Charlie’s Black Christmas

Enough of snow foxes and cute birds… and after a rich thick slice of a Christmas cake disaster, it’s time for a rich thick slice from the other side with this old chestnut.  A very happy holiday celebration/Merry Christmas to all of you lovely, WordPress people and readers everywhere.

gruesome santa

Charlie touched his brown-rimmed glasses knowingly, and his freckles crinkled as he marched down to the garden’s borders.  He loved how delicate and austere it all looked at this time of year but remembered from school how birds and other small creatures found it difficult to find food – he contemplated eking out worms and other treasures just for them.  His smiling eyes were soon agape when he reached the hole in the deep, green hedge his father took pride in.  Charlie decided to follow a walk of unusual footprints leading off to the street, which was paved with gold – Christmas gold.

The huge, blacklead, street lamp shined golden yellow onto a neighbour’s decorative efforts.  They had gone to town with sled, reindeer, Santas and lots of glittering sights and sounds.  His mind was still on the tracks though and the puzzle they presented.  Charlie’s jaw dropped at the magnificence of next door’s sled where he noticed similar sized prints and more right beside their giant Santa with a glowing red and white smile, and which had a pneumatic wave for everyone.

Charlie knelt down and checked under the sled and then inside of it whilst holding onto his specs, moving them up and down in inspection mode, whilst murmuring the occasional ‘aha’, but he could see noting really.  He scratched his head with stiff cold fingers and rubbed his cold red nose, wiping the drips on his new scarf,  saying an apology to Aunt Mildred for the mess.  He clapped his padded hands together before they clasped behind his back and a shudder took him into high-speed detective work.

He decided to sit on its large leather seat to shelter from the snow falling once again.  The sled began to move slightly, making Charlie feel a bit uneasy, but that soon went as he soon became enamoured of the blue-black sky and the twinkling stars above the white dotted sky.  The gentle snowdrops became a whirr.  From out of nowhere, a booming laugh and bells shrilly rang out behind him before sounding all around.  Charlie’s short-lived, nervous excitement was tinged with longings of the warmth of home, his mum, the Christmas tree and just about any familiar things.   But, on the other hand, maybe that was Santa.  Was it Santa?

Charlie’s eyes were drawn to the sled floor and the tiny prints, which had reappeared.  He pushed his glasses onto his nose, pulling back fast when he noticed a small creature on the seat beside him. Charlie smiled at its furry paws though they were dirty and wet with very ragged nails – he was anything but cute.  Charlie’s smile was met with a scraggy, dark face and crooked, menacing teeth that dripped saliva, and which had turned the sled floor, a greenish yellow.  Charlie’s heart sank, together with thoughts that his companion might be a Christmas elf, and so he held onto his red scarf from aunt Mildred and smelled his mum’s mince pies on his glove, which also bore some squished crumbs.

He was pulled out of regret, near tears, with the roar of ‘Santa’s’ instructions to the hideous 6 beasts pulling the sled.  It jolted him. The horrible goblin like creature that now terrified Charlie, turned to ‘Santa’, and with a hyena’s laugh, and to Charlie’s disbelief, it shrieked the words, ‘One more, and we will be done for this evening!’

Charlie, the grotesque elf and ‘Santa’ were carried into the freezing night’s blizzard – bells ringing, gruesome laughter abound.  And Charlie, at least, was never seen again.

So, be good! Lol.

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Parallaxed

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Memories are slim chance shadows
That glide between the light and darkness

Imagination is a fat cat
Waiting to swell our indifferences

Hope is a ritual seizing of every chance we have
Breathing is an exercise performed daily

Waiting is a nervous habit, what are we waiting for?
Doom is nearby and calling cards are left

Defiantly… What are we going to do?

If you don’t believe the earth is not flat
Or that it revolves around the sun…

Go away.

 

Hal – More Halloween Countdown Hoo-ha

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I had a cat, whose name was carved in hell –
his eyes would scratch sharpest
when evil shone from the two huge black wells
that he’d force me to dip into and promise
him things – things only rarely written in blood –
those things always kept him calm.
I remember he wanted a bird once, and so I got him
one. It was a happy little thing.

I had a cat, he watched the happy bird –
not one word was heard between them
except laughter one evening as twilight
rubbed its nose against my window and shadows
as dark as death evaporated against the walls
just at the moment feathers floated gently
from the cat’s mouth and he was deftly
swallowed whole by the happy bird.