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the eve

the eve

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weak light woke mariah from a dream about the yeti. she slowly pulled a hand out from the warmth of her wool blankets to rub the sleep from her eyes, then opened one eye to take in the scene out her east-facing window in her sleeping room. the sky was still mostly dark but she could tell the sun was itching to make an appearance soon. this was not good.

she threw back her pile of blankets and pulled on her fur robe and slippers to peer out the window. there was a scurry of activity outdoors, with elves running between warehouses and last-minute seers flying in. most years she was grateful that all she needed to manage was the herd, but this year may be a problem. mariah frowned at the dark brown of the ground and the dull look of the trees that surrounded the pole. where was that yeti this year? she had seen him just three nights ago and had seemed fine but a bit frazzled, like he’d just woken up.

instead of starting a fire, she dressed as quickly as possible, grabbed her essentials (silver dagger, peppermints, a sprig of evergreen), and strode out of her sleeping room and directly into the stables. eight antlered heads turned toward her, and she felt a surge of pride and love for her deer. she hadn’t been working with this herd very long, but she felt more comfortable with deer than she did with people some days. and this herd was the best she’d had in decades.

the elves had already been there that morning with breakfast, a much richer and heartier fare than normal. tonight was the night. mariah hoped, anyway. she went to blitz and rubbed the space between her antlers, brushed the sides of her face. mariah noticed the wear on blitz’s hooves and wondered what had happened during the lady’s outing, but she knew better than to bring it up. on to dawn, cammie, cushla, paige, daksha, darcy, vicky. the excitement strummed in the air of the stables.

then mariah walked outdoors just as the sun slid above the horizon. she squinted at it and took a look at the flawless blue sky. a feeling of dread filled her. she caught the eye of the elf across the yard also staring at the sky. the sled master. she walked over.

“where is the yeti?” he hissed. the sled master did not look happy, and with good reason. if there was no snow, the sled couldn’t take off. “this hasn’t happened in…” he sputtered, throwing his arms in the air and making a face. “i don’t even know because it’s been that long. and i’m old.” his eyebrows were so furrowed, they looked like one eyebrow, which would have made mariah giggle if the situation hadn’t been so dire.

“the man in red hasn’t even mentioned it,” said mariah, mulling that over. usually red’s intuition was spot on, but this was worrying.

“it’s never been this late,” said the sled master. “and if there’s no snow, THEN what do we do? there’s a first time for red to be wrong.” he turned in a huff and disappeared in the sled shed. mariah slipped her hand in her pocket and pulled out a peppermint, then popped it in her mouth.

she scuffed her boot at the brown dirt beneath her and took off her hat. it was too warm, and not a snowcloud in sight. at this point, all she could do is hope.

so, she went about prepping the herd. she shined the jingle bells, brushed the herd’s fur one by one, gave each girl a good massage, slipped them all plenty of fruits and nuts, and trimmed and buffed their hooves, paying special attention to blitz.

the day turned into dusk, and as she was was twining hollyberries on cammie’s antlers, mariah needed to take a break to find her gloves. the herd’s breath steamed in the stable. she glanced outside and noticed that clouds had covered the little sun they had this time of year and were moving quickly. a spark of hope glimmered in her chest. humming, she started a fire in the small potbelly stove in the center of the stable and grabbed her gloves.

soon, the herd was ready to go. she gave one last pat to daksha and kissed paige on the nose, then practically skipped to the door. (but she restrained herself – if the elves saw a hedgewitch skip? she’d never hear the end of it.)

the door creaked as she slid it open, spilling stable light into the darkness. the elves were scurrying around with last-minute packages and bags, and she saw the door to the big house open and the man in red step out on the stoop. mariah met him in the middle of the yard.

“the herd’s ready,” she said anxiously, waiting for red to mention the unspoken.

“hm, good good. the sled master’s reported as well,” he said in his gruff voice. the lady came up beside him, clasping a clipboard and a very thick ledger. she smiled at mariah, then the man in red, and then looked up.

“the snow, dear?”

the clamor stopped as ears of all sorts twitched toward the man in red. the sled master was silhouetted in the door of the sled shed, body tense. mariah’s hand twitched toward her peppermints.

the man in red looked up, squinted, ran his gloved hand over his beard, then set his sights ahead.

“the yeti knows what he’s doing.”

he and the lady left mariah standing in the middle of the yard while chittering from elves, seers, and other creatures gradually filled the silence.

mariah looked up, and a snowflake kissed her nose.

other weird holiday short stories

the treemonger

the treemonger

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the story was that the blood-sucking deer were prevalent in these parts, or so the treemonger heard. he’d never seen one, and he didn’t think he was likely to lay eyes on one because who’d ever heard of a blood-sucking deer? but then, he didn’t leave his home much, and he rarely left his grove of evergreens for too long.

