The Dark Somnium - I was taken to a Dark Winter Wonderland

Episode Date: April 7, 2024

Happy holidays everyone! this creepypasta scary story is was written by pageturner, make sure to check out her other work here: https://dubbedemotions.wordpress.com/ Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

This is just for the outcasts. If you weren't a loser, freak, nerd, or geek, then you wouldn't understand anyway. For example, if you thought any of those words were insults, then that's a good sign you don't belong here. I know, I know, that's not a phrase you're used to hearing, but don't worry. It's just this once, at least for you. For some of us, it's just a simple fact of our everyday lives. I'm only 16, but it didn't take long to notice. I was always the odd man out.

Why? Well, a large part of it is the sad fact that I'm ugly. That's fine with me. I can own it. It's not my fault I have big ears, a crooked nose, and small eyes. I work out three times a week. I have excellent hygiene, and I have the highest GPA in my class, but that doesn't fix my face. The sad truth is that I walk into most interactions with an automatic first strike before I can even speak.

The second strike comes from the fact that I have one of the most severe cases of social anxiety that you will ever encounter. If there are more than three people in a room, I will immediately become so nervous that I lose the ability to speak, which is a large part of why we're doing this virtually. Third strike often happens without me realizing. I'll eventually miss enough social cues for the other person to become openly aggravated, at which point they'll inevitably bring the conversation to an abrupt close. I then spent several weeks replaying the interaction in my mind, hoping to pinpoint exactly where I went wrong.

But it is the very definition of an exercise in futility. Look, I promise, you don't want to be here any more than I want you here. Just go ahead and sign off so the rest of us can get on with our night. Please? This is kind of a hard story to tell, and I'm having the worst Christmas of my life. Oh, okay, they're gone. Now we can get down to business. Hi, I'm Seth, and I really appreciate you while being here.

You don't know me, and I don't know you, but we are the same. A lot of what I'm going to say will sound unbelievable, and I know people like us tend to be extra suspicious, but try not to pass judgment until you've heard the full story, okay? That's all I ask. Okay, first I'd like to start with a little background about myself. I have a feeling you and I are going to share a lot in common, and it's important to understand and were all on the same side. Well, we've already covered my appearance.

Obviously, school was a nightmare, but the bullies were literal criminals. If I had been in a larger school, or even had one teacher that cared, these guys would have been expelled. Maybe worse. Unfortunately, my small town only has one public school and two private schools to choose from, and I went to the most expensive option. My parents were always working, so we didn't spend much time together. But they never had a problem opening their wallets, even if it was for stuff I didn't want.

They'd buy me almost anything, unless it was an hour of their time. I also had a six-year-old sister named Tara. She was a huge pain, but she had her moments, and I miss her. Anyway, as I was saying, going to the most expensive school in an already small community is by no means of brag. We had pre-K through 12th grade all on one campus, but there's only two. 20 or 25 kids in each. Plus, most of us have been together for our entire lives, so there's never an embarrassment

forgotten. Just last week, I was reminded of the time in first grade when I wet my pants while Lane Bradford shoved my face in a toilet, and that doesn't even scratch the surface of what he and his cronies did to me over the years. They've hated me since the first day of preschool. There are hundreds of minor transgressions not worth repeating, and countless more that are still too painful to share. The Santa Claus incident, for example.

It's fairly small, but relevant to why we're here, so I'll start with that. Since I was an especially lonely kid, I had a harder time letting go of Santa Claus than my classmates. In third grade, they unanimously decided that we were all too old to believe in him. They had also claimed that jumping from the monkey bars with an umbrella would slow my fall, but guess what? I still broke my ankle. Earlier that same year, they said showing someone the middle finger meant peace. So I flipped off our teacher.

At least that one didn't physically hurt. On its own. On its own, that was actually pretty funny, but piled in with the rest, it's just exhausting. And those are just two brief examples. And can you really blame me for not believing them? I thought they were trying to trick me, so I wouldn't get any presents. And I said as such, Santa was real. My mind was set, and I died on that hill. That evening, the truth poured out of me at dinner, and, seeing the trouble my belief in Santa had caused, my parents decided it was time to come clean. My very soul shattered at the realization of what I had done, and I'm still reminded of this incident every holiday season. Yet, it still wasn't until the paintball war that I actually accepted.

I was never going to make friends at school. One thing to know about Lane is that his grandfather has done extremely well in the oil industry, and the Bradford's a love to flunk. their wealth. They have a giant house with lots of land out in the country, including a paintball field in the woods. It has tree stands, bunkers, everything you would see in an actual park. For Lane's 11th birthday, our entire class received invitations to play Capture the Flag. I could be especially naive in those days, but I really didn't see this one coming.

I mean, the whole class was invited, and I had never actually gotten use of my paintball gun for anything more than target practice. I wanted to play a real game so badly. Mom dropped me off at 10 that morning. I knocked on the door, but the only answer I received was a muffled voice, yelling something about a sign. In my excitement, I had completely missed the piece of paper tape next to the door. There, in large, bold print, were the words, Do not knock, with instructions for partygoers

to proceed to the back. A stone pathway led me around the house, and through a tall privacy fence, where Lane's older brother, David sat by the pool with his girlfriend. At first, they seemed to be the only ones there, but I was soon directed to keep going. After much further than expected, I found myself at the top of a steep hill, where the land dipped into a giant bowl, with the tree line forming its other side. Tables were lined at the bottom, where the other kids stood, gathered around the presents and refreshments.

Cupcakes and pre-cut slices of Brit-day cake lined two of the tables, with drinks on a third. There was even a porta-potty on the opposite side of the field. I was a bit nervous to learn that David and his girlfriend were our only chaperones, especially because they definitely couldn't see us from the pool. But I was allowed to sit and eat peacefully through the first stage of the party, and that softened my guard. What really bolstered my confidence was Brittany Lawrence, the girl I used to like. She brought me a cupcake and sat right next to me while we ate them. She didn't even have to speak.

