her like a dress. A sense of familiarity made her sniff it. The blanket had to be Snow’s because it smelled like her.

Viola looked forward, where the darkness seemed the least dark, and where she thought the sense of warmth was coming from. She took a careful step forward. Her foot found something right away. She felt at it slowly with her foot, and then her hand, and almost gave a laugh. They were the stairs, and she had slept beside them. She was in the cellar.

Suddenly the endless darkness felt a lot smaller. Viola didn’t see any better than she had, but she could feel the shelves and piles of boxes around her now, from memory. She placed her foot on the first step and searched for the railing. It was where it should be, familiar, round and cold. Viola climbed slowly. At some point she felt like the stairs should’ve ended already, but she kept climbing. Finally, she reached the wooden door. She pushed with both hands.

The door opened, and Viola stepped into the light. At first it was so bright that she was blinded by it. Then she was confused. The light seemed to settle down into the familiar corridor’s walls, floor and corners. She looked behind her and the cellar got a bit of that light too. Viola could see a lot of what she had remembered, and she felt like the cellar shouldn’t have been so dark, and the stairs really didn’t look that long. She should’ve at least seen around her a little bit.

Viola shrugged. She closed the door and pranced through the corridor. She turned to another one that led to the small lobby. At the doorstep she stopped. She heard footsteps from two directions.

Three girls met at the three doors of the lobby. They stepped over the doorsteps and immediately stood almost at the centre of the lobby. For a moment their eyes moved around as if in a ring game. Then they stopped.

One of the girls was tall. She had thick dark hair and lips like rose petals. Her eyes were small, but round, and their movements very visible. The girl in front of her was short and fragile looking. Her platinum blond hair resembled a snow storm. Her eyes were deep in the head like they were looking for shelter. The last girl stood straight and confident up to her shoulders, but her neck hung like a violet, and her big green eyes were shadowed by her brows. The short corn hair had almost grown to her eyes as well.

– Under the kitchen table, said the dark haired girl to the others.

– Upstairs floor, said the short girl.

– The cellar, said the green-eyed one.

Everyone was quiet and looked at each other.

The dark haired girl sighed and looked ahead, over the head of the shorty. Everyone else did the same, each to their own direction. And then everyone passed each other, continuing their way straight to one of the house’s three doors. The dark haired girl opened the door next to the broom closet. The short girl went through the living room, to the small door that almost disappeared among the windows. The green-eyed girl continued through the lobby to the front door.

Rosie stepped outside. She sighed out loud and leaned on the wall for a moment. The sunlight seemed to have a warmer colour here than inside. Rosie straightened herself and stepped down the small stairs, slipping her feet into the wooden shoes waiting for her in front of the stairs. They were so cold it made her grimace. Then she grabbed the little watering pot beside the stairs.

Rosie walked towards the woods surrounding the house. She went through the rampant yard, past the dry berry bushes, over the just one-step-wide stream. She kept looking forward and didn’t stop walking.

She came to the first row of birches. Behind them, she saw her destination. The narrow path led Rosie through the trees that grew far apart. The ground looked dry. And still, among the trees, on the ground, grew a lone, dark red rose. It was less than a foot tall, looking defenceless in its surroundings, but it had managed to grow straight as a line. The flower was big, its petals flawless, angular, almost sharp. The leaves were deep green and thick. The thorns seemed non-existent.

Rosie stopped in front of the rose and watered it close to the roots. Even though the flower looked strong, she was always careful. She looked deeply focused, until nothing but drops were left in the pot. That’s when Rosie looked around quickly. She only saw birches and further away some darker trees. She stood up, glancing at the rose, and then walked back to the house a fast as the wooden shoes let her.

Snow stepped onto the veranda. A breeze startled her. It felt so aggressive on her skin, despite the sun being high already. The floor boards under her feet felt damp and the benches on it glistened with dew. Snow tiptoed quickly across the veranda and stepped down to the lawn. It felt soft under her feet. She stood there for a moment and rubbed her cold arms. She looked around. The yard seemed deserted to her. Like the wind was her only companion.