his trees of life were his constant focus – whether joy or struggle, or both, as he came to realize most days. this far north, it was rare to see a copse of trees of any size, let alone his sizeable grove he maintained. it was his family’s land and trees for decades to the point of centuries. the evergreens on the west grew in orderly rows; to the south, they were interspersed with some fruit trees that his father had planted on a whim and managed to thrive; looking to the east, shrubs dotted the understory of the tall pines, which the monger never understood; and to the north, the trees were scattered and wild, despite how orderly his family had tried to plant them.

in the middle of the trees stood his small home and the greenhouse that was five times the size of his living quarters. between the two buildings squatted a small wood-burning furnace and a stack of split logs in rows next to it. next to his greenhouse was the small barn that housed his animals: chickens, a cow, and three barn cats that left him mice in exchange for milk from the cow.

despite the whispered rumors and stories from travelers who stopped on their way from somewhere or to anywhere, he didn’t believe the blood-sucking deer existed. why? because his chickens had never been touched. he figured if the blood-suckers were real, his livestock would’ve been lunch by now. just the other day, he’d run into a traveler on the edge of his grove while checking a tree that was nearing the end of its life after a windstorm. he was sputtering about some ghost horse he’d seen over the harvest in his hometown to the south. the treemonger just shook his head and muttered “nonsense” to himself.

now that the days were getting colder, the treemonger spent a lot of time making sure his spring saplings were doing well. he pulled a wagon of mulch through the lines of the trees to the small trees, making sure that they were fully protected from the cold that would be sweeping across the tundra. after he finished up mulching, he’d go around with a water tank on wheels to give them one last drink before the ground completely froze. already there was snow on the ground, but the monger could tell the trees would still take some water, so he made his rounds.

after he pulled his mulch and water into his greenhouse (and stayed a bit longer than necessary to warm up), the treemonger headed out for his evening walk on the long drive to the edge of his property to check his trees down that way. the sun was already low on the horizon, though it didn’t get much above the horizon at all this time of year, so it was difficult to see very far, but he was used to the light and knew his way. when he got to the edge of his property, as was his method, he circled around and took in the area before heading back.

to the north stood two women, like they were waiting for him. the treemonger just stood still and stared for a moment.

“we were wondering if you’d come down this way,” said the taller one as she stepped closer to him with her arm extended in a handshake. the treemonger shook her hand, then looked over at the other visitor, who didn’t seem to want to move any closer. he looked at the woman who was shaking his hand and then again at the other one.

“You may have to invite her onto your property,” said the taller quietly, then glanced back.

“i welcome any visitors who happen across my path. please feel free to join me in my home,” the treemonger rambled. he doubted he’d ever said such nice words to anyone. suddenly a warm whoosh of wind gusted across the top of his head and over to the shorter woman, and she visibly relaxed and started forward.

“hi, i’m mariah,” she said smiling, hand reaching for his.

they walked in silence up to his cabin, which he knew should be warm. he glanced sideways at the two women: the taller one was walking in silence, eyes resting on the buildings ahead, but the shorter one kept glancing up and around at the trees. he huffed into his mustache and shoved his hands in his pockets. if they started going on about blood-sucking deer, he’d kick them out.

“your greenhouse is impressive,” said the taller as they passed the building. “how long as the grove been in your family?” people had always assumed this had been his family’s pastime, but none had been so overt.

“onwards of 200 or 300 years, i’d reckon.”

the taller one nodded. “i’ve seen this grove for many years from afar but had never needed a reason to come visit.”

the treemonger held the door and they all tromped inside and removed their boots. he gestured toward the chairs around the table, poured them some tea, and remained standing while they each took a tentative sip.

“you’re wondering why we’re here,” said the shorter – mariah. he nodded. “we need your help. well, specifically, your trees.”

the taller one sat up straighter, and he noticed now that she was no village woman. no traveler. neither of them were. their actions, their dress, the way they talked – they were important.

“you know how you had to invite me in?” he had wondered about that. the wind was especially unsettling. “i’m a hedgewitch – evergreens tend to keep me out of certain areas, especially private property.” he frowned at that. this was treading on blood-sucker territory. “you know it’s true,” said mariah. she’d seen his reaction. “you felt the wind and the air.” he did have to admit that much. he nodded.

“your trees are special. they’re owned evergreens and keep away certain paranormal beings. some just need a gentle nudge, like me. others – well, they can’t even be in seeing distance of the boughs.”

those blood-suckers- no wonder he hadn’t seen any, if they existed. they couldn’t come near his property. he wondered if they would even be able to come near him.

he must’ve muttered something because mariah continued: “yes, you wouldn’t have seen any of the blood-sucking deer. or the other. this whole area has some kind of aura, if that makes sense. it’s even on you. i wish i’d had some of your pine needles with me when i’d had to kill the herd or had that encounter with the other.” the taller one put her hand on mariah’s shoulder.

“so…” words caught in his throat and he cleared it. “so what do you need with me?”

the two women looked at each other. the taller one drew in a breath and withdrew a letter from her pocket, then slid it across the table toward the treemonger.