Her presence alone was enough to lull me into a false sense of security. Just as we finished them, it was finally time to play. We started at the center of the paintball field, where I thought we would pick teams, but Lane announced we wouldn't be playing Caps the Flag after all. We were actually going to play Goose Hunt. The rules were pretty simple. One of us would play the goose while the rest were hunters. Do you want to guess who the goose was?

Yeah, me. But only for the first round. They swore. Well, technically that was true, because there was only one round. They were going to make me do it anyway, so I played along to save myself a little grief. There was only one direction to run, and I took it. I couldn't see it at the time, but they were clearly corraling me toward their trap. They stayed right beside me and behind me so that I could only run in one direction, towards

what should have been the Blue Team Base. It was maybe ten yards ahead, and I feared they meant to corner me. in the bunkhouse, but it was so much worse. While passing a large tree, my feet were suddenly ripped out from under me as a giant net lifted me high into the air. The other kids cheered with roaring laughter. There were shouts of, oh my God, it worked, and yes, he dropped his gun. Then I distinctly heard Elaine's voice ask.

How long has it been? A fresh wave of laughter drowned out any reply, and a hail of paintballs pelted me from every direction. At first, they just stung a little, like dozens of bees attacking me at once, but then those stings turned to punches, and then the punches eventually fell numb. I tried not to cry, but couldn't help the choking gasp that came between sobs. When they finally grew tired of shooting me, I was a dripping, rainbow-colored glob of paint, and my clothes felt 50 pounds heavier. It would have been much worse had I not worn my pads and helmet, but every exposed inch of my body was covered in dark bruises by the next day.

One question came through loud and clear again. Lane asked. How long has it been now? I still didn't hear the answer, but I had to assume that they were afraid of being caught. There was a sense of relief as I imagined hearing an adult's voice in the distance. I would be saved, and those bastards would be punished. But before I could fantasize further, the laughter and chatter fell silent, and Lane called up to me. Hey, Skittles, how was that cupcake anyway?

My heart sank with the realization that they must have done something disgusting to the cupcake Britney gave me, and I braced myself for the worst while a fresh wave of laughter died down. Only when he had everyone's full attention did he continue. I thought the chocolate chunks were especially fantastic. How about you? What was your favorite part? When I didn't respond, he shot me in the ass, and the throbbing intensified to an almost unbearable level.

Hello. I asked you a question. Lane called up, clearly very pleased with himself. Terrified of being hit again, but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a real response, I tried. Damn it, Lane, just tell me what you did to it and cut me down. I think this stupid net broke my wrist. That drew a few concerned whispers and a long pause from Lane that made me think he was

actually reconsidering. But then he called me a liar and said. Don't worry. The cupcake will tell you what happened any minute now. His words earned the loudest burst of laughter yet, and my mind erased to decipher his meaning. I didn't think they were quite dumb enough to poison me on purpose, but what they might have given me by mistake made me very nervous. Though it felt much longer, there was probably only a five-minute wait before my stomach suddenly bubbled with an all-too-familiar sensation, and I instantly understood what was happening. In my excitement over Brittany,

I had hardly noticed the chocolate chunk shoved beneath the cupcakes icing, and remembered once seeing a commercial for X-Lax in the form of chocolate bars. For the most part, I'd kept my face covered for protection, but here I'd chance a quick glance down. While I was relieved to see all the guns discarded by their owners, that relief was quickly replaced by an even stronger dread than before. My classmates had upgraded to an even crueler weapon, their phones. By the time it was over, it would take a hosy.

using three showers and a bath to fully rid myself of the stench. The first of which took place at Lane's house. Afterwards, he threatened to post his video on YouTube if I told anyone what really happened, and I was so afraid that I never spoke of it until now. I wish I could say that was the worst thing they ever did to me, but it's really not. In eighth grade, I clicked on something stupid that allowed them into my laptop, and they used my webcam to record me doing stuff for weeks before they shared any of the the footage.

I never felt safe on that computer again and had to get a new one. Now I keep a piece of tape over the camera and refuse to click on any links. That one might be the worst, but I'm torn between it and freshman year when they slipped Viagra into my drink. It kicked in during six-period and, well, I couldn't even talk about it in therapy, so I'm definitely not going to start here. But many new pictures were taken as I awkwardly tried to hide behind my books. By the end of class, I couldn't even stand up straight without intense pain.

They didn't even know how much to give me, so they erred on the side of more. I ended up in the ER, and since it couldn't be proven that the kids actually drugged me, nothing happened to anyone. Well, story of my life. Literally. For the record, things haven't been much better this year. I recently got two flats on the way home, because someone unscrewed the air caps from my tires and wedged like a little rock in the tube thing so that it would slowly leak air.

The air slowly leaked out as I drove, and by the time I realized something was wrong, it was too late to reach anywhere useful. Since there was only one donut, I was stranded on the side of the road until Dad could bring an extra spare. It's just such an endless list of bullshit, and I'm sure you all have impressive lists of your own. But I'm here to tell you that there's a way out. You can have new lives far away from this sorry hellhole. and I'm here to prove it to you. But first, I need to tell you about a strange elf I met at the mall. The weekend after Thanksgiving, my parents insisted that I'd take Tara to see Santa.

When we got to the mall, there were at least 100 people ahead of us, and more families were entering close behind. Their steps began to quicken, and I knew what they were going to try to do. Well, not today, Satan. I grabbed Tara's hand, and we sprinted to get in line first. An elf was handing out candy bars with giant bows to the newcomers and apologizing for the wait. At first, I thought it was a little person, but after seeing his face, I realized it was just a kid in a weird costume. He looked exactly like one of the elves from the Santa Claus movies with Tim Allen.

