Yuletide never ceases to remind me of the day I ruined everything.
The wind chills me, and I shiver in spite of thick fur. I stare from my tower balcony to the snowscape below.
I hold the lute in my clawed hands. Living and enchanted, he had once been my father’s minstrel.
I stared through the window from my perch on the eucalyptus tree. Tonight was the night. I crept down the trunk and froze as the lights flipped on inside the house. A human wandered into the room, holding a plate of delectable treats before him. Two smaller humans jumped and skipped around him
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Addie Thatcher was in the wrong place—according to old people, anyway.
They claimed that on Christmas Eve, every child should be asleep in their bed, but Addie found herself downstairs long before dawn. Giggling, she pointed her flashlight at the foot of the tree where an enormous gold-and-red package sat, screaming her name.
“‘Tidings of comfort and joy.’ Such an unhelpful sentiment.”
I scribbled the words across the parchment.
“Greetings aren’t inherently comforting, and joy is rarely found outside of childhood.”
“What morose ponderings, my friend. Especially for this time of year. Please tell me you’re not composing our Christmas cards.”
I glared at Victor and suppressed
Ice battered the door as Newt flipped his farm sign to “Closed” and released a happy sigh. Another year of cutting and baling noble firs seven times his height and trying not to get squashed by troll customers was complete.
He’d survived.
He pressed his body against the door, fighting the wind
“Jack!” I shove a strand of wild red hair beneath the hood of my cloak. “Come out right now!”
As I stomp through the moonlit snow to reach the lake just ahead, my thoughts swirl back to the hustle and bustle of party preparations this morning. To Jack and Holly off in the corner
“I don’t see what the big deal is.” I twitch the reins. “It’s not like this is my first time herding caribou or something. I mean, the Big Man was acting like I’m completely inept, but I wasn’t the one waltzing on black ice with the missus. Maybe it’s the sloping forehead.
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“Five minutes to midnight, folks!” I called out, my voice echoing in the grand workshop. “Get your lists ready and stretch those fingers. It’s going to be a wild ride!”
Black Friday was nearly the busiest day of the year, second only to Christmas. As Head Elf of the Technology Department, I had transformed
Every January, for one week, the North Pole sleeps. Elf families tuck in with enough firewood to last, the kitchen elves pass out reheatable frozen meals prepared before the break, and if an elf so desires, he doesn’t have to see another soul for seven blissful days.
This is my favorite week…
You can’t eat morals. This motto had earned Abraham quite the reputation across town, meaning many shady characters ended up in his tent on darkened nights. When the work Abraham had done for his clients tormented his mind, he told himself one thing.
Scruples didn’t stave off starvation—money did.
And the fellow…
Santa knew this house. As his sleigh bumped lightly on the slate roof, he noticed a frisbee nestled in a gutter. I gave that to Suzy last year. Santa bent down, his ample belly bending easily, and tossed the toy into the yard. He liked the girl here, but her brother Bobby was next level.
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Donner. Where’s Donner?
Nicholas shielded his face from the blizzard’s gale, lifted his kerosene lamp, and counted the antlered heads of his reindeer. Dasher. Dancer.
A January gust smacked his red coat. Snow stung rosy cheeks.
Prancer… Vixen. The old man’s teeth gritted. Comet… Cupid… Blitzen…
Donner?
Yukon peaks loomed in silent observance…
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