“we’re from the pole. we have a problem.”

watching

watching

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this was the busiest time of year for the lady. now that the last month was upon them and the day almost here, the littles tended to be nicer and calmer. but her seers knew.

people thought that the man in red just knew who was naughty and who was nice, but that wasn’t the case. the man in red oversaw the elves and kept on top of the latest trends, but it was the seers that sorted out the wheat from the chaff. the network of seers was really the most important part of the operations in the north, and everyone knew it. the lady was in charge of the seers.

the seers were posted year-round all throughout the world, just watching and reporting back to the pole. they saw fights that erupted in the middle of a schoolyard; a helping hand with chores; a smile or a frown toward a stranger. what they saw went directly into the giant database at the pole, which crunched the numbers and spit out  the lists first at the 6th of the last month, when the naughty were given a warning and good rewarded, and then at the 25th, when the final results were compiled. it was very rare that a naughty would turn to nice.

even though the seers had been watching all year, it seemed that double the information came in around this time. add onto that that the seers started gathering lists, and it was a lot for the lady to make sure went smoothly.

the lists were actually a fun part of the year. the seers gathered the letters and lists the little wrote. depending on where they were, the seers gathered the letters from windowsills, above chimneys after littles sent their letters up in the waft of fire breeze, or from local letter carriers. she hired temps to help read, decipher, and transcribe the lists into the database, where it would be cross referenced with what the elves had already made this year, then it would adjust what items needed to be put into more production. then it was up to the man in red.

of course there were asks for things she couldn’t put under a tree or fireplace or in shoes or at the foot of a bed: a good harvest, a happier home life, a pet, a baby sister. but they always tried with the things they could put in the littles’ homes.

it was the first night of the temps’ month-long job, and the pile of letters that had already arrived over the past couple weeks would keep them busy for a couple days before they really started coming in. at that point, mariah should have made it to the pole, and she was more than happy to help keep the temps in line. while the temps started in with the lists, the lady walked over to the pile of letters, running her hands along them. a few were decorated grandly in reds and greens, others had sprigs of holly attached to them. she opened one and read the explanation that this little had been very good, her dad could attest to that, and then a very short list of what she would like. the lady smiled and closed it up. soon the seers would be making their nightly drop.

this time of year, the pole was almost always dark, but the seers were called seers for a reason. not only could they see in heart of hearts, but their eyesight wasn’t bad either. even when the moon failed to make an appearance, the seers easily found their way by starlight or even in cloud cover.

the lady strode out to the far end of the complex, to the large doors where the reindeer entered on the big night. she really did enjoy this part of the year, as busy as it was. she glanced up at the timekeeper on the wall, then swung open the large doors to the chilly night, yellow light spreading into darkness.

the moon was out, almost full and shining brightly on snow that had fallen just a couple nights before. it was the sort of silence that soft, new snow only brings. the lady watched skies in the silence, waiting.

she always heard them before she saw them – twinkly, sharp notes floating across the air, like icicles clinking together or frozen branches waving in the wind. then a rush as the small, air-borne seers flew into the large room, wings brushing against her cheeks leaving warmth and happiness.

they chattered amongst themselves, their voices the source of the twinkling noise she always heard before she saw. most times the lady didn’t even try to understand them, even though she could if she tried. one by one, they dropped their bundles of letters on a large table at one end of the room. they didn’t spend much time at the pole, as their work was never done. in a rush, they left the room and darted into the night. the lady stood by the door, watching them spread across the sky.

she felt a brush of wings at her elbow, and glanced down. one seer – the one from the northeast – looked up at her, holding a single letter in her hands and a concerned look on her face. the letter was on brown paper, one that looked as if it’d been used more than once, and singed on one end. this household must be chimney sender. she took the letter and looked at the seer.

“i’m sorry, lady. i’ve never seen anything like it. i thought you’d want it.” and the seer fluttered off into the night. the lady watched. she knew the location and name of the little would already be in the database or in her files, tagged important. she knew how organized her seers were.

she glanced at the letter, devoid of any decoration, then turned it over and opened it.

it was addressed: “to the other.”

the air went out of her. instinctively, she searched her pockets for a peppermint, then the lady shut the doors and ran to find the man in red.

 

the other

stuffed

stuffed

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every once in a while, stu got the feeling that he wasn’t long for the world. his feathers ruffled in an odd way after a chill went down his spine, but it only lasted for a moment, then it was gone.

the thought didn’t last long, though, as his job was more important than thoughts on his own mortality. he may not have been the most good looking or the best at evoking jubilant reactions, but he tried his best to spread gratitude as best he could.

stu was relatively new to the scene. when he met with the others at the solstices, he could tell that they’d been around a while. they had enduring a lot of humanity, and stu’s job was to bring out humanity’s thankful side. not all of the others sought that, or even had much contact with humanity, for that matter.

now that the end of the year was looming, it was extra work for stu. he knew that thanksgiving was his time to shine, his peak performance of the year. he wasn’t sure how exactly he spread thankfulness, since he hadn’t been in this position very long, but he knew he was key. so stu kept on doing what stu did best: being stu.

