Hello, dear Reader!
As of late I’ve been working on something new- I’m more or less just sitting on Channillo.com, which is working, I am making money, but not much. That said, while I am updating the Channillo.com page, I’m also hard at work at a new pile of delicious fiction, an idea that’s been holding my fascination for awhile, but never quite got down to until recently.
Here’s an excerpt. Perhaps you can take a guess what it’s about:
(Celia grasps her vampire-hunting kit, another Christmas gift from her overbearing fathers four years ago when vampires were still cool. She is about to cover the stake in holy water, but she guesses just in time that it probably wouldn’t hurt something so Christmasy. She’ll have to cover the stake with something… anti-Christmas- but what could be anti-Christmas?! It’s such a deluded holiday, people from most all walks of life celebrate it in The States… but what if another holiday could counteract it?
“Halloween!” she says, hair standing on end, while she runs into her restroom, closes the door, and turns off the lights. “Bloody Mary Bloody Mary Bloody Mary!”
“…Child?” a sick, weak voice comes from the mirror as the room takes on a faint, crimson glow.
“There’s some Christmas spirit guy in my house, he’s going to take my presents away!”
“…You call upon me to protect your possessions?” the voice whispers with hesitance.
Celia nods furiously. “Please, it’s a new mypad flair!”
The dark voice hums. “So be it. I’ll send a man over,” the low, feminine voice says. With that, the hellish glow subsides, and out from the mirror a jack-o-lantern man with a scarecrow hat climbs out as xylophones and strange, unearthly instruments proclaim his arrival.
“Yo, name’s Wick,” he says, rising to his height of six feet as he brushes off his long, shaggy jacket.
“H-hi! Help me kill this Christmas guy.”
Wick’s jack-o-lantern face squints a pumpkin-eye in surprise, and then shrugs. “Alright, let’s get’em,” Wick says, his glowing eyes staring to her bedroom door. The two creep down the stairs, entering the cheery, fireplace-like light produced by Santa’s son. He’s down by the tree, humming a popular yuletide tune.
“Alright, kick his ass!” Celia says to the tall, imposing crow-man next to her.
Wick leaps up from the side of the stairs and raises his hands, charging with spooky, skeletal magic. “I’d heard Santa’s bit the scythe, heard you Christmas folk were pretty shook up with it. Never thought his son would go ‘round stealing presents though.”
The young man takes a stand, proud and unafraid of Wick. “Yeah? Well I thought a ‘change in managerial policy’ was in order. I always believed in my old man, but now parents buy the toys for kids. He became too soft. Christmas is not celebrated the way it should be. That’s why I’m here. This entitled kid of yours thinks she deserves these presents and has next-to-no appreciation for the hands that give them to her.”
Wick squints a round pumpkin eye, “This true, girl? You think you just deserve things just because you live?”
Celia huffs, “n-no! He’s stealing my gifts that I earned for being a good girl!”
The young Santa laughs, “You kiddin’ me? You don’t deserve this at all. Yo, Wick,”
“You… Know each other?” Celia says, squinting at the two. They both nod.
“Did you know what this girl did with Richie Drives?”
Celia jolts and Wick looks to her. “N-nothing! He’s lying!” she says.
“You mean that thing on Halloween? At the brew and view?”
“Yeah, they’re both underaged too,” Santa says with a cruel grin, stuffing her presents into his sack and replacing them with copious amounts of coal.
“I did see that… Damn, that ain’t good at all,” Wick says, his hands diminishing in their glow as he crosses his arms.
Celia begins trembling. “No! My dad still think I’m good. I was a good girl this year!”
“Only because you didn’t tell ‘em, bitch,” Santa says with a crass smile.
Wick clears his throat, “You’ve changed a bit, Ulrich.”
The boy smirks “I’m sick of being polite. I’m here to take toys.”)
Neat stuff, yes? Comments and thoughts welcome. What do you think the story’s about?