Though instead of the usual green elf attire we see in the malls, he wore regular Santa's hat with a red long-sleeved shirt, tipped with a giant, pointy green collar shaped like mistletail. He had incredibly bright, hazel-colored eyes, the almost looked orange, and the worst case of baby face you ever saw. When he got to us, he greeted Tar and with a cheery, Here you go, kid. Merry Christmas. As he handed her the treat, they shared a brief exchange before he turned to me and shoved

one of the candy canes into my hands as well, adding, You get a special one. With a sly wink. Before I could say anything in return, he was already moving into the next group. And Tara was asking me to open her candy. Hers was just a candy cane, but mine had a plain, white business card beneath the bow. On the front were the words, Outcast, rescue, and Relocation Campaign, and centered on the back was Tinsel with 555-2425 beneath it.

Totally confused, I turned around to catch the kid on his next pass, but he was gone. When we finally got to the front of the line, I asked about him, but the lady running the camera said they didn't hire anyone to play an elf. Not knowing what to make of that, I threw away our candy canes, but couldn't part with the business card. It was partly curiosity, because what the hell, right? But there was something else nagging at me. The whole thing felt almost familiar.

Not deja vu exactly, more like a certainty that I was supposed to have it. Sure, I admittedly felt crazy for thinking it. But hey, apparently I wasn't. I shoved the kid's card into my jacket pocket until after dinner that night. Looking at it for the second time, I thought over the strange words yet again, but still had no inclination of what it could mean. Google gave me nothing, not even from the phone number. Out of ideas, I opened my messages and sent a text saying, Who are you?

Why did you give me this card? My phone automatically declines any number not saved in my contacts, so missed call notifications started to appear almost immediately. While debating whether or not to call him back, my message alert sounded. He responded with a voice text, and his tone was calm, but clearly impatient. Call. It's said to call. Look, this is not a conversation to have in writing.

You understand? I will assume you are answering in the affirmative and kindly request that you return my call at once. It all felt oddly business-like. Shady as hell, but most of them are. Feeling rushed, I panicked. I have a habit of doing that and sent a second text. I'm sorry, I can't.

My parents are in the other room, and I'm supposed to be in bed. I'll call you on my way to school tomorrow. The regret was instant, not that I lied, but that I had committed myself to making a call in the morning. I'm not really very good at them. It feels like I'm on the spot, and I don't have time to think before I speak. When I'm really nervous, I'll pick up my old stutter, and then things go really downhill. Of course, I was also plain terrified of his response.

I was actually in the middle of telling myself off for being afraid of some scrawny kid that was a full two feet shorter than me when he began tapping at my window. I barely refrained from screaming. I didn't know how he found my house or how he got up to the second floor window. We didn't have any lattice work or trees, and the gutters wouldn't have held his weight. He wasn't that small. Open up, pal, or this tapping is going to get louder. His placating tone reminded me of when Dad would threaten us by counting to three.

The fact that he still wore his elf costume with the funny tights didn't help the creepy factor either. It was bad enough he randomly appeared so late at night, but he looked like some gesture plucked out of medieval times. Only when his tapping actually grew louder did I snap out of my dumbfounded trance and hurry to the window, shushing him all the way. As soon as I got it open, he stepped inside and removed his hat with a polite bow. Hello, Seth. I am Tinsal Elf from Holly Ward III, at your service.

And might I add that it is so very nice to formally make your acquaintance? He smiled unexpectedly with his hands clasped before him. Um, hi, hi, tinsel, that's a neat name. The rest of my words fell dead on my lips as I noticed his large, pointed ears. They weren't fake. The light of my standing lamp just behind him illuminated his veins inside their fleshy casings. I couldn't help but stare. Well, we will need to work on those manners, but I will excuse it while you adjust to my presence.

It is often difficult for the older ones re-accepted magic into their lives, after all." He began looking around my room as he spoke, occasionally picking up a random object for closer examination. His voice was a little unsettling to hear. His tone was never rude or taunting. He was nothing, if not polite, but it clearly conveyed his certainty of superior intelligence. Uh, thanks. That's really cool of you. So, uh, what exactly are you? Anyway, If you don't mind my asking, he stopped his examination of my frame Stan Lee autograph and turned back with a wide smile. Ah, I see you're not completely without manners. How lovely. And of course, you're curious. It's only natural. Come, come, have a seat. I will tell you all about myself.

Tinsel pulled out my desk chair, spinning it in my direction, and I was grateful for an excuse to get off my shaky legs. Though it should be obvious by my attire, I am one of Santa's elves. In fact, I am responsible for the Outkask Rescue and Relocation Campaign, or O-R-R-C for short. You see, too long has our dear St. Nicholas been forced to witness the suffering of so many like yourself. You are the Outcast's Outcast, completely isolated from the rest of your peers. If you went missing, how long would it take for your parents to notice? Until they needed you to taxi that sweet sister of yours, no doubt. Does that sound about right, pal?

I guess so. But about the elf thing? No, no, no, no, no. Don't guess. Think, boy, think. Or has this broken society robbed you of the ability to assess situations and formulate conclusions? Tensel began pacing excitedly. No?

Answer me this. Why do you stay here when you are so unhappy? Tensel's intense stare only worsened my anxiety. Where else would I go? I'm only 16. To the North Pole. With me. Any other outcasts?