he headed outside the day before thanksgiving, strutting down his front porch and ruffling a bit to let the chilly air perk him up. he stared at the dead grey sky before thinking it was a great day to alive. almost immediately, he noticed two squirrels and a chipmunk fighting over some remaining corn cobs that were in a nearby garden. stu strolled over and immediately the animals stopped fighting and divided up the food for their winter stores. this was pretty common for stu; all he needed to do was be in the presence of disagreement and it dissipated.

stu walked a lot every day, finding strife and spreading gratitude. he considered himself to be a great peacemaker.

but this day before the big day, he was feeling especially good about his work. he covered a lot of ground and spread a lot of cheer, fairness, and justice among a lot of creatures.

it was dark when he finally made his way home that evening. he frowned when he saw the lights in his small home were on, but pushed open the front without a second thought.

there was a woman standing in the corner fussing over a box with a light over it. she turned her head as stu cleared his throat, and he saw it was the hedgewitch…what was her name?

“stu, you’ve made it home. you were out longer than the others,” she said, walking toward him slowly. he peered around her and saw a large egg sitting in the box, cracks along the surface. mariah. that was her name. she was nice to him at the solstices and other get togethers. nicer than the others, except maybe the yeti. but stu thought that had to do with the yeti being a yeti.

“you’ve done great,” she said, smiling, coming closer. well, she was right about that. stu felt really good about the day he’d had. it was especially nice coming from her. she had a sad look on her face as she reached out to give him a hug. stu opened up for the hug.

“i’m really sorry about this stu,” and he heard the sound of a blade coming out of the side of her boot, but he was already in her vice grip, and struggling was useless.

“shhh, it’ll be over soon. thanksgiving needs a sacrifice.”

the egg cracked open.

so comes the snow

so comes the snow

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biggie rubbed his eyes to get the sleep out of them. no matter what, every year he woke up around the same time: after the harvest but before the solstice. a voice spoke to him in his dreams, telling him it was time to wake, but when he woke, he never remembered who it was or what exactly it said. all he knew was that he was ravenous.

he stretched his long arms overhead and stretched. 6 months of hibernating in this cave had done nothing for the joints; even though he was relatively young, he was still thousands of years old, and no activity doesn’t do anything for anyone. biggie rooted through his small pile of dried fruits and nuts that he’d set in the corner for this very moment, and scarfed down every last bit of food he found. time to find water.

he squinted as he made his way out of the cave. it was bright, even though the sun was low in the sky and shrouded by cloud cover and the thick pines of the land he lived in. he looked around at the familiar surroundings, taking in the bare branches, the browning grass, and rattling leaves on shrubs and small, scrubby trees that framed the entrance to his home. the grey clouds were heavy in the sky, as they always were when he made his first appearance after his long sleep.

biggie stared down at himself and shook out his arms, then ran his fingers through his shaggy white fur, cleaning himself of the detritus he’d picked up while rolling around in his sleep. after five minutes of grooming, he was ready to get to the water and set out on his journey.

stretching out his legs felt good, and his thick-soled feet were impervious to the little stones and sticks that were underfoot on his way. as he walked, small creatures sniffed the air, examining the frost he left behind in his footprints, then hopping away (most likely to store up some more food – and quickly).

it was a quick jaunt to the river, and biggie knelt down and dipped his head to the water, slurping what he knew was a reasonable amount before his stomach would revolt. then he leaned back and surveyed the area. the wind blew in from the north, just enough to bring a chill, and there was moisture in the air. several birds were lined up on skinny branches, ruffling their feathers and watching him with their bright eyes. rodents of all sizes started gathering around, peering from behind tree trunks and sitting up on rocks. despite the rumors, biggie was very gentle and attracted creatures of all sorts. that’s why he tended to stay away from humans; they wouldn’t want to let him go.

he grumbled, clearing his throat a bit before speaking after a six-month rest on his vocal cords.

“it’s about that time, isn’t it?” he addressed all the creatures, and then they burst out in chitters and squeaks and grumblings of their own. biggie nodded.

he placed his palm on the river, and it turned to ice, cracking as it adjusted to the flow of the water. then as his palms turned upward, the sky let loose a cloud of white flakes. he had 6 months, then the voice would call to him again: time to sleep.

but not yet. he stood and started walking through the new snow, tiny creatures following in his wake.

the hedgewitch

the hedgewitch

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all the fields and gardens had been harvested, the food stored in root cellars or preserved so that they would survive the winter. earlier that week, the people had brought the livestock in from the high summer pastures, herding the animals as they ambled down from the hills and into the fenced off land closer to their homes. that morning, groups of men all over the countryside had  corralled some of the livestock and slaughtered them for the lean months ahead.

the hedgewitch sat cross-legged on the dirt floor in her sparse cabin where she spent the spring, summer, and autumn months. after tonight, she would head north.

second only to solstice, tonight was imperative in keeping the seasons aligned. and unlike solstice, where she was sure someone could do her job, tonight she was the intermediary and the only intermediary.

the sun was almost below the horizon, the days growing shorter more quickly. it was halfway between the equinox and solstice, and tonight was her big night.

after another five minutes of meditating, she opened her eyes just as someone knocked at the door.