Snow went to get the watering pot from the corner of the veranda. She looked around again. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, like she was expecting to see something. Then she stopped, to look at the row of spruces. Snow tiptoed her way across the lawn.

Behind the trees, a sapling of a snowberry was waiting for her.

Viola slammed the front door closed and hopped down the stairs. She sat down on the last step to pull long, striped socks on her feet. She had tied the blanket around herself like a toga. In front of the stairs stood a watering pot which she grabbed along as she continued her way straight through the yard. She hurried past the mailbox. The road from the yard turned right, but Viola continued straight to the woods ahead. She stepped over the stream between the road and the trees and found herself under a gate of pines.

Viola finally stopped for a moment. She looked up, to the treetops. They looked a bit like cotton candy to her, but the sun didn’t shine a lot through them. Viola continued on before ants had a chance to climb her socks.

Under the twigs on the ground, a small violet reached up to Viola. It looked like the only one in the woods.

Three girls met again in the lobby. Rosie’s brows had grown closer together, Snow’s arms looked red, and Viola’s socks were wet.

– Put some clothes on, Viola, Rosie said after taking a look at her.

– Snow has my clothes, said Viola.

– You’ve got more, haven’t you? said Snow quickly. Viola lifted her gaze somewhere towards the upper floors.

– Probably, but you’ve got to help me look.

– Well, I don’t like going there. I still have clothes on, so I don’t want to risk them disappearing, said Rosie.

– You’re scared of waking up naked yourself next morning, Viola said with a grin.

– Yes, I am!

– I can cut myself a dress from the table cloth, said Snow quietly. – You can have your clothes back.

– That’ll work, said Viola with a relaxed sigh. She took off her socks and turned to put them beside the front door. They had never disappeared.

Snow was wearing the lace table cloth from the kitchen. She had cut a hole in it for her head, and little ribbons from the sides of it. One of them she had tied to her waist as a belt, and two others she had threaded through the holes in the lace, pulling the edges of the cloth together at her sides. It almost looked like a real dress.

Somehow, Rosie felt annoyed by it. Snow was sitting in the living room embrasure browsing through some lifestyle magazine she had found on the floor. She didn’t notice Rosie staring at her from the other side of the living room. Rosie was sitting in a chair, leaning her arms on the little table in front of her. She had let her gaze wander in her boredom, but then it had stopped to Snow.

Now Rosie was just staring and thinking about her annoyance. Maybe it was caused by the way that Snow seemed to simply be in that make-shift dress, as if it was any piece of clothing. She had changed from the loose shorts and top, to a dress made with a few scissor cuts, but Snow herself didn’t seem to change at all. Besides, the dress looked oddly stylish on her. Effortless. Rosie wasn’t like that. Snow just was. Perfect Snow. She just looked like Snow, and nothing else, nothing unnecessary, nothing missing. Even if she didn’t remember to brush her hair in the morning.

Rosie stared, and Snow didn’t look up. She seemed to be actually reading the magazine. That annoyed Rosie as well. Snow was able to do something like that, something so out of character, without caring at all, without a fear that it would make her less Snow. She probably wasn’t even aware that reading that sort of a magazine was out of character for her.

Rosie continued to stare. She looked at Snow’s bare legs, folded effortlessly under her. She looked at the blond tangles and the smooth, round shoulders. She looked at the nose, which was evidently only just big enough for breathing. That certainly didn’t go as logically with everyone else! Rosie’s gaze shifted to Snow’s eyelashes. Suddenly they seemed captivatingly white.

Rosie straightened and almost got up from the chair.

And then Viola stomped into the room. Rosie leaned back to the table and her eyes shifted to Viola.

There was no trace of Snow’s flawlessness in Viola’s appearance! And yet, even Viola, just was. Now that irritated Rosie, possibly even more than Snow did. Viola’s smile was too clueless, and that was the reason it was too big. Viola wasn’t light and skinny like Snow, and still she used any clothes as if she was. Her breasts bounced under her thin, almost transparent top, as she walked. And they were childish, too! Like there was way too much breast under her nipple and too little above it. Yes, Rosie could see even that through that ridiculous top. And Viola seemed completely unaware that the floor moaned and trembled under her. Like an insufferable brat who thinks the point of badminton is to hit the shuttle as hard as you can.

