Life in the Cheese Drawer

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

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.

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.

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.

 

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