“mariah, we’re ready!”

mariah took stock of her surroundings – shelves loaded with hearty fruits and vegetables, braided onions and garlic hanging from the beams. while she was gone, the people in her village used her cabin as a storeroom. her eyes settled on her workbench, and she rolled forward to come to her feet and open the door. her neighbor’s daughter stood there, and she bounded inside to watch while mariah grabbed what she needed: the silver knife into her boot for sure; peppermints in a pocket, absolutely. then she grabbed a few apples and nuts, sage. matches. she smiled at the girl who watched. “let’s go.”

the bonfires were already lit, and she saw several of her villagers already had put on masks and different clothes, some as their dead loved ones, some as the real monsters that tonight might bring. their guises did nothing to help anything, but mariah never said anything because she enjoyed watching them. tables had been brought out around the fire, loaded with beloved family heirlooms, special meals, and assortments of just-harvested crops and livestock.

tonight, at the halfway point, the hedge lowered  between the living and otherworld. people all over the country were ready to greet their loved ones who’d passed on, bribing them here with their favorite foods and items.

mariah, on the other hand, was ready to greet the other creatures that skulked along the hedge. no one else could see these creatures except the hedgewitch, but the she knew that if they weren’t held back, the yearly harvests and livestock could be wiped out. it had been many centuries since that had happened, unlike the year she didn’t make the winter solstice. losing the yearly foodstores was many times worse.

she strolled the perimeter, scanning the edges of the woods, the pastures, for any signs of the werewolves or firebreathers. one year she had had to hold off fomarians before they brought chaos to the living world. like every year, torches were lit to light the path for loved ones and keep the evil at bay. gourds had been emptied and carved with candles lit inside in hopes to ward off the creatures; just like the costumes did nothing, mariah let this one slide as well because she liked seeing what new carvings people came up with.

she also knew that this night the Other could travel easily, as well as the vampires. just thinking about the Other had mariah digging in her pocket for a peppermint; she popped it in her mouth. she rarely saw a vampire in these parts, but after her last encounter with the Other, she wasn’t taking any chances.

she lit some sage and let it smolder as she walked, setting the stage. she hoped that some families would see their loved ones, but she never expected any to. it was a rare occurrence.

at midnight, the hedge would thin. time slipped quickly, and suddenly it was time. her villagers still danced around the bonfires and chatted with each other across the bounty piled on the tables. but mariah found a quiet corner near a bonfire and sat on the ground, still holding her smoking sage. she pulled out the apples and nuts from her pocket and tossed them on the ground in front of her, along  with a peppermint for good measure. she took a deep breath, stared into the fire, and closed her eyes so she could look for the hedge.

at first it was hazy, like always, but soon the sky cleared and the stars were bright points in the sky. even though there was no moon, the land in front of her was lit up like it was a full moon, and she easily saw the hedge, where darkness smoothed into black and nothingness. she heard rustling and the creatures’ noises and howls from afar, but she knew that a lot of it was just grandstanding. generally, just her presence at the hedge on the otherplain kept everyone on their own side.

she was about halfway through the night when something at one end of the hedge caught her eye, and she slowly made her way over to the white mist that was spreading onto the living side. before she could do anything, she had to know what she was working with. werewolves responded to something entirely differently than firebreathers, and they both were a lot less work than the fomarians. but she’d never seen anything ooze between the hedge in a mist before.

as she got closer, the mist started to take shape and suddenly there was a very large skeleton of a horse in front of her, steam coming out of its mouth, frothing and stomping and generally making a fuss. then it paused and started wailing at mariah. mariah wracked her brain for what this could be. was it some sort of banshee? there was no way it could be a firebreather, and it was definitely a horse, not a wolf. it was too transparent to be a fomarian.

the horse started wailing and keening, taking slow steps away from the hedge, closer to the living world. mariah knew that if it got past her, it would wend its way to the living and wreak as much havoc as possible. once one got out, the others grew a little bolder.

her knife wouldn’t work on the horse, so that was out. she patted her pockets. her sage was in there, so she pulled it out and wafted it in the direction of the horse. the horse kept wailing. mariah spit her peppermint out at it, hoping it may be of the same stuff as the Other, but no suck luck.

as she dug in her pockets, she stopped suddenly and listened to the noise the horse was making. she noticed a rhythm, a lilt. it dawned on her: the horse was keening one of the songs the elves sang. mariah frowned and looked at the horse. it was an odd place for mari lwyd to be, but not entirely impossible…

mariah folded her hands in front of her and stared at mari, or one of mari’s projections. after a few seconds, she heard where the song was headed, and she joined in, humming where she didn’t know the words (the elves tended to load the song with elf profanities, so mariah really didn’t know a lot of the words). as she picked out the words, mari lwyd slowed down, and the two sang a strange duet at the edge of the hedge, heading back to the otherworld. slowly, mariah led mari to the hedge, and mari lwyd bent a knee, almost bowing, and dissipated into the darkness, and wisps of ghost slowly sucked back to the other side.

the rest of the night was calm.

mariah nodded to consciousness at dawn, her eyes blurry at first but then focusing on the embers of the bonfire. someone had put a large blanket over her in the night, and as mariah moved it aside to sit up, snow fell off and to the ground in front of her. people were huddled under furs and blankets around the remains of the fires, waiting out the night. others were standing at the tables, eating the food that they had set out the night before. the sky was a dark grey, and light snow fell to the ground, sticking here and there where it could. mariah squinted at the sky. winter was coming.

it was time for the hedgewitch to head north.

