. Merry Christmas.
. Merry Christmas.
. Merry Christmas.
Laying there motionless, flat, sometimes buried (if it happens to snow a bit), Santa zombies abound this time of year. In daylight, they appear harmless. Small, red, ruffled lumps of polypropylene and nylon on lawns all over the neighborhood. Perhaps some white and black appears as well, but still, nothing to be alarmed about.
Then night falls.
With a slight, almost undetectable motion, they awake. Accompanied by a horrifying hiss, their deformed bodies slowly rise in the misty December evening. Santa zombies are on the prowl.
And it’s not just Santa rising up every night. He is accompanied by a cavalcade of animated characters from all walks of death. Elves, polar bears, penguins, reindeer, pigs, flamingos, snowmen and even Snoopy creep eerily into form as darkness spreads.
Okay, so they are inflatables, but that doesn’t mean they are harmless. Each one arrives with dire warnings about suffocation, electrocution, poisoning and explosions. And I thought nutcrackers were creepy!
These nocturnal St. Nicks are positively horrifying. Until morning arrives, that is.
Happy decorating everyone.
I write flash fiction, non-fiction, essays and novels, but the majority of my pieces are short fiction, the classic short story. This month’s Tease is from one such story, and just so happens to be set at Thanksgiving.
She seals the stuffing in a plastic bowl as her mother piles whipped cream on a wedge of pumpkin pie. “Take this to your father in the other room, would you dear.”
She finds her father in his recliner, reading the paper, tossing the Black Friday ads. “All those idiots, getting up at four in the morning. Like cows getting milked.”
“I did it once. Kind of crazy, but fun.” She smiles feebly.
He just shakes his head and continues reading as she sets his pie on the coffee table. She turns, then spins back again.
“Dad, can I ask you something?”
“What?” he mumbles from behind the paper.
“Dad, are you proud of me?”
“What for, bringing me those two bear-faced hyenas that crap boulders? As if I don’t have enough to do around here.”
“No, you know. Proud of me. Who I’ve become.”
He pulls down the paper and looks at her for a long time. His eyes are tired and shiny. He pulls the paper back up, hiding his face. “Ah hell Nicky, you know how I feel.”
She sighs, rolls her eyes. “No, I don’t.”
Silence. The paper doesn’t move. After a couple of deep breaths, she throws her arms in the air and turns. Her mother is leaning against the kitchen entrance, watching. “Put on your coat, dear. I want to show you something.”
They slip out the back door into the crisp night air. She can see twin dog rumps in the moonlight. They’ve chased something into a space behind the steps. Leo looks up, panting and grinning, as if inviting the humans to join the hunt. They decline, continuing down the path to the forbidden shop.
Vapor rises all around her mother’s face as she reveals her secret. “He keeps the key under the door frame, here.”
“It’s alright. We have an unspoken agreement. He acts like I don’t know and I act like I don’t care.” She rattles the padlock free. “I should’ve done this a long time ago.” The door creaks open, liberating the scent of sawdust and two-cycle oil. “Go on.”
Those of you with WordPress blogs have seen the annual reports they send out. This is what stood out in mine.
Here are some notable pics from the year as well.
Stories and photos from Scotland
Blurring the lines between poetry and prose
"Everyone needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to the soul" -John Muir
Is it destiny, happenstance or stratagem?
Showcasing the beauty of Mother Nature
A dose of fetish. Good friends. An incomparable muse.
Where Fictional Characters Rule
Reading, Writing, and some Madness
The semi-private writings of a thirty-something fat girl
reflections on a passing life
Everyone has a story to tell. This is me, telling mine.
I had to find some way to entertain myself, so I made up stories in my mind. One night I started writing them down and never stopped.
I Read To Learn About Others - I Write To Learn About Myself
The Art and Craft of Blogging
Wandering, wondering and writing
Where no one is barred and everyone is grilled.
Death Before Sour Mix