Mother Of The Cold – A Creepypasta Tale From 2020TOO

…The glass of the window begins to crystallize as the cold winds freeze everything it touches in place.

Cashion turns with trembling lips and allows his gaze to fall off to the side momentarily, before bringing it back to Becky. “T-T-The worst c-c-chill t-t-this town h-h-has seen in a-a-a hundred a-and t-t-thirty years?” he stammers.

“O-O-One hundred a-a-and t-t-t-thirty-eight, t-t-to be p-p-precise,” she quips back through fevered tongue.

“You are both wrong,” Danielle says proudly as she pushes the doors open and strides into the room while the doors shatter into millions of pieces. “It has been one hundred and forty-seven years to this very day since I last set foot in this wretched town. Fifty-three-thousand, six-hundred and ninety-one long days ago, but who’s counting?” she asks with a jovial laugh, before her face screw up with wretched anger, and she leans in close to Becky. “I AM, THAT’S WHO’S COUNTING!” she bellows as she spins around and stares down towards the petrified Cashion, pointing a boney finger towards the young boy, while licking the saliva from her blue lips with feverish delight. “Y-Y-You are his, a-a-aren’t you? Y-Y-You are a Doogan?”

“N-N-N-No, I-I-I, I’m not a-a-a D-D-Doogan, b-b-but she is! S-S-S-SHE’S A-A-A, A DOOGAN!” he stammers, as he thrusts a trembling finger towards Becky.

Danielle smiles wryly and nods her head, as she casts a wayward glance over to Becky, before turning it back to Cashion. “That she may be boy, that she may be. But you my sweet boy,” she purrs as she runs a cold finger along the side of his cheek. “You are a pure Doogan as the night is long.” she sings as she thrusts her hand into his chest and rips his still beating heart up for his dying eyes to see….

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