– Aren’t you cold? Rosie asked Viola.

– A little. I didn’t find other clothes, Viola said with a laugh.

– You could’ve kept the blanket.

– I lost it.

Rosie rolled her eyes and turned away. She couldn’t stare at Snow anymore, so she started at the portraits on the walls instead. Viola seemed to follow the example.

Rosie didn’t know whose pictures they were. There were women and men, and some you couldn’t be sure of. Young, old, and everything in between. Some had tall lace collars and some had sunglasses. Really, nothing tied them together.

– They all look so anxious. Every time.

Rosie turned to Viola who had said that. Viola saw her wrinkled brow and shrugged.

– Even if the rest of the house doesn’t make any sense and turns upside down, Viola said. – They still look the same. Always. There isn’t one happy or sad picture in the house. Every face has that same empty, tense expression.

Viola was silent for a moment and seemed to look at Rosie deeper. Then her eyes shifted back to the portraits, and back to Rosie again. For a second she looked like she was going to say something, but Rosie turned her eyes away before she could. Rosie stopped to look at Snow again, since she didn’t know where else to look. And Snow too, had raised her eyes from the magazine, to look at Viola. But her expression was as hard to read as ever.

Snow mustered up the courage to go upstairs alone. The sun was already setting, but not enough for her to be alarmed.

Rosie had raised her voice at Viola again, and neither of them had paid any particular attention to Snow, so she had pitied her ears and changed floors. As the sun was still shining from the windows, she felt the upper floors were safe too. At least, not particularly dangerous.

Snow was the most nervous when she didn’t know her surroundings. That had grown from a hunch to a fact. She had explored most of the house so many days in a row, even though it scared her. She didn’t know how many exactly, and she didn’t even try to remember.

Snow had noticed that some rooms were always in the same place, but she didn’t trust that it would stay that way. She didn’t even trust the fault was in the house, and not her. She couldn’t make enough sense of Viola and Rosie. She couldn’t trust that they saw exactly what she did. But Snow did trust, that exploring was the best way to find out what all of this was.

The stairs creaked loudly. Snow walked slowly, to hear if there was any other noise. She stood still after climbing the stairs to the second floor. Her breath was shallow. The floor seemed quiet.

Snow went to the door of the room she had woken up in. She peeked in. The floor was empty. The furniture was still in place. Her throat started to feel tight. She had just begun to think this room was always in the same place too. What was inside it changed, but it had to be the same room.

Snow didn’t particularly care to go in. She closed the door and turned to look around. Every door in the lounge was closed. It made her anxious. If the curtains in those rooms were closed too, she would have to look into dark rooms. Still, she went to the door on the other side of the lounge, tiptoeing, and opened it even more carefully than the last one.

Snow’s heart jumped to her throat the second she looked in. The room was indeed dark, and in that darkness, there was someone standing in the middle of it. The figure looked like a woman, who was standing her back toward Snow. She could only make out the silhouette.

For a moment, Snow just had to stare. She stared, and the figure seemed completely still. She stared, and her heartbeat quickened. She stared at the back of the figure’s head, and she could just feel it being alive. The moment the figure would turn around, came closer. It would turn at any second now. Snow heard her heart loud in her ears. She blinked, and suddenly wished she hadn’t. She was sure she had missed something by doing that. Something terrible must have happened already. A mistake.

Snow’s gaze seemed to have frozen to the back of the figure’s head. And then something happened in the room. Something changed. Snow didn’t know what. And then she was sure the figure’s hair had moved. It would turn around, right now.

Snow drew a breath and stepped away from the doorstep, slamming the door shut. The entire house felt like trembling from the shock of it. Snow didn’t stay to wonder about it. She ran straight to the next stairs and stomped up. Only after she had stopped to the next floor to catch her breath, Snow wondered why she hadn’t run downstairs. She looked back at the stairs she’d climbed. She had run them up, terrified, and loudly, she was sure of it. It felt so stupid. She was running from something, after all, she should’ve been quiet.

Snow didn’t remember what she was running from, anymore.