 

other odd holiday stories

silent night

silent night

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the lady normally held court at the pole, but once a year – during the busiest time – she left her station for a night. 
people thought she was just a figure, a counterpart. most thought her most important role was to make sure the man in red (partner in business, life, love) ate. (her best business venture had been when she hired the cook. she hated cooking and everyone agreed that her food was bland. she never understood how she had been tasked with that to begin with.) she was much better at keeping the books and overseeing the network of seers. and by the 20th, her work was mostly done.
so once a year, she left the pole, the work, the hectic scene, to embrace the dark. 
it was always cold the night before the light ritual, and she always took the head reindeer. the past couple years it was blitz. after the herd had been destroyed by the vampire, she had a hard time coming to terms with the new crew, but she thought this year she could fully trust blitz. 
the lady slipped through the heavy front doors, spilling a beam of yellow-gold light onto the white snow, and hurried down the stone steps to the outbuildings where she knew blitz was waiting. 
her long leather skirts swished as she quickly opened the door to the herd’s housing, and blitz was there. they stepped into the night, where the lady rummaged in her pocket for the chocolate nut balls she shoved in there, pushing aside the peppermints and silver dagger she carried with her these days. the vampires were rampant this year for some reason, and after the episode mariah had with the other, she wasn’t taking any chances. 
fittingly, the sky was cloudy, shrouding them from the stars and moon that might provide some light. blitz’s hooves were silent in the snow, occasionally catching purchase on a stone. while blitz didn’t talk, she did understand what the lady was saying, and her eyes always seemed to convey whatever it was she wanted the lady to know. the lady, used to being behind the scenes, was ok with little conversation. 
tonight they walked in complete silence. 
tonight they walked far.
but it was never enough time to prepare. 
blitz snorted puffy white breaths and stopped mid-stride. the lady felt it too. he was here. 
the wind briefly whipped around her, and suddenly he showed himself. arawn, master of underworld, sleep, the night god. it was so cold that the lady had to blink hard to keep tears from leaking down her cheeks and freezing. she put her mittened hand over her mouth and caught her breath. 
“maire.”
of the three people who knew her name, he was the only one who ever said it out loud. she breathed and let him in. 
*****
after, blitz knelt beside her lady and patiently waited until she rested her hand on her back and pulled herself to standing. together they walked back, slowly, carefully. the lady’s hand never left blitz’s  back until they reached the tall doors of the house at the pole. even now, in the dark, early hours of the morning, the lights were still ablaze and everyone hard at work. no one knew the lady left this night every year.
the lady stroked blitz’s nose and smiled a satisfied smile. she knew blitz wouldn’t tell a soul. it was a necessary darkness, the start of the ritual to bring back the light.

