A Ring of Frost on the Mantel
A terse conversation about a past Christmas hints at a family secret and a missing person, driving a teen protagonist to uncover a cryptic clue within the dusty, forgotten corners of an old family home.
INT. ANCESTRAL HOME - LIVING ROOM - MORNING
The room sags with the weight of forgotten celebrations. Pale, weak light filters through a smudged windowpane, illuminating dancing dust motes. The air is thick, smelling of damp earth and decay.
LEO (20s), stands with his hands shoved in the pockets of a worn hoodie. He faces his AUNT (70s), a woman with sharp angles to her face, brittle as old parchment.
AUNT
(voice thin)
You saw what you wanted to see.
Leo watches her, a knot tightening in his stomach. A fly buzzes sluggishly against the glass, a tiny, insistent thrum.
LEO
(desperate)
That’s not true. I heard it. You were there. We all were.
The Aunt's gaze flickers to the empty fireplace, then back to him. Her gnarled fingers pick at a loose thread on her sweater, a small, constant act of maintenance.
AUNT
Childhood memories. They twist, don’t they? Become something… more dramatic than they were.
LEO
I was thirteen, Aunt. Not five. I remember. The arguments. The quiet. The way she just… wasn’t there the next morning.
A blush of frustration crawls up his neck. He runs a hand roughly through his hair.
AUNT
(a long, weary sigh)
Look, what happened… it was a long time ago. People move on. You should too.
LEO
(shaking his head)
No one just *moves on* from that. Not when no one knows where she went. Or why.
AUNT
(voice rising)
We told the police everything. They found nothing. No foul play. She just… left.
She walks to the window, pulling back a thin, moth-eaten curtain. She stares out at the damp lawn, her back to him. A wall, silent and unyielding. Leo watches her sharp profile.
LEO
(flat)
I’m going upstairs.
He turns and exits without waiting for a response. He hears his Aunt sigh again, a sound of pure irritation.
INT. STAIRCASE - CONTINUOUS
Leo climbs the grand, creaking staircase. He runs a hand along the smooth, cold banister.
INT. GUEST ROOM - CONTINUOUS
A tomb. The room is crammed with forgotten furniture, boxes of old records, faded photo albums. The air is stale, thick with the scent of mildew and decaying paper.
Leo moves carefully, brushing aside cobwebs. He approaches an old bed, piled high with blankets and ancient winter coats.
He begins to methodically remove them, one by one. Each item is heavy with dust and neglect.
He pulls off the final coat, revealing the bare mattress.
He looks closer. A faint, precise ring-like indentation is pressed into the fabric.
He runs his fingers over it, then begins to search the bed frame, running his hand under the slats.
His fingers brush against something cold. Metallic.
He pulls it out. A small, tarnished silver EARRING. Cheap, like something from a Christmas cracker. It is completely out of place.
A shiver runs down his spine. He slips the earring into his pocket. The cold metal presses against his thigh. His expression hardens.
INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER
Leo descends the stairs, his steps now deliberate.
His Aunt is still by the window, staring out at a patch of daffodils pushing through the dark soil.
He stops a few feet behind her. Clears his throat.
She turns, her expression unreadable.
LEO
(voice steady)
Aunt. Do you remember anything about that Christmas… anyone else who was staying, or who might have dropped by unexpectedly?
He watches her face, searching for a flicker, a sign.
She just stares back, her lips a thin, resolute line. The battle has just begun.
The room sags with the weight of forgotten celebrations. Pale, weak light filters through a smudged windowpane, illuminating dancing dust motes. The air is thick, smelling of damp earth and decay.
LEO (20s), stands with his hands shoved in the pockets of a worn hoodie. He faces his AUNT (70s), a woman with sharp angles to her face, brittle as old parchment.
AUNT
(voice thin)
You saw what you wanted to see.
Leo watches her, a knot tightening in his stomach. A fly buzzes sluggishly against the glass, a tiny, insistent thrum.
LEO
(desperate)
That’s not true. I heard it. You were there. We all were.
The Aunt's gaze flickers to the empty fireplace, then back to him. Her gnarled fingers pick at a loose thread on her sweater, a small, constant act of maintenance.
AUNT
Childhood memories. They twist, don’t they? Become something… more dramatic than they were.
LEO
I was thirteen, Aunt. Not five. I remember. The arguments. The quiet. The way she just… wasn’t there the next morning.
A blush of frustration crawls up his neck. He runs a hand roughly through his hair.
AUNT
(a long, weary sigh)
Look, what happened… it was a long time ago. People move on. You should too.
LEO
(shaking his head)
No one just *moves on* from that. Not when no one knows where she went. Or why.
AUNT
(voice rising)
We told the police everything. They found nothing. No foul play. She just… left.
She walks to the window, pulling back a thin, moth-eaten curtain. She stares out at the damp lawn, her back to him. A wall, silent and unyielding. Leo watches her sharp profile.
LEO
(flat)
I’m going upstairs.
He turns and exits without waiting for a response. He hears his Aunt sigh again, a sound of pure irritation.
INT. STAIRCASE - CONTINUOUS
Leo climbs the grand, creaking staircase. He runs a hand along the smooth, cold banister.
INT. GUEST ROOM - CONTINUOUS
A tomb. The room is crammed with forgotten furniture, boxes of old records, faded photo albums. The air is stale, thick with the scent of mildew and decaying paper.
Leo moves carefully, brushing aside cobwebs. He approaches an old bed, piled high with blankets and ancient winter coats.
He begins to methodically remove them, one by one. Each item is heavy with dust and neglect.
He pulls off the final coat, revealing the bare mattress.
He looks closer. A faint, precise ring-like indentation is pressed into the fabric.
He runs his fingers over it, then begins to search the bed frame, running his hand under the slats.
His fingers brush against something cold. Metallic.
He pulls it out. A small, tarnished silver EARRING. Cheap, like something from a Christmas cracker. It is completely out of place.
A shiver runs down his spine. He slips the earring into his pocket. The cold metal presses against his thigh. His expression hardens.
INT. LIVING ROOM - LATER
Leo descends the stairs, his steps now deliberate.
His Aunt is still by the window, staring out at a patch of daffodils pushing through the dark soil.
He stops a few feet behind her. Clears his throat.
She turns, her expression unreadable.
LEO
(voice steady)
Aunt. Do you remember anything about that Christmas… anyone else who was staying, or who might have dropped by unexpectedly?
He watches her face, searching for a flicker, a sign.
She just stares back, her lips a thin, resolute line. The battle has just begun.