Snow concluded she must have come here because she knew it was safe. But how could she trust that? After all, she didn’t remember her reasoning. And she didn’t really feel like she could trust anything in this house.

Snow straightened herself and looked around. What had she been doing in the first place?

It was dark.

Viola had gone to the darkness of the cellar, and when she came back, she seemed to have let it out of the open cellar door. It had spread everywhere. She couldn’t see clearly ahead, not anywhere. Sun had still been up when she went to the cellar, and it shouldn’t have gone down so quickly. But, Viola didn’t really trust common sense. She trusted her eyes more.

Viola wasn’t scared of the dark, but somehow, she felt like it wasn’t okay to yell, to call out to anyone. Like she didn’t want to break the dark. She walked ahead, her arms feeling for the walls. The floor didn’t creak under her anymore. Somewhere, in the corner of her eye, she saw light.

Viola turned, and it was gone. But she thought she had seen it move, so she continued on, a little faster. She went along the wall and turned left when it ended. Just a few steps more, and then she saw it again.

Rosie stopped still across from Viola. She had a candle in her hand. She looked at Viola.

– Well, I thought it would be you! Viola said.

Rosie didn’t say anything, but she didn’t look angry anymore, so that was enough for Viola.

– I think I saw it from the door when you went through the kitchen.

– I guess, Rosie said.

– So, the living room would be in that direction, Viola said and pointed.

– Yes.

Rosie was quiet, and Viola sighed. Rosie just stood there, looking at her.

– I didn’t find Snow, Viola said.

– I noticed, Rosie said and drew a loud breath through her nose.

The silence went on. Viola looked at what was visible of Rosie’s eyes in the candlelight. They seemed a bit like stone right now. Viola didn’t know what to do with that kind of thing. She didn’t seem to be able to wrap her head around what Rosie was about. Where did she start, where did she end?

She knew one thing, though.

– We have to go upstairs to look.

Rosie looked startled.

– Snow doesn’t go there when it’s dark.

Well, Rosie herself didn’t seem to go there at all.

– But she isn’t anywhere else. She could’ve gone there earlier and got lost, Viola said.

Rosie’s lips tightened. Viola knew she couldn’t come up with an argument. This was about Snow, after all. Viola didn’t even have to bring it up.

Viola turned and looked for the way to the stairs without another word. Soon she saw them, because the candlelight had appeared behind her.

Rosie didn’t know when the last time was, that she had climbed the stairs. And now she was going to the third floor! She had fuzzy memories about waking up somewhere other than downstairs once. But she didn’t remember how long ago. It might as well have been a dream. Everything in her life right now might as well have been one!

The candle Rosie was holding revealed familiar looking stairs, but maybe that was only because they looked the same downstairs. Viola walked behind her and made the stairs creak and moan like usual. Rosie bit her teeth. There was no sign of Snow. The house was too quiet. Even the wind didn’t keep the corners alive right now.

Rosie felt like the stomping was crawling under her skin. It filled her ears. Rosie turned.

– Damn it, Viola, can’t you walk quie-

Rosie stopped still and went quiet.

Viola was not behind her. The staircase was empty. But the sound of stomping still echoed around Rosie.

Rosie froze. The sound got louder. It was coming towards her, step by step. She looked around in panic. She saw no one. But the steps were coming, she was sure they were coming towards her!

Rosie’s breath quickened. Tears started stubbornly making their way into her eyes. She never should have come up here! She was sure Snow wasn’t even around. Rosie never should have listened to Viola.

Rosie’s breath came out in a whiny little sound. She would have to escape to the third floor, even though it felt like such a bad idea.

That’s when the candle in her hand went out, as if someone had blown it off.

Rosie screamed, and crouched down on the stairs. The steps echoed still, surrounded her. Rosie didn’t know where they were coming from, anymore. She covered her ears with her hands, made herself small, trying to hide, like she could curl into herself and disappear.

She sat there in the darkness and cried. The steps were so close they could’ve been her own heartbeat.

Nothing ran into Rosie, nothing went past her. She sat there for a long time in the loud stomping.

Rosie’s hands fell upon her lap. She breathed slowly and heavily. She was now listening more to her own breathing than the stomping. Maybe the steps were not even close to her. Maybe they had nothing to do with her. Maybe, they were not interested in her at all. Maybe they didn’t even know about her.