krampennacht

krampennacht

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silver bullets clinked against each other as mariah searched her pockets for a piece of peppermint. her throat was hurting after yesterday, a long day out in the cold prepping the deer for the trip. too much happened at this time of year. there was the annual light-bringing, then she needed to make sure the deer were ready for the trip. 
but first there was the first visit. 
sure, the man in red had his part under control, but the other, well…he was a different matter. he didn’t seem to think there was a line. red got the good; he got the bad. but he wanted both and someone needed to remind him every year. 
turns out that in addition to deer herder, mariah was deemed lead communicator at the pole. the elves were too busy, red was prepping, and the lady was too busy maintaining the massive database. thank gods they got that cook a while back; no one was eating, and red had an image to uphold.
sighing, mariah sucked on her peppermint, donned her snow gear, and headed out to talk to the other. he made her uncomfortable and was hard to get to, but he listened to her for some reason. 
whistling softly, she headed out into the woods toward where she thought he lived. he moved every year, but there were signs throughout the year – mostly dead plantlife and lack of songbirds – that let her know where he shacked up for the warmer months. (not that it got that much warmer here, but the other liked it cold.)
it wasn’t long before she got to the upheaval in the earth where a small opening indicated a cave. he generally didn’t stray too far from the man in red. they worked together, despite what the other thought. 
she crouched down and looked at the small crevice that led into his lair, scrunching her nose. it smelled of dirt and rot. she dropped the small pack she brought onto the ground outside the entrance, pulled a flare from one of its outer pockets, and stuck it into the ground. she’d learned early on to set one so she could easily find her way out. she grabbed another flare and got on her belly to crawl inside cave. 
this one was tight for a few feet, then opened up so she could at least stand on her feet and crouch. then the descent began.
every year it was the same, and mariah began to dread the conversation she’d have to have. but the man in red counted on her, and so did thousands of the littles who were too good to be taken by the other. so she picked up her pace. the sooner she got there, the sooner she could leave. if only the other were as easy to deal with as vampire deer.
soon, too soon, the floor evened out and there was his door – a golden-handled, wooden monstrosity that had carvings of wood switches hashed over it. she had no idea how he transported these between his different dwellings. 
mariah knocked twice, once, three times, then grabbed the handle. it glowed briefly, warming her hand. she dropped her flare and pulled the door open. 
he sat low on the ground on a wooden stump, his cloven and human feet stretched out, a small fire in the middle of the room. he never talked, just stared at her with his tongue hanging out, glistening. 
she found that if she walked with confidence and got her part over with, he generally didn’t object.
“you know why i’m here. tonight is the night, and the man in red has sent me to make sure you’re on the same page.” she wished she had another peppermint. her throat was still hoarse.
“tonight you and he will go visit the littles. he’s got the really good ones, the somewhat good ones, and the okay ones. you get the bad ones. and you know which ones they are; you should’ve gotten a list from the lady the other day.” how the lady sent this list, mariah didn’t know. she was just glad she didn’t have to haul that with her during her visit. 
“the man wants to remind you, again, that you just. get. the. bad. ones. no others.” mariah dug around in her pocket searching for a peppermint. the other still stared at her. his cloven foot jiggled slightly but that was the only movement from him. “and you can use your switches, put them in your bag, and hang them from the tall tree, but you CANNOT eat them. we’ve been over this.” he used to eat the bad ones on the solstice, but the committee had put a stop to that when they realized that it was interfering with the ritual. 
“then the next morning, you let them go. that should scare them. any repeat offenders, you can hold two nights.” ah! she found her peppermint. she popped it into her mouth. sweet relief. 
“do we have an understanding?”
the other stared, blinked slowly, and then nodded once. mariah nodded. 
“then we’ll see you tonight. sundown sharp – the man in red will be ready. and don’t forget your list.” 
the other nodded again. then again and again, much too quickly for a beast like him to be able to do, and mariah stepped back in alarm. she had never seen this before. she glanced behind her for the door, then back toward the fire, and he was right in front of her. she could smell his rotted breath, see the strands of fur on his face, the saliva on his tongue. she scrunched her nose and did the only thing she could think of – she spat her peppermint out of her mouth directly onto his slimy tongue. 
he screamed and jumped back. his tongue seemed to be smoking. mariah widened her eyes, then took her chance. she leaped backward to the door, got out, and slammed the door shut. her flare was still there, so she grabbed it and ran. she didn’t think he would follow. 
the trip out seemed much quicker, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the matching flare sparking at the narrow exit. she crawled out of the cave and stood up, brushing dirt and leaves off before putting her pack on and heading back to the pole. she took the knife from her boot and held it, just in case. 
this would need to be reported to the man. and she needed to add peppermints to her list of essentials. 
prior
and prior

