by The Awethors
“Since you have a present for me, I have a present for you,” she says. She takes my hand and leads me upstairs. I can’t imagine what she would possibly have for me. I just hope we can return for the cake—I certainly paid enough for it.
Kumi walks across the alley and touches the wall. There’s nothing there that I can see, just a mural over red brick. But when she touches it, it glows around her, and a section of the wall disappears. Light beams out from it, so I can’t see what lies on the other side. No one else sees it, except me and her.
“You are my Christmas date,” she says. She holds out a hand.
I take her hand and follow her through the light. I’ll celebrate Christmas with someone after all.
The Naughty List
Joe Compton
“Lady and Gentle-elves if I could have your attention for just one moment please.”
The music abruptly stopped. All the humming and hawing, loud pitch hammer pings, and overall chaos of a dozen or so Elves working away in Santa’s Workshop suddenly faded into an almost horrific silence. A couple dozen or so humans, dressed in all black from head to toe including black ski masks, combat armor, and wielding hunting rifles, moved stealthily and clinically across the workshop floor. The sharp red streams of the laser targeting from each rifle finding an individual elf to point directly in on their heads or chests.
“I implore you not to make any sudden movements or try to be a hero here. It is not you we have come for or intend to hurt, but if you feel so inclined to be stupid, well then you will pay for that insolence. I assure you.”
All the elves stood looking to one another, shaking from head to toe, mouths gaped open, and lips quivering. As these men stepped in on them, a smaller entity emerged atop the golden perch, a walkway that ascends above the workshop housed by a thick, golden, glistening metal rail. This entity was dressed just as the men were, in all black complete with the ski mask and combat armor, but only wielding a pistol, not a rifle. As this entity descended from the perch onto a visible open platform a couple steps above the workshop floor, it became very clear to all the elves, this was one of their own.
As surely as that revelation came, so did the unveiling. This entity reached up behind its head and pulled away the ski mask.
“Marty?”
All the elves turned in the direction of the voice that revealed the masked elf.
“That’s right Scout. It’s me.”
Scout cautiously stepped forward, being very deliberate in her movements so she did not look threatening.
“What are you doing, you were one of Santa favorites?”
Scout was a young lady elf. Long blonde locks sprouting out from her scalp like branches on a tree, decked in a bright red knitted Christmas sweater and a long, cascading, green velvet skirt that covered her lower half down to the top of her work boots. Her fingers were nicely manicured. Her nails painted, one hand’s fingers dark green, the other bright red (the colors of Christmas).
“That’s far enough my dear.”
Marty raised his pistol and took aim at Scout. She did not hesitate and took one step forward before all the laser scopes shifted focus and pointed in on her. A collective gasp echoed through the workshop like a stiff cold breeze.
“What’s this about Marty?”
Scout held out her hands and remained still. Marty lowered his weapon and gazed into Scout’s warm tear filled eyes. Marty took a deep breath. Then he resumed aiming back in on her, while the lasers went back to pointing onto the rest of the crowd.
“I have come for the book, Scout.”
“You think he’s really is going to give it...to you, then the legend is true. YOU HAVE GONE MAD.”
Scout closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing that her soft and gentle approach had been all but ruined by that stern, random outburst coming from the peanut gallery.
“YOU ALL SHUT UP!!! SHUT UP NOW!! We are done talking. You two, by the door. Go get his fat ass up and bring him here.”
Two of the masked men quickly rushed out through the door. As the doors swung shut, Marty shuffled a couple steps over so that he was looking around Scout and directly at the gathered group behind her.
“Now the next pointed ear motherfucker that spouts off, gets an early Christmas gift, a few fucking holes in their chest and forehead!”
Suddenly silence hushed into the room. Moments later the doors whisked open and Santa Claus was pushed through it. His hair looking as if he was just awoke, puffed out and everywhere. He was not in uniform, instead a white cotton t-shirt and his long johns.
A disoriented Santa upon surveying the situation, quickly gathered himself and showed a terrifying concern. Then he focused in on one thing.
“Marty?”
Marty smiled wickedly as he pranced down each step of the stairs in front of him till he too was on the workshop floor, holding out his arms with a smug smirk ripping across his face. Right smack dab in the middle of the room, in front of the whole workshop crew, for Santa to feast his eyes upon.
“That’s right boss. It is me. Surprised?”
“How did you get past Comet, Dasher, the others?”
“Please! Same ole Jolly Saint Nick, always assuming he is better than everyone else. HOW DO YOU THINK I GOT PAST THEM OLD MAN? HAVE YOU TAKEN A LOOK AROUND! I have the best armed force in the North Pole with me here. We are about to wipe out Santa’s workshop if I don’t get what I came for.”
“You really think this is the way to do this?”
“Oh gee, no Santa. I thought I would come skipping and caroling into the place that FUCKING FIRED AND BANISHED ME with a tray of milk and cookies and...oh pretty please can I have the list?”
“You know I will never give that to you and you know what happens if you kill us.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, a new Santa will be sought and he will appoint new helpers, blah, blah, blah...”