Rosie felt like her eyes had turned into glass. She was numb.

Finally, Rosie stood up. It was so dark she couldn’t see the stairs. She closed her eyes. She felt for the wall and started walking upstairs again.

Suddenly, Rosie felt the coldness, like quietly spreading ice. Ice, that wanted to get out. Rosie felt like she was supposed to follow it. Maybe Snow could, by some miracle, be found that way.

Snow was frozen. She was alone, and she was cold. She was certain the floor had turned into a skating rink. Her legs were stiff, she couldn’t move normally.

How had she ended up there? Where was there?

Snow had fled from something, but her escape hadn’t come to an end. It had simply become very long and cold. The longer she ran, the colder it became. She clasped her frozen hands together. Her lashes were glued together. She tried to keep her eyes open, but it hurt. Her tablecloth dress felt like cardboard.

Around Snow, everything was dark ice.

Viola ran into Rosie, when she stopped in front of Viola, after they had reached the third floor.

Rosie gasped and turned, taking a few steps away from Viola, as if she was preparing to defend herself. Viola looked at her in confusion. Rosie looked horrified. That’s how Viola realized it wasn’t so dark anymore. She could see Rosie’s face. Her eyes were even rounder than usual, and they had an abnormal glow. She was so scared.

– You disappeared! Rosie yelled. Viola raised her eyebrows.

– But I’ve been behind you the whole time.

Rosie was still staring at her in shock. But then, her expression started to fade into confusion.

Viola waited.

– Yeah? I guess you have, then, Rosie said.

Viola nodded.

– I must have imagined it. It was so dark. But really, where would you have had time to disappear? We only walked up the stairs, Rosie said, though her voice was tight. But wasn’t it always?

– You said it, said Viola. She glanced around the third floor lounge. She could make out the closed doors. She had an idea that everything wasn’t right. Then her eyes stopped at Rosie.

– Where did your candle go?

Rosie was already walking towards the first door on the left. She turned and looked at Viola, her brow furrowed.

– What candle?

– Didn’t you have one?

Rosie stared.

– No.

Viola scratched her head. Then she shrugged.

– Right, I guess not, then.

She followed after Rosie, who opened the door.

Snow had backed herself into a corner. She was slamming on ice with her hands. She slammed and hit it, trying to get out. The ice didn’t give way.

Snow gave up. She let her hands fall. The ice was still dark around her.

Snow started laughing.

She had only made everything freeze deeper by continuing to run. She wasn’t stupid. She had noticed. She had built her trap herself, bit by bit.

Snow fell upon the ground. The ice grew and grew. It squeezed her. Pushed her down. It turned her into a corner. She disappeared.

Then the ice melted. She had taken a warm hand.

– Snow? Are you awake?

Viola was holding Snow’s hand and shaking her. Rosie was standing still, just looking. They had found Snow in the farthest corner of the third floor, curled up under an open window, behind curtains that moved in the breeze. Who knows how long she had sat there, too afraid to move in the dark. The house was like a labyrinth. Rosie was certain that Snow would catch a cold.

Snow was gaping at Viola like some startled deer. She seemed to be unable to speak or move. Had she gone into shock? Rosie didn’t know how to move herself, how to do anything for Snow. She could only watch. Her throat was aching, and her limbs heavy, and she felt she was locked up in herself. How could she help that?

Then Snow let Viola pull herself up. She leaned, almost fell, into her embrace. Viola sighed in relief and squeezed her tight. They rocked together slowly in the dim light. Rosie looked at the floor.

In the morning, Viola went out of the front door, and with her clothes on, too. There was a wardrobe in the living room now, for whatever reason. Actually, Viola had woken up in front of it. To her surprise, Snow had been sleeping no farther than the living room sofa.

Before Rosie had even found her way to the living room, Viola and Snow had opened the wardrobe and put on some warm clothes. Viola had found wine red corduroy pants in her size, and an oversized, but comfortable white sweater. Snow had pulled on the first skinny jeans she could find, and a dark green hoodie. She had left her tablecloth dress on, underneath it. She was still cold, it seemed, since she pulled the hood over her head and curled back on the sofa.

