Look out! Look out!
Jack Frost is about!
He’s after our fingers and toes…
I mean, that’s a daft thing to tell a small child, isn’t it? What’s the difference between fingers and toes and, say, an arm or a leg. Or a head? Or maybe a liver?
As I drove into town this morning, after scraping the windscreen once again, and I saw how white everything was with the heavy frost, I realised how we so often associate horror with heat. The fires of Hell, for example. Inferno. I did in Diavolino, raising the temperature in more ways than one. But the cold can be a vehicle for evil and horror just as easily, as the quote above from C. E. Pike’s poem shows.
Can you think of any other instances of cold/winter horror stories, poems, rhymes or even films? I’ll give you another to make you shiver. A film this time – THAW:
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