Hinge (Flash Fiction)

The squeaky door hinge was the first warning that set off all occupants in the old wooden cabin. Mutterings, whispers and shufflings filled the air.

The sound of the rasping metal on the backdoor sent them all into a tizzy.

Well, everyone except Anabelle, who didn’t even pause as she
hurriedly stuffed her hands into mittens and awkwardly wound a fat scarf
’round her little neck.

“Mummy, c’mon, Daddy’s out there, he’s hurt!”

The grown-ups exchanged glances with the little girl of blue eyes and pink lips.

“I guess she’d know.” The old groundskeeper sighed, at last. “Not like I could pick out a frostman from a twitch.”

“Twatch.” The mother corrected and suppressed a shiver. “Twatch.” She reached over and tugged the scarf straight.

(c) Sara Harricharan

~Twatch is what they call the woodsmen in this snippet–folks who brave the ice and snow and usually wear white and light blue to blend with the surroundings. They fight frostmen, which are like the abominable snowman/Yeti.