When Rosie appeared, she looked at them both, had an angrier expression than she usually did, and then she walked straight to the wardrobe. Maybe she would have wanted to take her pick first. Not that it mattered, the clothes Rosie picked wouldn’t have piqued Viola’s or Snow’s interest anyway. Rosie put on a pair of plaited tights, weird leg warmers with round tufts on them, and she managed to find a denim dress that matched. She also draped a huge black shawl around her shoulders. Only Rosie could manage to look formal in that outfit. Viola would not have known how to dress like that. Not that she wanted to. If Rosie hadn’t always been so angry, Viola probably would’ve noticed more often, that she was pretty and stylish.

It was much colder outside than yesterday. Viola’s breath turned into fog. She blew long and short breaths out while she crossed the yard with her watering pot. The grass was numb and crunched under her feet. A sense of worry made its way into Viola’s mind. She sped up towards the woods.

There was only some dew on the violet. Viola sighed in relief, and bend down to give it some water. She wondered what would happen to the flower, if the ground froze. Winter sounded like an improbable thought. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt like it didn’t belong here. It didn’t fit with the house. The violet should be able to grow in peace.

Viola got up and looked around. It was early, so the day might still grow warm. She had hope.

When Viola turned back to the house, she saw movement in the corner of her eye. Viola looked back into the woods. She saw the movement again. Something dark moved behind the trees. It moved like a breath and disappeared into the trees. Deep in the woods it was so dark that Viola couldn’t see where that something went. She also couldn’t think of one thing it could have been.

Viola glanced back a few times while she walked back to the house, but the sight didn’t return.

Rosie stood still under the birches. Her rose was behind her. Her watering pot had fallen and soaked the misty ground. The woods seemed to swirl. Rosie felt sick. She closed her eyes.

She regretted it at once, because her hearing became sharper. She heard more than just her own heavy breathing. The woods were alive, and it wasn’t because of squirrels, birds, or mise. Rosie didn’t know how to explain the voices that came out of nowhere, speeded past her ears. She wanted to dodge them, but she didn’t dare to move. She wanted to open her eyes but didn’t dare to do that either. She just stood there, still, numb. She knew in her bones that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

Rosie felt it: there was a storm around her. The trees didn’t move in the wind, and the air didn’t fill with leaves, but Rosie felt the storm spinning around her. It grew. She couldn’t make out anything about it. It was madness.

Rosie tried to muster up her courage. Her breathing grew faster. She drew her hands into fists. She opened her eyes and turned.

The woods were calm and clear. The small rose stood straight at Rosie’s feet. The trees were quiet, and sunlight touched the cold ground. Rosie’s eyes didn’t adjust. Her gazed moved around erratically. Her breath slowed down. She swallowed air. But the woods couldn’t fool her anymore.

– I know I’m not alone.

Rosie was almost surprised at the certainty of her own voice. How easily the words had slipped out in the end. She didn’t need to wait much longer, though the answer wasn’t what she wanted anyway.

Something was moving in the woods. Something dark. A figure.

Rosie could see it behind the trees. At first it was closer, then farther away. Then to her side. Her heart and breath raced. Tears burned behind her eyes. Rosie tried to control herself.

The figure’s presence was not only panic. It was poison. It twisted Rosie from the inside. It turned her upside down. It twisted her and crushed her and made her nothing.

Rosie tried to keep looking at the figure. It moved around her, though it felt like a hallucination. It couldn’t be were Rosie saw it. There was something else to it. But even so, it had caused Rosie to dance a circle around her rose. Once Rosie realized that, she stopped and turned away.

Rosie felt the figure had stopped too. Then she heard a voice.

– You’re never alone.

Snow stared at her tiny snowberry. She batted her eyelashes in bewilderment. The plant had grown so much in one night. She had thought it wouldn’t survive the cold. But now she was sure it had been a lot shorter last morning. She feared her memory was betraying her. Or, maybe she wished it. It would explain everything else. Snow was crazy, and that was all there was to it. No more reason to worry.