You would be perfect as a peacekeeper. Oh, come now, don't look so surprised. We don't allow actual crows. criminals into our community. Oh, my, no. Our selection process is much too rigorous for such lapses. However, it's true that any group of people will have their disagreements. But this is especially true for children. We just need some of the older kids, like yourself, to serve as a mediator during these minor conflicts. His smile grew inhumanly wide, and his pacing came to a stop inches from where I sat. I suddenly had a frighteningly vivid image of my picture appearing on the morning

news, next to some pretty reporter standing in front of the yellow crime scene tape around my house. Her words played so clearly in my mind that I almost believed Tinsall really had escaped from some psych ward under the belief he was an elvish Peter Pan. Now he wanted me to be one of his lost boys, and I definitely wasn't feeling it. When people are taken hostage in movies, the ones that play along with their kidnappers seem to have the highest survival rate, so I tried to sound interested and grateful when speaking. Uh, can I have a tour of the place before deciding? Or is this more of a never or forever type thing? Though I freely admit that detecting sarcasm from humans is not my forte, I believe that question was dripping with it. Yes? I understand. I should have

begun with the more pressing issue. How can I expect you to give serious consideration to an offer you are inherently incapable of believing. Forgive me and please accept the following demonstration as my credentials and positive proof that magic is real. Tinsel removed his hat with another sweeping bow, only this time he left it off. Holding it upside down like a sack, he invited me to look inside, and I saw that small Santa hat was quite empty. With a wink, he reached his hand deep inside, past his elbow, and brought out a handful

of candy canes. Wait, I can tell by your face that's not enough. Tossing the peppermint treats aside, he handed me the hat and reached in with both arms, this time submerging them all the way to his shoulders. I could feel the fabric expanding beneath my trembling hands, but I couldn't see it actually happening. The noises it made were equally impossible. It sounded like he was rifling through a junk door filled with glass and metal.

When he finally found the item he was searching for, he gave a satisfied... And pulled out a sparkling red electric guitar. I don't know much about music, but it looked very expensive. There you are. Now do you believe magic is real? And that my offer is genuine? Wearing a proud smile, Tin handed me the guitar for inspection. It was more than four times the size of the hat and completely real.

I didn't know what to say. This wasn't the usual rabbit from a hat trick. This was straight up Mary Poppin's shit. Oh, okay, okay. That would be pretty hard to fake, I guess. I began, but Tinsel was quick to interrupt. Excuse me? What do you mean, I guess?

What does it take to impress your generation? Do I have to change my entire fashion? As he said this, his face began to age. His pointed ears doubled in length, and his eye colored deepened to a brilliant orange. I flailed backwards in shock, flipping my chair over in the process, and instinctively scrambled beneath my desk in terror. But when I next looked at Tinsel, he had returned to normal.

There we go. That should do the trick. He bent over, hands on his knees, head turned sideways, staring at me curiously. You okay there, pal? Need a hand? Before he could reach out, I hustled to my feet, not particularly wanting to be touched. Nope, no, I'm good. I'm fine, thanks, no worries. It's all good. So, magic, you say? Okay, uh, okay.

Whoa there. Take some deep breaths, champ. Everything is fine. Tinsel moved closer to pat me on the back. I assumed he meant it as a comforting gesture, but he's much stronger than he looks, or realizes, and I fell forward across my desk. Oops, sorry. Your kind is so delicate. He added apologetically, with a few extremely light pats on the back. You, you, you want to take me to the North Pole? It was a struggle, but I finally got the words out of my mouth. Well, sure, you'd be perfect for our little community. That's what I've been saying.

Too good to be true. What's the catch? Jeez, kid, you're not selling your soul for wealth and fame. It's this Santa Claus. They call him old St. Nick for a reason. He just wants to give children like you a better life. Though some of the kids enjoy volunteering in the workshop, and we always welcome the extra help, but it's not expected.

Everyone pulls their own weight for the community, like your duties as a peacekeeper, for example. But it's not like you're going to work in the minds. He said this as if it were the most ridiculous notion in the world. Before I could exert too much brainpower over how to reply, I suddenly noticed a tall, looming figure standing. against the center of my back wall, watching us. It had a thin white beard long enough to lay pooled on the floor, and it wore a deep maroon-colored cloak, with a hood pulled low over its eyes.

But as I sat watching, the wall suddenly receded several miles in the span of a few seconds, creating an empty, extended hallway that felt like something you would see in a nightmare funhouse, At the opposite end, which somehow appeared both impossibly distant and mere inches away, the figure lifted its pure white, fleshless skeletal arm to beckon me with a bony finger. And then I blinked and it all disappeared. Tensel and I were quite alone in my room, and he showed me no indication of having noticed in other presence. He merely continued to stare expectantly.

Like so much else that had happened, I didn't know what to make of it. More than anything, I needed to think. If I said yes, what would happen? Would we leave now or... Oh, cringles, no! Being an elf comes with a few magical perks, but teleporting isn't one of them. I flew here on Delilah, my reindeer, and she certainly wouldn't appreciate carrying a bunch of extra passengers. The new meet...

I mean, you'll meet the other new members on Christmas morning when the big guy brings his sleigh. then we can all ride home together. When I leave here, you will not see me again until Christmas morning. That is how long you will have to ensure your affairs are in order. What if I say yes, but change my mind later? You may change your mind as often as you like until the moment you board the sleigh. From that point forward, the decision will be final. Yes, this can seem harsh, which is another reason we offer an extended period of contemplation,

but it is most assuredly necessary. Should you disappear and return a year later, or ten? Or a hundred? Questions would be asked. Awkward questions, which you could not answer. Tinsel paused, pulling a bottle of eggnog from his hat and drinking deeply. A hundred years? Do humans have a longer life expectancy up there? Well, the short answer is technically, yes, I suppose. You see, the North Pole is a beautiful land,

but it's not the friendliest of habitats in which to lay one's hat. Not without us, anyway. Within Santa's Village, our collective magic creates a kind of barrier between ourselves and the outside world. Many things you would consider impossible are made quite possible by the natural side effects of our gathering, one of which being that humans residing within our domain cease to age. He recited these things as a teacher might, and then he reached back into his hat for a bag of popcorn. Excuse my manners. Would you like some? He held the snack out, but I declined.

strangely enough my appetite wasn't the biggest. Okay, the ten or a hundred years thing is pretty fair, but one year? People disappear and reappear all the time. That's as far as I got before Tensel interjected. Ah, that comes with its own set of difficulties, and our number one concern must always be to the preservation of our community and the protection of its citizens. It is true that no one would believe your story, even if you return to tell it, But what if a dozen kids from all over the world share the same story?

