It began on any ordinary day in December, but ended differently from any other. Only when the shadows were darkest was when it came out, and when night came, it disappeared into the darkness leaving no trace. It started on a day all kids look forward to, but after the incident, children only looked forward to any other day. It began the day school let out for Christmas.

The year was 1967. Buffalo was the coldest of cities in the times of darkness. Winter came quickly, and left slowly. Every child sat in their seats anticipating the moment of freedom, when the final bell would ring, and the cold of winter would fill their bones on the joyful walk home. Thoughts filled their heads of break with no work to burden them. But none of them had thoughts of what would actually happen. When the joyful moment came, the children all hurried out of their wooden desks to gather together their winter supplies. Cheerful chatter filled the one hall of the small school house. Amidst all of it was one small boy, who would change how they thought of the winter.

"How about we play some hockey?" Billy Hanson asked the fellow upper graders, the sun already setting on the five of them, including the boy. That one small boy who would change the winter break for everyone. His brother David was in the eighth grade, and as a dog had to follow its master, the boy had to follow his brother. The small boy's parents were both working to pay the bills in their home, so the small boy had to follow his brother around to his activities. As the older boys agreed, the small boy looked at his feet, only hoping to make it to his small home, the only place he felt comfort. The boy struggled with anxiety and at the hearth of the fireplace was the only place he felt safe. He would never experience the warmth of it on his small body again.

As the boys made their way down to the lake, the small boy stayed behind, sitting at the base of an old, barren tree. His brother noticed but didn't push for the boy to come any closer. He knew that once the boy was set on something, he didn't change his opinion. As the older boys hurried down onto the ice, the boy sat, unmoving. Everything changed when his hat blew from off of his small head.

As the boy sat, propped against his tree, a large gust of the cold New York wind blew past, shaking the bare limbs of the resting place of the boy, but more significantly blowing his small knit cap from his head. It took the boy a moment to notice, but as another gust blew past and iced his ears, he finally took notice of his unprotected head. Scrambling from his rest, he spotted the source of warmth in a pile of branches, come from a recently destroyed tree in yet another blizzard. The low sun in the sky cast long shadows across the ground as the boy trudged through the deep banks of snow to reach his hat. He finally reached the brush pile and reached out to snatch his cap. Yet another gust came, blowing the cap just out of his reach, and he had to climb over the pile to get to it.

Climbing that high took the breath out of his young lungs, and he sat, resting at the top of the pile. It was only when he looked up that he noticed it. A shadow. Not like any other shadows, but the shadow of a man. A tall, slim man, with a very tall top hat. One arm hung from his side, but the other was empty. The small boy sat, staring at it, thinking it something of his imagination, when it took a step. The jerky, limp continued toward the small boy. The boy sat petrified in fear, the dark form continuing toward him unwavering in the large gust of wind. Other shadows shifted and shrank, but the one of the man stayed constant, slowly limping closer. Coming to his senses, the boy started making his way down the other side of the large pile. A branch snagged his winter coat, the only one he had, and he struggled with it, panicking and trying to yank it free. Sharp breaths came from the boy's mouth as the shadow approached him. Closer and closer and closer. Until the boy was enveloped by the sheet of darkness, high pitched screams echoing from his vocal chords as his air was cut off. Until he couldn't scream any more, and the shadow left, the boy's limp body tumbling down the pile, nothing left but the small, raw bones, skin tendon and skin still coating them.

At the bottom of the pile, at the bottom of the hill, the boys playing hockey paused, hearing a scream. David, fearing for his brother, frantically looking for his younger brother. The tree that he had sat at was empty. As he still looked on, a small, knit cap drifted down the hill, carried by the wind, and landed at his tightly tied skates.