Snow sighed and watered her snowberry. Her hands shook. She had a hunch it was about something else than the cold morning. It had something to do with the night, but Snow didn’t remember much about it. Only feelings. She had been in trouble. She was certain the snowberry felt it, too.

Someone else must have saved it.

Snow thought that maybe she hadn’t really cared for the plant. But why hadn’t she? She was looking at it more carefully now. It was small and beautiful. The ground was cold, but Snow sat down for a while, just to look at her snowberry.

When Rosie entered the house, everything went pitch black. It was darker than ever before, that much she was sure of. It drew all the strength from her, and she fell on the floor, against the door she had just closed. This wasn’t ordinary darkness, and it wasn’t all her fault, like the storm. But it made her helpless.

Rosie sat with her arms around her knees. She was so tired. She didn’t want to fight this too. If her storm bled into this darkness, she wouldn’t be able to take it. She couldn’t take another night like the last one. Upstairs. She didn’t want to feel like that anymore.

But the darkness reached her just as easily there, against the door, as it would in the living room or the kitchen. Rosie lifted her head. She felt like the darkness had spread inside her through her nose and ears, numbed her senses, and turned solid. Maybe she had nothing else she could do than move.

Rosie got up, and she knew she was right. She spread her arms and felt the air in front of her. She understood she wouldn’t find the walls or the door frames anymore. There was nothing behind her. Or maybe everything was in their place, but Rosie couldn’t reach anything anymore. So, she let her arms fall, and she walked. She headed where she imagined the living room was.

Rosie’s storm blended into the darkness. She saw it moving around her still. It was black, but it swirled and turned and enveloped her. Her nose, her eyes and her ears were free. For the freedom, Rosie closed her eyes. Instinctively, she started looking for the cold.

Rosie walked, and searched. She tried to feel for ice, feel the smallest crack in the air. She picked a direction and tried to breathe it in. She turned and tried to feel it on her skin. She went everywhere and wished for the scent of frost. But she was lost.

Rosie stopped. She had no ice to follow. She had no cold to break up the dark. It was nowhere. It had disappeared, and she had just stood there and watched.

Rosie looked where the floor should have been. She saw red.

Among the storm and the darkness, there was a burn. It ricocheted everywhere. It painted over the darkness, and Rosie could see a way ahead. Just one, but it wasn’t emptiness, it wasn’t spaceless and timeless, so Rosie followed it. She knew she shouldn’t have. She knew she had held onto the ice, so this wouldn’t happen. But there was no more ice. No more white anger. Rosie was lost. Rosie walked ahead, and she couldn’t stop.

She might have wanted to, if she had been able to. But she followed the burn where it got stronger. Where it was getting bright. Where it was so hot that Rosie squinted her eyes and tried to swallow the dryness from her throat.

Then Rosie saw them at the centre of the burn. Everything around her was still dark, but in the reddest light, the first thing she saw, was Snow’s hand. It was at Viola’s back, her arm around Viola’s waist. Skin against skin. Their bare legs had tangled together. They moved against each other. Viola kissed Snow on the lips. Their eyes were closed.

Viola found herself alone in the darkness again, even though she hadn’t gone to the cellar. Slowly, she began to feel scared. She wanted to see. She wanted to know where she was. Nothing had ever been so dark. How had this happened? Viola didn’t understand.

Viola wanted to look, but not at the darkness. She wanted to turn her back to it. So, why did it follow her? Was it her fault?

Viola stood still. She’d stood there ever since she came inside, but she had no idea where she was. She had stepped in, and thought she’d wait for the others to come inside. And then, she hadn’t been sure if Snow might already be in the living room, so she’d tried to look for her, but she hadn’t been there. Rosie usually took longer than Snow, so Viola decided to look for Snow elsewhere, but, then it had become dark.

Viola felt nothing in the darkness. That was her problem. Or, maybe it was that she didn’t even want to feel. Viola swallowed. She shook the thought away, but it kept coming back. She didn’t want to know what was in the darkness.

Viola remained still.

Viola didn’t move.

Viola didn’t even want to bat an eyelash.

Viola knew, that the darkness would continue, if she didn’t move.

Viola took a step. She almost crashed into light. Her fear disappeared. There was a light in the darkness.