Or two dozen? How many would it take before curious minds began to wonder? The air felt tense with his lingering question, but instantly lightened as he finished his eggnog and threw the bottle into the bin on the other side of the room. His words made sense. They didn't make me feel any better about being faced with a life-altering decision at 16, but they made sense. Sure, I had two weeks to decide, but only once.

to ask questions, and every answer only bred more mysteries. But how many outcasts were in this community, and what percentage of them still wanted to be there? If I asked, would I get an honest answer? How could I know if anything he said was true? The only thing he actually proved was that he owned a magical hat. So many things, but I asked none of them. Instead, I wanted to know, Does this magical paradise also come with electricity and running water?

Outhouses are a deal breaker. Wait, what about TV? I have clearly failed to explain properly. Yes, it is a modern community with modern housing and modern amenities. But you cannot communicate with the outside world. You may view its television, use its products, and eat its food, but you will never communicate with your friends or family again. If you make a call, send a message or leave a comment, it won't go through.

Again, I could have asked any of the questions from before, but I didn't. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind. The way I suffered at the hands of my peers prominent among them. Yet, try as I might, my lips would not shape a single word other than, I'll do it. Excellent news indeed. You'll be very happy in your new home. See you in two weeks? Whoa, hang on, you're just leaving like that?

Well, I hate to be rude, but there are other invitations to deliver. If you have any other questions, I'm happy to answer them, but... How much stuff can I bring? Even given the extra opportunity, I choked. It's impossible to explain what was going through my mind, but there was an extremely thick layer of bad memories playing on a loop, and all of my conscious thoughts were trapped beneath them, drowning. Whatever you can carry, you'll be allowed to bring one bag onto the sleigh.

And dress warmly. Tinsel made his way back to the window, and I did nothing to stop him. All right. Thanks, you know, for everything. My outer voice stuttered pathetically, while my inner voice continued to choke on endless waves of resentment. I watched the elf leave without another word between us. For what it's worth, I don't think any question would have made a difference anyway. Only I had no way of knowing that.

As it was, I spent. every waking second of the next two weeks changing my mind. But deep down, I always knew I was going. There were just too many sleepless nights and broken hearts to stay. So many times throughout my life I fantasized about running away. Sometimes I imagined stealing a bunch of money and going on the run. Other times it was the sudden development of mutant powers or discovering that my parents had actually kidnapped me.

Occasionally I was an alien. It just depended on that day's mood, and never, not once did I picture hitching a ride on Santa's sleigh. But there was one thing that all my fantasies did have in common, and that was revenge. No matter if I was angry or sad, whether it was because of my family or the kids at school, I could never imagine leaving without writing a few wrongs. But once the opportunity became a reality, there was nothing I wanted to do less. There were so many genuinely important things to do that revenge just.

just felt like a colossal waste of time. I still finished my midterms at school. Those first few days after Tintill left were when I flip-flop the most. The next morning I had breakfast with my family and suddenly felt certain I wouldn't be able to leave them. But then I went to school where several kids found clever ways to express their distaste for my sexual preference in goats, which I wasn't even aware of having or an ounceing, but that's what the sign on my back said.

Well, actually, it said I rape goats, but I'm trying to be delicate. Of course, it was Lane who put it there. But thankfully, we only had half days during midterms, so I was home again by lunch. Again, my family would give me doubts about leaving. And again, those doubts were erased the next day when Lane's friends held me down and stripped off my shoes. They tied the laces together and threw them over a power line. Then I had two choices.

I could stay at school until the fire department arrived. or I could forget about the shoes. It wasn't really a difficult choice. I drove home in socks and considered myself lucky to have one day left. It was tame in comparison, hardly worth mentioning, but they tried gluing my ass to the toilet seat. Unfortunately, they're idiots, and it's pretty difficult to glue a human being to anything with Elmer's glue.

It didn't even ruin my pants, just a little more of my dignity. I tried not to let normal things, like my chores, color my decision. But that proved nearly impossible when I was forced to pick up Tar's share just because she was being extra fussy. Things only got worse as the days were on. Being out of school didn't mean that I got to take a break. It only meant that I had to work from home instead. My parents may have been the one to have a second child, but I was the schmuck who had to feed her, play with her, and drive her to ballet. By Christmas Eve, I was packed and ready to go, but, as promised, I hadn't heard a peep from Tinsel since the day he'd

disappeared through my window. As the hour of his return grew near, the whole meeting began to take on a dreamlike quality, and I was almost convinced that the elf didn't even exist. The affair didn't begin to feel real again until the sound of eight reindeer landing on my roof stirred me from a light dose just before 2 a.m. I thought it would wake the whole house, but everyone else remained fast asleep. I ran downstairs to see Tinsel exiting the fireplace with Santa right behind him. The living room glowed dimly from the Christmas tree's colorful lights, giving the pair an eerily ghoulish quality to their appearance. It reminded me of the night I met the elf when the figure in the red robe appeared, and

my room suddenly expanded into a giant hallway. But the thought was just as quickly erased when the overhead lights dispelled the unpleasant images. I hadn't noticed Tinsel turned them on, but I was grateful to see a jolly red-cheek Santa Claus standing by our mantle. He wore the traditional red suit and hat, only much nicer than what you see at the mall. His clothes were made of a thick, plush material and lined with long white fur, as were his black leather boots. The ball at the end of his cap looked like it was just sheared straight from a sheep.

Ha ha ha, ha, see, boss? Look at the size of that bag. I told you this one was good as gone. Tinsel beamed at me proudly. Hell, ho, ho, ho. What do you know? Great work, Tin, top-notch. Santa clapped the small elves back, pushing him forward a few steps.

