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Winter was my favourite season, I loved it, it always held so much joy for me. My favourite things always came when winter did, making snowmen with my father, baking my birthday cake with my mother, and dancing around the living room with my grandpa while he drank his third glass of gin and tonic. I loved watching the snowflakes fall from the sky as I made snow angels in the yard, wondering how many of them had to fall to make layers upon layers of snow during winter. I especially remember being so excited for my ninth birthday that I hadn’t slept that night, my mom scolded me for it, but I didn’t mind, it was my birthday and I was almost an adult now.
If only I had known.
Similarly to any of my previous birthdays, my parents had me help around the house before I could open my present. Set up the banners, blow the balloons, and do whatever my grandpa barked at me to do. Even if my grandfather was harsh, I didn’t mind it, my dad told me that he was even worse when he was my age.
When my mom asked me to get the cake from the kitchen, I remember hearing something from the window, like a little pebble hitting it or something of the sort. I looked over and saw a man standing there, wearing a suit and a white rabbit mask. I loved rabbits, but it was so silly, what kind of person would stand outside in the middle of winter with a rabbit mask on? Especially without a good coat or a hat. I laughed, the man didn’t.
My birthday went on as usual, I brought the cake and this year, I even got to cut it myself. I felt so proud of myself, it was a small thing but it made me feel grown up. I served my parents first and my dad had found a record needle in his slice of cake. It was weird, I have no idea how it had gotten in there since my mom and I were usually great bakers. I guess this year we weren’t so lucky. I then received my annual letters from someone named Mr. Owl and Harvey, my parents’ friends, I think. I never met them before, but I appreciated their birthday letters, even if I didn’t understand what Mr. Owl meant in his.
I wish I still didn’t understand to this day.
After quickly eating my slice of cake, my parents finally let me open my present. I was so excited, I couldn’t wait to see what they had gotten me this year. And I remember that it was a… My present… After opening it, I remember my family singing happy birthday to me, it was one of my favourite parts of my birthday, they all seemed proud to see me grow up. Someone rang the doorbell. Once, twice, thrice. The singing was cut short, and I was upset, but as my mother said, “It could be more guests.”
The doorbell rang again. Once, twice, thrice. I hurried since I didn’t want to leave this impatient guest waiting outside in the cold. So I went to open the door.
I didn’t have time to put my hand on the handle before the person started banging on the door, or hitting something against it, breaking the door piece by piece. Once, twice, thrice. There stood the man in the rabbit mask from earlier, was he here to see me, was he Harvey? Or was he a magician my mom had hired? I quickly learned that I was wrong.
The last thing I heard was my mother crying out my name.
“Dale!”
After that… I don’t remember. The world is dark.
Ever since then, I’ve despised winter. I’ve hated the cold and I’ve hated the snow. It reminded me of that day, and that day had such a strong grip on me, I couldn’t even manage to look out the window, terrified that the man with the rabbit mask would be standing there, waiting for me. To make me it’s next victim.
I lost everything on that day, and every birthday, it replayed in my mind clear as day. It was a neverending nightmare each year. And one year, the memory was absolutely agonizing.
My mind had taken me back to that day, not through visions, but physically. I could properly look and walk around, I could hold things and move them. I looked down to see my thirty-three-year-old self, but when I looked at my parents, all they saw was nine-year-old me. The parents that looked so proud to see their son grow. I couldn’t cry, my memories wouldn’t let me. I couldn’t warn them either, warn them about the man in the mask. I would’ve sounded crazy, a child, telling his family that they were going to be killed on the day of his birth. I couldn’t do anything but let the minutes pass.
I hung up the banners, prepared the balloons, followed my grandpa’s orders. I went to get the cake and heard that same ‘tok’ from years ago. I knew that if I had control over myself, I wouldn’t be able bring myself to look out the window, look at the man, the one who’d be at my door in approximately half an hour. But I looked, not because I wanted to, but because of the memory, it took control of me and made me look at him. Stare into his soulless eyes that screamed of nothing but harm. I did not laugh, the man did not laugh.
I grabbed the cake and set it on the table, served my family and the needle was found by my father once again. I scarfed down my slice of cake and opened my letters. This time, I understood what Mr. Owl had meant by ‘darkest day of my life.’ He was right, this day had absolutely ruined me.
I opened my gift, I can’t remember what it was. Then the singing had started and my blood ran cold. I could count down the seconds before the doorbell rang from how many times this memory had replayed in my head. Once, twice, thrice. I couldn’t stop myself from going over to the door, getting closer to him . I desperately tried to stop myself, the memory played out clear as day, it was strong, I couldn’t stop myself.
I had to watch as he broke down the door, I had to stare into his soulless eyes. He gave me a look like he knew that I knew what was going to happen. That he could see past the nine-year-old child and look into the eyes of the man he had ruined. He did not let that bother him, the man with the rabbit mask raised his gun and then…
And then I woke up. I- I sat up or at least tried to. The room was dark, I could barely see anything. Although I did see three strange silhouettes, they looked to be about the size of a human, but they did not look human. My imagination must’ve been playing tricks on my again, I felt so… Drowsy, nauseous even.
“That is enough for now, Mr. Vandermeer. We have done more than enough progress for today.” A voice spoke. Or squawked? I wasn’t quite sure. I wasn’t quite sure of anything actually, was this a dream? Was I real?
“...Where am I?” I heard myself barely respond.
“In a place where you can balance the substance of your past lives, where you can empty your mind. Dwell on the past and the future.” Another voice responded, almost prepared for that question. The voice sounded familiar, but again, my mind was not in the right place. It was empty.
“...What?”
“Harvey will now take you back to your home. We hope to see you again very soon, Mr. Vandermeer. It is a pleasure working with you.” That same voice added.
I felt my arm be grabbed by Harvey and felt myself stand up. I did not have any control over my body, I felt weak, I only felt, none of this felt real, I did not feel real. I was grateful to have Harvey holding me up as I felt myself slowly lean onto him more and more. Harvey, that sounded familiar. We walked together, he guided me throughout the dark room. I did not know where we were going and I didn’t want to know. My eyes slowly shut and my whole body felt heavier and heavier. Then.
I woke up in a cold sweat. In my own bed. I don’t recall what happened during the day, or in the past few hours. I didn’t know why I felt so light and heavy at the same time, or why I was still in my work clothes. I should stop going to that theatre.