Rosie stood in front of her, holding a candle. Viola stared with wide eyes. Rosie wouldn’t look at her, but Viola’s eyes were glowing. The candlelight warmed her from head to toe. It warmed everything around her.

Viola looked at Rosie and smiled.

– How do you find a candle in a darkness like this? Viola asked.

Rosie still wouldn’t look at her, and there was no answer. As if she hadn’t even seen or heard Viola.

Then Rosie turned, and ran away. As fast as she had appeared.

Viola blinked and looked around. She was in the living room, and everything looked the same as it had before the darkness. The paintings that had the same expression as Rosie always did, and the big wardrobe, were all in their places. Viola turned around for a moment and tried to remember what exactly had happened. Then, her eyes stopped at the veranda, through the living room windows. Snow was sitting there, looking at the sky. Sunlight lit up her delicate face. She noticed Viola and waved at her cheerfully.

It looked warm outside.

Rosie ran out the door without looking back. It was light outside. It was warm. Sun was high. Rosie cried, and she didn’t care to wipe her tears away. She ran across the yard, towards the birch woods. She cried and ran and stopped only once she reached her little rose.

Rose looked at her flower, and let her breathing slow down. Only then did she lift her gaze to the woods.

– I’m here, Rosie said. She knew she would be heard. She would be heard anywhere. She didn’t even have to say it out loud. After all, this was all her.

Rosie stepped over her rose and faced the woods. She lifted her face and wiped her tears. It didn’t matter, but maybe that’s why she did it.

Rosie reached out her hand.

She didn’t need to wait. She didn’t need to see where it came from. She knew that it was always there. A hand of darkness grabbed her hand. Rosie squeezed back. She had given it the permission to look more human than it used to.

Rosie took her place beside the figure, and the storm didn’t return. She didn’t let go of the hand.

Rosie walked into the woods and disappeared.

Rosie had only gone to get the mail. There were a couple of ads and one bill. Sun shone comfortably, and Rosie turned her face towards the sky, smiling. She felt like taking her dressing gown off, but she knew she was prone to getting a cold in the spring. After enjoying the warmth for a moment, she went back inside. She skipped up the steps and opened the only door to the house.

Viola and Snow were in the kitchen. The toast grill was on, and the smell filled Rosie’s nostrils pleasantly. It was her favourite cheese. Her smile got brighter. It was a good morning.

Viola elbowed Snow. They were bickering about something. The laptop was open on the kitchen table. Both seemed to think they knew what they were doing, better than the other.

– Snow thinks you can get a bug from this video! Viola said and looked at Rosie, clearly to get her on her side. Rosie just shrugged.

– It’s true, Snow said and tried to pause the video. Viola snatched the mouse out of her hands. Snow was too short.

– Let’s see, shall we? Viola said.

– No!

But Snow had to admit defeat. Viola wasn’t going to give up the mouse.

Rosie went to check on the toast grill. The food looked perfect, so she gathered everything on a plate and took it to the table. Her friends looked distracted, so she decided to pour everyone coffee as well.

Snow sat on the chair with her arms crossed, and looked at Viola’s cat videos, but her expression got brighter the second Rosie put a mug of coffee in front of her. Viola almost chocked on her own, when the kittens on the video started to lick each other’s tails. She laughed loudly. Snow raised her eyebrows. Rosie smiled in amusement and sat beside the others.

Viola showed them another video, and soon everyone was laughing with tears in their eyes. Rosie was just wiping her eyes on the tablecloth, when something soft landed on her shoulders. She looked up and saw Viola. Upon her shoulders, Rosie found a blanket. She looked at Viola in surprise.

– You’re cold, right? Viola said. – You lifted your feet from the floor.

It was a bit chilly in the kitchen. Rosie had thought the coffee would warm her up. She looked at the blanket for a moment.

– Isn’t this Snow’s?

Viola lifted her eyebrows slightly.

– I thought it was yours.

Both turned to look at Snow, who was chewing on a toast and shook her head.

Rosie pulled the blanket tighter around herself. It warmed her from head to toe. She gave a laugh, and said:

– Huh. Funny, the things you forget.