Though he didn't seem to notice this, he had already refocused his attention onto me. Come on over, my boy. I looked up nervously, frightened he would wake Tara or my parents, but he assured me that wasn't possible. I would never get anywhere without my deep sleep spell. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ho, ho. Fear not, lad. They'll not be waking. He added with a wink.

Oh, cool. Um, thank you for this chance, this opportunity. I mean, I won't let you down. I wanted to sound confident. I had practiced that short statement a hundred times over the previous weeks, but it still came out as a stuttering mess. I still thought there was at least a 50% chance of waking up in a padded cell. But just in case I didn't, I couldn't pass up on an opportunity like that. You better get changed, though you'll freeze to death before we even make it home.

We've still got a solid 12 hours to go, kid. Tinsle said, as Santa dug around in his sack. By the way his arms plunged into the opening, I could tell it operated with the same magic as the elf's hat, which makes sense, considering the number of presents he has to deliver. Uh, they're the warmest clothes I own. We'll wait, 12 hours. But how? Half time zones half magic.

Anytime you have to ask how, the answer is probably magic. Now, get dressed. We're on a schedule, and dear Gwen is waiting all alone. Santa handed me a set of clothes, nearly identical to his own, except they were green instead of red. The baggy pants were held up by black suspenders that were surprisingly comfortable. Even the boots were softer slippers inside. The hat fit comfortably over my ears and somehow remained on my head during the windy sleigh ride.

After leaving a few presents for Tara, Santa went back into the fireplace, where his bag lifted into the air and pulled him up behind it. Once on the roof, he dropped a bright yellow rope, which then pulled up Tinsel and I in the same manner. My jaw actually dropped at the sight of the giant red sleigh and reindeer. It wasn't exactly a sleigh either. At least not the kind you're imagining. It was closer to an old Victorian coach with ski legs instead of wheels, and the driver's seat was also covered. Inside, a pretty girl with dark skin and curly black hair sat staring out at us curiously. But I couldn't help focusing my attention on the eight reindeer, impatiently stamping their feet.

Don't mind them. Santa said, nodding towards the antsy team. They're always nervous around you people, but they'll warm up to you in. No time. Oh, sure. No problem. My words felt forced and awkward, so I tried to say something light and easy about the sleigh. I didn't expect it to be covered, but that makes way more sense.

Super cool. Of course, my boy. Of course. He replied, opening the door to the passenger side and gesturing for me to enter. Inside, two large green cushioned seats faced one another. The girl sat facing the front. compartment, so I took the seat across from her and introduced myself. She was 15 and had been given the same outfit when they picked her up in Boston. We were from completely different worlds,

yet soon felt as if we had known each other our entire lives. Holy shit. Man, when I saw that house, I straight thought you was going to be some little rich asshole, but damn, come on, be real. You really shit your pants in the middle of all the mother kids. She left to her feet. She left to her feet, hitting her head hard on the roof, and we both laughed until we cried. Yeah, well, I guess shit has to be pretty bad to earn a ticket on this flight, so, uh, but what landed you here anyway? Did you get pants in front of the whole school? That happened to me, twice.

Normally, I would want to die for letting something like that slip, but I didn't feel the least bit awkward around her. Oh, you know, the usual. Dad works two jobs because mom doesn't do anything except drink and watch TV while I take care of my half-brothers, their three-year-old twins, and I haven't known a moment's peace since they ruined my life. But it's all good now, ain't it? She slapped my knee playfully and wiped a leftover tear from her cheek before continuing. No, that's not fair. Yo, you told a brutal ass story. You deserve one in return. Okay, I can't believe I'm about to tell you this shit,

But here it goes. I had my first period in seventh grade. It started in the middle of class. Only I didn't understand what was happening. Literally thought I was dying. My dumb ass jumped out of the chair, just stood up in front of everybody, screaming that I needed an ambulance. Oh boy, Mr. Stevens didn't know what to do.

Gwen took a moment to rain in her laughter before continuing. Well, goddamn Brenda Jenkins was quite. quick to teach me a lesson. See, my school wasn't so little. That place had hundreds of kids in each grade. Most of them never bothered learning my name. So when Miss Thang nicknamed me Bloody Mary, it stuck. Then bitches still think my name is Mary, almost three years later.

Oh, shit, that is messed up. I could barely contain my own laughter. Normally, I would have never had the balls to laugh at a girls. Well, you know, any of that. stuff. But this was Gwen. What's really throat is how it got so normal that I started answering to it. Being called the wrong name kind of flies under the radar when it becomes a daily occurrence to have ketchup squirted it on your ass. They'd get me in the hallway and everyone would scream. Call an ambulance. She's dying. She's dying. That's the shit that really pissed me off.

Man, they ruined so many good pairs of pants. She flailed her. arms and imitation of the other kids as she mocked them. I was stunned. Okay, that might top mine. Wow. Seriously, I can't even think of any words to say to that. I just keep seeing the mind-blown emoji in my head and lots of ketchup. At that, we both burst out into another round of tears, but a sudden plunge and altitude

shook us out of our reverie unexpectedly. We were landing on another roof. It seems like it's been a while since we stopped. Was my house the last one in the neighborhood or something? I know there's lots of kids around. I looked out the window to see an unfamiliar neighborhood growing larger below us. I couldn't even tell if we were still in Florida. Now that you mention it, we didn't make that many other stops besides your place.

That's definitely weird. She looked out of her own window as we came to land on a roof that felt like it was on an 80-degree pitch, but only for half a second. Before we could react, the seat shifted. and we were somehow sitting level again, even though the sleigh should have been sliding straight to the ground. I have a feeling this is more of the magic at work. I half muttered to Gwen before shouting up to the front. Hey, why so few? But that was as far as I got.

Hold that thought, my boy. There'll be plenty of time to chat after we've taken care of business. You two sit tight now. One step outside, and it's a long. way down. Santa called as he and Tensel walked casually across the steep roof. Oh, hell no, he didn't. That's some...