With that Marty lifted his pistol and walked and aimed in toward Santa.
“Well maybe Santa, with you gone the powers that be might seek council with the last surviving elf. It’s not like they know I was banished. Then I can bring in a sucker, someone I can curry quick favor with and ooh, look at that, head elf Marty is born.”
“You are a disgrace!”
Marty spun around toward the voice that shouted out and saw Scout stepping forward toward him. Again all the lasers drew back onto her.
Marty chuckled and turned back to Santa, his gun now inches from his chin pointed in, ready to fire.
“Next step kills her and everyone in here. Give me the Naughty and Nice List and I will be on my way. It’s not like you can’t remember it and recreate it.”
“That’s not my concern Marty. It’s what you intend to do with the list.”
“Awe yes. I think we both know the answer to that. Children of the world have been judged long enough. Just as you judged me with your beady eyes and jolly demeanor as if it was all a sick joke to you. Telling all the kids of the world who you deem worthy of your love. Well tonight the Naughty strike back, armed to the teeth with the knowledge that their beloved Santa Claus was never going to love them like he did all the other fucking brats of the world. All because of what? The precocious nature one might exhibit as a youngling?”
“There has to balance, you know that. Give all the kids of the world something better to be, appeal to the better nature of their beings.”
“Bullshit! They are kids...being kids. Who gave you the right to tell them they will never be more than naughty.”
“This isn’t about them Marty, is it?”
“Oh you think I am just being bitter because you PASSED ME OVER, time and time again? No, you know I have always had these ideals. I have always sought these changes. Your code and your ‘this is the way it has been’ bullshit needs to end. Since you won’t listen to reason you gave me no other choice. Now give me the fucking book or say goodbye to the thing you love the most...being Santa.”
Santa stood his ground, testing Marty�
�s ticking time bomb of patience. Just as Marty cocked the hammer back and pushed his finger into the trigger well, a flash and sudden whisk of cold air rushed through the doorway. A rush of 30 or so kids, decked out in punk rock attire with hunting knifes and bow and arrows pointed in on the masked men and Marty. One of the older kids came in behind Marty and thrusted a sharp blade up against his throat.
“Drop the gun elf.”
“This is not how kids on the nice list should behave.”
The kid leaned in and whispered into Marty’s ear.
“Who said we were on the nice list?”
“Let me finish my business here and there will be no lists.”
“Sorry the devil, or in this case, the Santa you know is better than the one you don’t.”
Marty exhaled in frustration and lowered his gun. A sudden loud cheer from the elves vibrated throughout the workshop as Marty and his goons were whisked out the door.
Seven Years Bad Luck
Rocky Rochford
Ever since that day, it’s always there, right on the tip of the tongue and the first thing people always ask me:
“How did you come by such a scar?”
Well what a tale that is.
One of loss.
Pain.
And a never ending nightmare.
A tale that starts with a girl and ends with me holding a shard of bloodied glass.
It was Christmas Eve, a day I hate almost as much as Christmas. I’ve always hated the Christmas holidays, everything about it. It’s just one of those things, like why the sky is blue, why the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. There are reasons for all these things, just not everyone understands them, but don’t worry, very soon you will understand just one of the many reasons I hate Christmas as much as I do.
Like I said, it was Christmas Eve and to my own surprise I was spending it in a manner I never would have expected: I was spending it with the girl I loved and her infant child at her parents’ house.
Don’t for one second start thinking we were both children; we were eighteen, so still kids, but legal adult kids.
Due to her parents’ hatred of me, of our relationship, we were in her room, just Maddie, Blake, and me. Her parents didn’t know I was there because if they did, they would have surely thrown me out, but then again it was Christmas, so if they did know, they were actually being nice for once.
It’s not Christmas without a tree, and because we were in an upstairs bedroom, away from the living room and the magnificent tree her father was able to grab this year, I decided we should have our own tree. I went to a lot and got the best thing I could get for close to no money as I was potless and something small, small and light enough to be strapped to my back as I climbed up the side of her home.
The three of us sat round the tree, well it was more a plant, but we were happy, you know. Blake was bouncing on my lap; he wasn’t mine, but I was the only dad the kid knew. I was there the day he was born, beside his mother, my girlfriend of a couple of months, doing what she asked of me.
He may not have been biologically mine, but it really didn’t matter to me.
I loved him like he was, and I loved his mother even more.
Her eyes met mine as we sat side by side, and I couldn’t help but notice the distance there. She was happier than I’d ever seen her, but there was something false about her smile and that glint in her eye had me worried.
Worried but not enough to push the subject.
Something dark was haunting her and in time I would know what it was, the very next day, in fact. But like an idiot, I was too scared or too foolish to go into it and now it haunts me that I didn’t.
“You’re so good with me.” She purred in my ear.
“I’ve had lots of practice.” I chimed back.
She laughed, but it sounded empty.
“You know we’re missing the fire, right?”
“Then let’s not miss out on it any further.”
