A Christmas Story From Our House
NightMist
OK we celebrate Yule, but the sentiment is similar...
It happened long ago on a christmas eve in the old strange house. The
night had become bitter cold as the feeble sun had been pushed from
the sky by the foreboding clouds. A brief spattering of rain became
sleet, covering everything with a clear coating of ice, and the
branches of the trees looked as if they'd been dipped in glass. Then
had come the snow, adhering to the fresh ice and adding a thick
coating of hoarfrost to the dark barren limbs. Finally the sky had
cleared. The night was moonless, but the stars glittered with their
cold hard light as the wind rose..
But inside the old strange house, there was merriment of a sort as the
assorted denizens made their last minute holiday preparations.
The man-eating creeping vine shaped it's lethal blossoms in it's best
imitation of poinsetta blooms as it writhed through the rafters,
hoping against hope to perhaps get a bite of a postman making a
last-minute delivery. The moat rats tried to sleep early, dreams of
bits of plum pudding and crumbs of dirty cheese from the floor after
the christmas feast dancing in their heads. Something crept from the
attic window to hide behind the dormer of the north side of the attic,
lurking, waiting.. No-one knew just what it was, and nobody really
wanted to get close enough to find out for sure.
Candles guttered fitfully in the normally dark empty windows, as
smokey fires snarled and spat in fireplaces that were usually cold and
inactive.
Various creatures bustled to and fro, scuffling over bits of brightly
coloured paper and shreds of ribbon to wrap their little gifts to each
other.. Death threats were repeatedly exchanged regarding the custody
of the scissors and scotch tape.
The cooks roared and scuffled down in the kitchens, the ovens
releasing sudden belches of heat and strange spices that wandered the
halls like ghosts.
In short, it was as jolly a christmas as the old strange house had
seen in centuries.. and anticipation fluttered through the air as
fleet and startling as flocks of bats. Everyone and everything in the
old strange house was busy maniacally preparing for the holiday.
Well, almost everyone and everything. Binky the skull hung in his
little steel cage over the hallway, doing what he usually did.
Grinning down over the passageway and occassionally letting out a soft
crazed laugh as the wind blew through the space where his brains had
once been, uncounted years ago. Binky's place was high up in the
shadows of the rafters, and only an occassional bat or tendril of the
man-eating clinging vine ever ventured up near him. But that never
bothered Binky, and in all his many years hanging from the rafter over
the hallway of the old strange house, Binky had never complained. Not
even once.
So on that christmas eve, like any other night, Binky hung alone up in
the chill dark, grinning and occassionally laughing his soft crazed
laugh.
Slowly the old strange house quieted down as assorted creatures placed
gifts under the tree and finished other preparations and settled down
for a long winter's nap. Eventually, not a creature was stirring..
least of all the moat rats, who had gone to bed extra early. Well,
not a creature except for Binky.
Binky never slept because he never needed to. Binky was one of the
house's "watch wyrds". A watch-wyrd is some sort of a creature,
usually dead (in the usual sense of the word), who watches over an
entryway or hall or door and shrieks or cackles or speaks a grim
warning when trespassers venture near. They are made in such a way
that they never need rest or sleep, since it would interfere with
their usual job. Rather obvious why they don't sleep, and I apologize
for boring such a bright group of children by explaining something so
plainly self-evident, but it helps make this story a little longer.
In any case.. Finally the only creature still awake in the strange old
house was Binky the skull, and he was whiling away the hours in his
usual way, swinging a bit with the drafts and breezes in the hallway,
doing the occassional mad laughter (but softly, since he knew everyone
else was asleep and Binky always tried to be considerate).
Then he heard a sound.. It was very soft and distant at first, barely
audible through wind that howled low around the eaves of the old
strange house. A high ringing, as of many tiny bells being rung at
once. Binky might have thought that he was going mad and imagining
things, except of course he was already quite insane by any normal
standard as *all* watch wyrds generally are.. (Again, I apologize for
explaining the obvious to all the smart children listening, but we
don't want the story too short, now do we?).
Anyway, as I was saying.. the sound grew gradually louder until
finally there were a series of thumps on the roof and the ringing
sound stopped. Binky's supernaturally keen hearing detected bootsteps
in the house. Strange boot steps. Binky delighted, anticipating
being able to shriek and frighten off a treaspasser.
Then the trespasser came into view, and Binky was puzzled. It was a
small heavyset gentleman with a long white beard and wearing a red
suit and carrying a large sack on his back. "Perhaps some sort of a
robber?" thought Binky.. But then he noted the stranger wasn't taking
objects from the house and putting them in the sack.. He was taking
objects out of the sackand leaving them around the house. Mostly
small objects, some wrapped and some not. Binky didn't keep up on
current events too well, but he was fairly sure that robbers took
things rather than leaving them.. So He watched the little old man
wandering up and down the hallway, quietly going in and out of the
doors.