This time it was Gwen's turn to be cut off, as we both gasped loudly at the side of Santa and his elf, disappearing down the top of an unusually thin chimney, just visible over the roof's peak. Did you see that? Now that was some fucking magic. Those dudes got sucked down like a goddamn slurpy. Yeah, yeah, I saw that too.

Really wouldn't mind missing a few things at this point, though. My voice was barely audible. Man, I'd kill to have my phone right now. Did they take yours too? I left mine behind. I assumed we couldn't bring them. Huh. We are two very different people.

I packed it without asking so they couldn't say no, but then they knew about it anyway. Said they'd give it back when we got there. Something about keeping the GPS from showing our roots. I don't know. I just want a video of that slurpy shit. I could have brought my phone? Gwen leaned back in her seat and let out a short scream.

Her eyes went wide with fear. Her lips moved, but no other words emerged. She could only point behind me, and a really big part of me didn't want to turn around. Of course, I had to. But all I saw were eight reindeer lazily stamping their hooves or nipping at something in their fur, waiting to take off again. No way. Uh-uh. Tell me you saw that shit.

She was so frightened. I got worried she would try to jump out of the sleigh. Sorry, I didn't see anything. Dude, I don't know what them things are, but they ain't no reindeer. We gotta be cool, just act normal. Gwen tried to force out a laugh like we were having a grand old time. I plastered a smile across my face and did my best to play along. But she had me officially freaked out.

Oh, how's it going? little buddies. Hope you aren't getting bored back there. If we're lucky, you'll have some new friends before too much longer. Santa climbed in and rubbed his hands together over the heater while we waited for Tinsel who had yet to appear. I thought it was a good time to ask why we were making so few stops, but I barely got two words out of my mouth before Gwen kicked me in the shin. What was that, my boy? You'll have to speak up. He turned his head part of the way around, with one hand cut over his ear, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. Oh, he was just asking if there was anything to drink, but I think I have some water in my bag.

Oh, ho, ho! Don't be silly! You can't drink water in Santa's sleigh. Press into the kickplate beneath your seats for some warm cocoa and roasted chestnuts. He laughed as if the very idea of water was the most absurd thing he had ever heard. I couldn't fathom what Gwen saw to make her so afraid of him. Thank you! And immediately opened the hidden compartments. When I removed a still-steaming mug of cocoa, a new one magically reappeared in its place, and Gwen looked at me as if mortified by the idea of drinking it.

By then, Tinsel had returned, albeit less gracefully than Santa. He somehow fell from the chimney top, down the steep roof, and slammed into the side of the sleigh with a sharp smack. I'm getting too old for the shawl. shit. Hey, kids, how's it going back there? Oh, good, you found the cocoa. He didn't wait for any kind of response before turning to Santa for a conversation we couldn't hear. Quick, give me that. Gwen whispered urgently while Santa and Tensel were engrossed with their own conversation. She ripped the cocoa from my grasp, burning both our hands with the overspill. I let go to avoid

further damage and watched with confused dismay as she discreetly poured it out of the window before placing the empty mug into a cup holder. And away we go. Santa called out as the sleigh suddenly launched into the air. If the laws of gravity had applied, I would have been thrown violently into Gwen. Yet somehow I was sucked back to my seat instead, as if we were wearing an invisible restraint. Man, you don't understand.

Whatever them things are, they ain't reindeer. They ain't even alive. They're nothing but skeletons with bits of spoiled meat hanging from their bones. In real. That means them too ain't real. We've been had. She nodded to indicate the pair up front. You sure?

Yet again, I didn't know what to think, let alone say, but I moved to sit next to Gwen so we could keep an eye on the reindeer together. From then on, we paid closer attention to the landscape below. Between each stop, we left hundreds, hip-a-half. if not thousands of quiet houses undisturbed. There was no way to judge the passage of time, but eventually we came to a little trailer park in Lupin's Port, Oregon, where we picked up a ginger kid named Zach, who took my old seat. He was too young to be a peacekeeper, so they offered him a job in the toy factory, which was marked by his royal blue winter suit.

Curious as to how far we were into the twelve-hour estimation, I asked what time we left his house. And to my complete shock, it had been almost three-eight. That was less than an hour, but it felt like we had been gone for at least six. Somehow, time passes differently in the sleigh. Either way, we could barely hold our eyes open by the time Tintill announced. Welcome to Canada, kiddos. Our next landing jerked me out of a light doze, and my eyelids were already drooping again,

as Santa and his little helper shuffled across the snow-covered roof. Come on, man. You got to stay with me. Gwen lightly shook my shoulder, but she sounded equally exhausted. As my eyes opened back wide, I saw them. Zach's head blocked most of the reindeer in the left column, but the rest were exactly as Gwen described. Whatever scraps of flesh remained on them were torn and rotten. Their bones seemed old and deteriorated, like they could fall apart at a moment's notice,

and some were already missing entire limbs or ribs. One turned and began grooming itself to reveal a half-petrued. a gnarled black tongue. I screamed, just as Gwen had before. And just like that, all three of us were wide awake again. We hadn't told Zach about any of that, but we didn't have much of a choice after my freak out. He didn't seem to believe it any more than I had, but why would he? You saw them too, didn't you? I barely registered her triumphant words over my panic attack, but I managed a few frantic nods in her general direction. When I looked back towards the deer, they were normal again.

I wanted to melt into my seat and disappear, but I just couldn't get away. Okay, okay. Deep breaths. I know, I know. Gwen tried to calm me down before Santa and Tinsel returned, but it wasn't necessary. The big red bag was already rising from the chimney top, and there's nothing quite as sobering as the threat of immediate danger. I didn't want to know what they might do if we realized we had seen the real reindeer. I vaguely heard them speaking when they got into the sleigh, but I had fully retreated into

my own little world. What did it mean? Was this guy really Santa? Who else could he be? Where could they be taking us, and why? Zach spent the rest of the ride in silence, unsure whether or not we were screwing with him. He looked like the kind of kid who got messed with a lot. The rest of the ride went by in a blur.

