Disclaimer: I don't own Until Dawn.
these are the things that did not happen
"Are you sure, Hannah?" Beth asks.
Sunlight streams in through the window of the tattoo parlour and the noise of the morning rush hour traffic is distantly audible. Hannah shifts uncomfortably in the chair but her expression is resolute. "Yep. I'm getting this tattoo, no matter what. I don't care what Mom and Dad will think."
"You might change your mind when we get home tonight," Beth says. Her tone is teasing more than anything; she'll support her twin, even if Hannah's maybe not getting a tattoo for the right reason. "Anyway, have you decided?"
"Decided?" Hannah asks, puzzled.
"On the colour of your butterfly," Beth clarifies. "Last time I asked, y'know, like half an hour ago, you didn't know if you wanted it to be black or white."
"Oh," Hannah hesitates, "I think I've decided on –"
The world slows to a crawl.
Sunlight gleams, thick and slow like spilled honey.
One –
Little –
Choice –
"White."
The smallest decision can dramatically change the future.
xxx
These are the things that happen:
Josh and Chris do not engage in a drink-until-you-pass-out contest.
When Hannah runs down the stairs and out into a snowstorm, the boys follow immediately. They catch up to her, not too far from the lodge. Josh is furious – but not as furious as Beth. They make it back to the house, clumsy with cold and alcohol, to find her verbally tearing strips off Mike, Jess and Emily. Amidst the unfolding human drama, in the bright and noisy lodge, no one sees the brilliant bloom of fire in the distance, or hears the echoing scream of an ancient, dying wendigo.
A butterfly's wing twitches.
These are the things that happen:
When Hannah falls, her foot is what slips through the gap in the wooden floor, not Beth's phone.
Beth runs back for her twin but cannot free her trapped foot. The sisters freeze in terror as the monstrous, spindly nightmare of a creature lands in front of them. It jerks its head in an unsettling, jittery movement and lets out a horrific shriek – but the girls don't move, too scared to even twitch. It darts away. Long moments pass before the twins can breathe again.
They make it back to the lodge, half-dead from fright and hypothermia, into the warmth and the light, and the loud clamour of concerned voices. Hannah doesn't even care when Mike tentatively approaches her, although Sam chases him away with a hiss, furious at his audacity.
Hannah's hand finds Beth's and the two sisters hold onto each other tightly, like the sole survivors of some terrible shipwreck.
It is the last time they ever go back to the mountain.
A butterfly's wing twitches.
These are the things that happen:
When Hannah backs away and slips off the edge of the cliff, she is not holding her sister's hand.
Beth screams Hannah's name and throws herself down at the edge, forgetting the monster stalking them through the snow. She reaches down, desperately trying to grab for her twin's free hand.
A great burst of fire fills the clearing behind her and a wave of heat buffets her back; she hears what sounds like a man's shout. But all that is secondary to Hannah's weakening grip on the tree root and Beth's increasingly desperate attempts to pull up her sister, her feet sliding and finding no purchase on the snowy ground –
A presence appears at her side and Beth almost shies away before she realises it's human; a man in a bulky green overcoat, with a bizarre assortment of metal canisters strapped to his back. He grabs Hannah's other arm and together they haul the older twin up to safety.
He escorts them back to the lodge, lecturing them gruffly about the dangers of these woods and the wendigo. Beth listens with one ear, the other half of her attention firmly on her sister, who is shaking with cold and fear and adrenaline.
She still locks and bars all the doors and windows when they get back inside the lodge, much to the bemusement of the others, and doesn't let them leave for the cable car station until the sun is well over the horizon.
xxx
"Are you sure, Hannah?" Beth asks.
Hannah blinks, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu wash over her. Then the moment is gone and she shrugs. "Yep. I'm getting this tattoo, no matter what. I don't care what Mom and Dad will think."
Her sister asks her what colour she's decided on for her butterfly tattoo, and the word white is hovering on the tip of her tongue, when a different word entirely slips out. "Black," she says, a little hesitantly, wondering why she feels odd. Probably last minute jitters. "Black, I think."
The smallest decision can dramatically change the future –
Your story is one of many possibilities –
These are the things that did not happen.
A/N: Oh dear. This was supposed to a hopeful AUish what-could-have-been. It ended up with a far less happy tone.
Eh, I had fun, I guess. xD Thanks for reading; if you liked it, please let me know what you think. :)