Finally, the old man was almost under Binky's place in the hall. He
looked up, right at Binky, chuckled and said "You would be Binky
then?". Binky almost blinked with surprise (in fact, he probably
would have if he had any eyelids.. and again, many apologies to the
smart children listening, who are quite aware of a skull's inability
to blink). Binky was in shock. So he did the only thing he could
think to do at the moment. Years of waiting for a trespasser to
terrify with an unearthly shriek flashed before his eye-sockets as he
opened his mouth and... and.... said "Err.. yes? I'm Binky.."
The old man nodded and chuckled and laid a finger aside of his nose
and gave a nod and rose into the air.. He levitated higher, until he
was floating right at Binky's eye level. "Right then.." The old
gentleman said.. "So what do you want for christmas, Binky?"
Binky opened his mouth, shut it again.. paused.. then said "What do I
want? I don't understand. Who are you?
The old man chuckled again. "I am known by assorted names in
different places.. Saint Nicholas, Pere Noel, Father Christmas, Santa
Claus.. I fly around the world in a sleigh drawn by magic flying
reindeer on Christmas eve, bringing presents to good little boys and
girls. You are on my 'nice' list this year, and so I need to know
what present you would like me to give you." He paused and smiled
benignly.. "You *have* been a good boy this year?", he chuckled.
"I.. uh.. well... " Binky stammered, "Am I a boy? I don't really
recall. I died a very long time ago, you know.. I *guess* I've been..
good?"
"Righty right, then.." said Santa. He took out a pencil and read from
a long list on a rolled piece of paper.. "Here it is.. Binky was a
good little.." Santa paused to cross something out and scribble
something in "Skull.. this .. year. Right." He rolled the list up
and tucked it into a coat pocket. "So what would you like as a
present, Binky? How about.. A train set?"
Binky considered the suggestion, then spoke, being areful to phrase it
politely.."I don't know where I'd put one. There isn't really room up
here for a train set, I don't think."
Santa nodded and thought for a moment. The he looked up and grinned.
"I know! How about a BB gun?"
Binky thought for a few seconds, then replied "I don't think so. I
couldn't shoot my eye out anymore, but I don't have hands, so I
couldn't really shoot anything with it."
"Hmm.." Santa thought hard for a moment.. Then he looked up and
beamed.."Oh, I know!" Santa grinned broadly "How about.. a PUPPY?"
Binky shivered with terror.."A puppy Santa???? But I'm a skull! A
skull is a BONE! A puppy would *not* be a very good christmas present
for a bone!"
Santa nodded, abashed.. "Hmmm Quite so, I see your point. Sorry."
There was an awkward moment of silence as Santa muttered to himself,
listing various possibilities and shaking his head as he saw problems
with each of them.. "Ball? No... Jumprope? Definitely not.. Toy
drum? No, no.."
Santa looked up and snapped his fingers, smiling.. "It's drafty and a
bit chilly up here.. How about a nice warm scarf? Eh? Wouldn't that
be nice?"
"No neck, Santa.." Binky shook his head sadly.. "I think there's just
nothing that could be a christmas present for me, Santa.. But don't
worry about me, go on to the other good boys, girls, and skulls before
the night is over.."
Santa looked up sharply, his jaw taking a determined set. "We do NOT
give up that easilly, little boy.. err. little skull.." Suddenly his
face brightened as an idea struck him.. He chuckled and reached into
his sack, drawing out a red stocking cap just like his own.. "How
about THIS? Hmm?"
Binky grinned. (I apologize to all the smart shildren out there who
are even now whispering 'but a skull *always* grins.. How could anyone
tell a difference?' and I justify the expression under 'poetic
license')..As I was saying, Binky grinned.. "THAT.. Would ROCK,
Santa!"
And so, now you know the story.. and if you find yourself in the
hallways of a strange old house late on some chrismas eve, and you see
a skull hanging in a cage up near the rafters wearing a bright red
"Santa" hat, you'll know who it is and you can yell "Hi Binky!"
Bet he'll be surprised!
The End.
creative commons copyright by Daniel M. Bemis, attribution required
for use, for profit use by permission of the author only
--
Legolas is my house elf
Dark Phoenix
I made a Santa hat for my biggest skull a few years ago... I guess I'll have
to call him 'Binky' now!
--
Laurie Brown, Dark Phoenix
dark_p...@netw.com
http://www.associatedcontent.com/user/103910/laurie_brown.html
"To destroy the Western tradition of independent thought, it is not
necessary to burn books. All we have to do is leave them unread for a couple
of generations."
--Robert Maynard Hutchens.