This bit but gets a little sad. I pulled out a couple of candles and lit them up. “There, that’s all the fire we need.”
“It’s perfect, just like our family.”
I looked to her, to Blake, the “tree” and our “fire.” Our family was perfect, my little family, and tomorrow I intended to make it a real one.
It wasn’t easy, but I managed to get enough money together for the perfect present, a ring, because on Christmas morning, I wanted to slip into her room, gently nudge her awake, and ask her to marry me. Her parents would never give me permission; I already knew that, hence the reason I would never ask them.
“I’ve been thinking,” I began to say. “About tomorrow…”
“You don’t have to say anything. I know you hate Christmas. I know your reasons; I may not understand them all, but I know them. You don’t have to come here tomorrow. I know I said I really wanted you here for Christmas dinner, but it’s okay if you don’t want to.”
The words that followed took a while to form but I managed to speak them. “No, I do. I do want to. I’ll be here.”
That smile made a return, the “I’m so happy but harbouring a dark secret” smile, but I shrugged it off and allowed myself to be overcome by her warm embrace and loving kiss. I just wanted to stay in that moment, but I knew time was ticking on and Blake’s bed time was quickly approaching, which means it would be time for me to leave.
Instead, we moved our kiss to her bed, after I put Blake into his. “Grab an early one mate, you deserve it. Big day tomorrow.”
We laid in each other’s arms, kissing the night away, and sure we could have done the typical thing of stripping the other one’s clothes off, kissing each other’s bodies and laying together as lovers, but neither one of us felt like that.
We didn’t want to make a noise and cause her parents to come up.
And we didn’t want to ruin that special moment,
A moment of belonging.
A moment of being a united family.
We ceased the kissing and swapped it for spooning, and Blake was struggling to nod off, so Maddie scooped him out of his crib and put him between us and we just laid there, eyes on each other, playing with Blake’s tiny fingers and toes as the candle burned down.
It was paradise and then my phone vibrated.
My silent alarm.
It was time to go.
She knew straight away and unlike every other time, she didn’t even try to fight it, to try and get me to stay for just a little longer. It was almost as if she couldn’t wait to see me go. Hanging from the window, she kissed me one last time before she told me she loved me and I said the same back to her.
She closed the window and I dropped below, all ready to disappear into the night and go to the apartment I begrudgingly called home.
Come morning and it was already getting on, ten o’clock was just minutes away. It was the time I said I’d go over to the house, but there was no way I could go over in the dirty manner I was in. I got cleaned up, looked presentable, and grabbed the bag of presents I got for Maddie’s brother and sister. They were hand-made, so I really hoped they would like them.
The entire walk to her parents place, I was actually wearing a smile and thinking the words “Maybe it won’t be such a bad Christmas at all.” But then I arrived and noticed neither of her parents’ cars were parked out front.
The garage was open.
As was the front door.
I had a very bad feeling.
A feeling that told me not to go in, but I did.
The place was deserted.
No belongings.
No people.
No Maddie and Blake.
Her entire family…
…just gone.
On a small table by the foot of the stairs was a piece of paper with my name on it. I opened it up and out fell a SIM card.
Her SIM card.
Everything suddenly made sense, why she was the way she was for all of last night.
She was saying goodbye…
…without saying goodbye.
I dropped the piece of paper, feeling betrayed, feeling heartbroken, and feeling a terrible rage. A mirror hung to my right and I walked over to it; I took one look at my broken reflection and growled before a growl turned to a deafening roar and the mirror exploded into my face.
With all the cracks, it was always going to happen.
I was so angry, I didn’t feel any pain, not even when I pulled out the shard of glass that embedded itself beneath my eye and has scarred most of my cheek.
And now you know how I came by my gory beloved scar and the tale that wove it.
So why don’t you do us both a favor and now ask me how I got the ones on my wrists?
Merry fucking Christmas!
An Afterword
This compilation is part of the “Dark” December Awethology. The “Light” Awethology, featuring stories suitable for children, young adults, and also some light hearted and moving stories for grownups. You can find the December Awethology Light Volume available for download from most good retailers now. You can also find work from all of our Awethors, information about our group and other publications here:
www.awethors.com
Biographies
Jack Croxall
Originally trained as an environmental scientist, Jack Croxall soon discovered a life in the lab wasn't for him. He started writing for student publications at university and writing quickly became his passion. He's now an award-winning author toiling away as a science/literature journalist in between working on his books.
www.jackcroxall.co.uk
Jennifer Deese
Jennifer Deese currently in resides in N.E. Pennsylvania, and was raised in Delaware. She is a Mom, a Step Mom, an Aunt, and a Nana. Miss Deese is currently working in book 2 in a fantasy series she is writing. The Orchid Keeper, book one of that series was her debut book. Miss Deese writes fantasy and horror/thriller. Jingle Jars has the unexpected twists/endings that Deese hopes to someday be known for. As a lover of reading and writing she has found her niche in the world and thanks her Mother for fostering a great love of books at a very young age.