solstice

solstice

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it was the doldrums of earth’s axial tilt, and mariah had to find it that night, or the light wouldn’t come back. she tromped through knee-deep snow, dodging an occasional shrub or short tree, winding through the tall trees, looking for a glimpse of light, of anything, in the darkness. 
she’d been searching for a couple hours already, but she knew that she wouldn’t find it until the last minute, and while panic hadn’t quite set in, she was starting to get a little antsy. her snowpants caught on a stump, and she stumbled, landing softly on top of the snow. slowly, she gathered herself back up and started onward, patting her pocket to make sure she had everything. snacks: check. matches and backup tinderbox: check. dagger: check. 
every year she did this, and every year it was in a different spot, and there was no way to dupe the system. for some reason, it had to be work to get there. and she had to go on foot. no help from anyone or anything. she’d tried that one year and she’d been locked out. the people never forgave her for that year; mid-june and the sun was setting at 5 p.m. sighing, she leaned against a tree before heading on. 
the goblins would be there first. they were generally a resourceful bunch and seemed to have an instinct for finding it. there were clues given over the year, and they were especially clever. then the elves, who seemed to be almost as clever as the goblins, but not quite. after, that it was anybody’s game really, but mariah was usually one of the last ones to show up. just once she’d like to get there third. maybe fourth, after the yeti. she was good friends with him and he was nice to snuggle up to after being cold all day.
she pulled back her coat sleeve and held her watch up so she could read the hands in the moonlight. she had 20 minutes; she was cutting it close this year. it always seemed to work out, though. even if she knew she should be late, at the last minute, she seemed to find what she was looking for. sure, her surroundings got a little fuzzy, and she got light-headed, as if she was moved through time and space to get to where she needed to be. 
a little bit farther, she knew, and she’d be there. there was always a weird sort of tingling when she got close, and she could feel little sparks in her fingertips. sure enough, through the trees ahead, she saw a muted light. she picked up her pace as best she could, and there it was in front of her. a tall, shimmering pane. the veil to the other world. she took a deep breath, ready to slip through. her mittened hand reached inside her pocket and gripped the dagger. 
it was never fun, slipping through, and she stepped up and down at the same time, then tumbled to the ground. no one was ever graceful when slipping. she got up and walked to the high, roaring fire, smiling at the others, and started stripping off her snow gear, grateful to be near the warm fire. she glanced around. as per usual, she was the last to show up. the goblins, elves, yeti were there. so was the rabbit, the cat, the turkey, and the man in red. 
“thank gods,” the cat said. “we don’t need a repeat of 300 years ago.” mariah rolled her eyes; he said that every year. the yeti smiled at her and held out its arms. mariah huddled into the yeti, warming up before the task at hand. 
then there was a crashing sound in the woods around them, and mariah went to her jacket and found her dagger. she flicked the edge – sharp as ever. she turned and watched as a couple goblins and elves pulled in a deer, tethered to ropes and a muzzle over its mouth.
“he had one early this year,” said a goblin, nodding toward the man in red, “but decided to kill it right then instead of saving it for this. which would have been logical.”
“he ate my entire herd. i wasn’t going to let him go after that.”
mariah nodded. 
“i was there. it was the best thing to do. that deer was completely out of line,” she said. “if we get more like that, i might have to start carrying silver bullets myself.” she spun her dagger in her hands. 
“and i had to rebuild the herd after that. do you know how difficult it is to find one reindeer who’s willing to take that job, let alone eight?” she grimaced, then beckoned them forward. “let’s do this before we lose the time.”
they brought the deer forward, and mariah could see his glistening fangs through the muzzle. not a deer any longer. just a blood-sucking vampire whose death would bring back the sun. the others started chanting, and the fire spit sparks and popped and cracked. she wiped her dagger on her buckskin pants and got to work.
the next day, the sun stayed in the sky a little longer. 

shiny

shiny

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[i am not choosing the scary monster and animal, but i saw a combo that i wanted to write about.]
rudy roamed the woods on a regular basis, searching for something to eat. his thirst for blood never stopped; as soon as he stopped feeding, he felt sated for short amount of time, then it was off to look for new blood.
the days were short this time of year, which meant more time for hunting for rudy. he didn’t like being outside when the sun shone bright, and he spent most days curled in a cave, waiting for sunset. 
time to hunt.
rudy stretched out his legs and trotted out of his cave, sniffing the air to catch a scent of a rabbit, a raccoon; even a squirrel would do well about now. smelling nothing on the crisp air, he set out across the icy ground and started his daily ritual for food. 
it wasn’t too long until he found his first victim: a small, white rabbit hopped across the corner of his vision, and rudy was there in a flash, his fangs popping out and sinking into the quivering animal’s flesh. he felt warmth course down his throat, felt his stomach contract after feeding for the first time that night. after the rabbit was drained, it dropped from rudy’s mouth, and he pushed around the corpse, trying to get every last lick of blood off the fur. he had to find more.
he wove in and out of trees, shrubs, and across mounds of snow, stepping lightly across frozen streams and ponds. he found many squirrels, a couple raccoons, a few rabbits, and a fox who put up a fight. he saw a bear in the distance at one point, but he hadn’t tried to take down anything larger than he was, let alone something that big that could fight back, so he steered clear. that was a fight for another day. 
it was a good night so far: he had eaten enough that he didn’t feel stomach pains from hunger, and his rush to find more to eat had slowed.
he was about to turn around, when he caught a whiff of something on the air; something he hadn’t smelled before. it smelled of crispness, of fresh apples, of snow. it smelled alive. slowly, rudy followed the smell through the woods, wondering what this animal could be, and if he would be able to take it down. it smelled delicious.
the trees started to thin, finally giving way so all rudy could see was an expanse of snow.  just past the last few trees stood a tall pole. the smell was strong and seemed to be wafting from the pole, so rudy trotted over, his fangs popping out. he investigated the pole, wondering what the smell could be and where it was coming from. 
suddenly, a rush of air, the pole disappeared, and a group of deer appeared in its place. at first, rudy was confused, but the smell was overpowering, making him crazy with hunger. his instincts took over and he felt his own consciousness slipping away as he went from one deer to the next, first bringing them all down, then doubling back and draining the blood from their bodies, getting as much of the blood as possible into his mouth. 
when finished, he stepped back and looked at the bodies lying in the snow, blood specks surrounding them. his consciousness flooded back to him as he focused on what he had done. it was a lot, and finally, he was sated. whatever these deer were, they had done what he had been searching for since his change.
he heard a rustling behind him. he had smelled nothing on the air, which was odd. rudy whipped his head around to see what animal was there to witness his doings.
it was a man with a large, white beard in a leather jacket trimmed with fur, standing in the snow and pointing an uzi at him. 
“rudolph the red-nosed reindeer. we meet again.”
the last thing rudy saw were silver bullets coming his way. his reindeer games were over.