We spent most of our time drifting in and out of consciousness. No matter how hard. But I tried to stay awake, the exhaustion overcame me. Then we would land, and my fear would spike back into overdrive while we were alone with the reindeer. Two other children joined us, and they each spoke different languages, so I couldn't tell you about them, except that the girl wore blue like Zach, and a little boy who looked to be roughly eight or nine who wore purple.

It was shortly after this last kid joined us that I fell into a deep sleep, from which I didn't wake until we were landing in front of a giant red building covered in snow. The runway was lined with red and white striped light poles, topped with crystal globes, but as soon as we touched down, the landing strip was lowered into an underground warehouse. Even though our suits had kept us warm during the trip, the cold air still bit at the delicate skin of our exposed faces, but now that was gone. The space was lit with soft glowing lights that emanated heat like little flames, and a dozen

An elves rushed to our side and began working on the sleigh like a NASCAR pit crew. Like Tinsel, they possessed attractive young faces and wore the same style of clothes, only in different color variations. A slightly taller, but much older elf holding a clipboard, approached Santa directly the moment we all exited the sleigh. Well, kids, welcome to the south. Oh, I mean the North Pole. I have a few things to wrap up here, but Tintzel will take you to get settled in, and I'll see you all again real soon.

Santa gave us a big smile and rushed off before we had a chance to reply, which was now, more than ever, clearly deliberate. My heart sank at a slip of words. The South Pole, is that where they took us? The look on Gwen's face once again confirmed we were thinking the same thing. Follow me, kitties. Time to see your new homes. Tinsel wore his own shitting grin as he led us through the winding aisles created by the endless rows of stacked crates. I didn't know where we were going, but part of me was glad to leave those damned reindeer behind. I think she felt the same, though I also couldn't help worrying that we may very well be walking into something even

worse. But we were well past the point of no return. The only way out was getting to the other side. I was also the oldest and probably strongest person of our group. And let me tell you, that didn't inspire much confidence. Even if the elves were close to Zach's size, I didn't like my odds in a fight. Eventually, we climbed a tall spiral staircase that took us to the warehouse entrance. The open space was enormous. The only crates were stacked against the back walls, and two rows of snowmobiles were lined up in the center. They were all bright, festive colors, and looked like they had been merged with a bunch of golf carts.

The large roller doors were raised halfway to reveal an endless sea of white beneath a light snowfall. Gazing into the distance, it was nearly impossible to distinguish the sky from the ground. Well, it might be a little snug, but we'll all fit in fine. Hop on, kiddos. We'll drop these little ones off first so they can get some shut-eye. Tinsel repeated his instructions twice more to the children who spoke different languages,

and we all piled onto the cart. Gwen and I sat next to each other on the back, while the three younger kids squeezed up in front with Tinsel. We turned right upon exiting the warehouse, and suddenly the empty field was replaced with an entire village of rustic buildings. It reminded me of a town you would see in an old western, except there was snow instead of desert, and elves instead of cowboys. There were more red and white striped light poles lining the roadway, so that it almost seemed like daytime. Yep, this is Cringle Lane right here. We'll be dropping the little ones off on the next block over, but I want to show you something first.

We passed the turn off he indicated for our first stop and continued up a steep hill which led to a lookout tower. Below that was a tall barbed wire fence, and beyond that, a raging blizzard. All around us were light snow flurries. But everything beyond that looked like hell had actually frozen over. Even with our suits and the golf carts heated seats, we were still a little chilly. I couldn't imagine being out in that storm, and that was exactly the point. Yes, sir. That fence is there for your benefit. The village is protected from the worst of the weather.

Once step past that fence, then I fear you wouldn't make it very far. Don't worry. Once you get the lay of the land, you'll have no occasion to get close. to the borders. There's nothing on the outskirts except for guard towers and warehouses. Elves only territory, I'm afraid. But you'll have full access to the rest of the place. All right, let's get going. Uncle Tin is ready for a drink. He translated his words for the other children as we made a loop around the guard tower and back down the hill. We soon arrived at a tall, purple building with gold trim that resembled a hotel. There, another elf was waiting to greet us. Tinsel introduced her as Noel, matron to the younglings. Since they are not yet able to care

for themselves, she fills the role of caregiver, and, instead of houses, they live in dormitories. Next, we were taken to a neighborhood of blue houses, trimmed in silver, that had been broken down into duplexes. They sat together on quarter-acre plots separated by white picket fences. Each home was split down the middle, with a decorative lattice divider, and identical doors, lights, and hedges, on either side. A single unit housed up to four kids, two in each half, while the street signs read as middling one, middling two, and so on. Tinsel was explaining how roommates were paired based on their native languages, when he spotted an elf waving to us from one of the driveways. There we dropped off the young girl, and, on the next street over, another elf waited

for us at Zach's house, where Gwen and I wished him luck as we moved up front. All right, off to Fledgling Square we go. Don't worry, you won't have roommates, unless you want one, of course. Tinsle smirked at me with a wink and a nudge as we left the rows of blue duplexes behind and entered a neighborhood of small but cozy green cottages with sparkling white trim. It wasn't until this moment that I realized Gwen and I were going to be separated and my already racing heart went into overdrive. The world began to spin, and I thought,

I thought I was going to puke. An elf waited for her on the very first street. House number seven. And we had no time to say goodbye. She was just suddenly gone. A thousand awful scenarios played through my mind as we drove away. What if the elves wanted to eat us, and the other kids were already dead? What if the very elf that took me into the cottage was just waiting to attack?

It didn't matter that they could have killed us a thousand times over already. Logic and I were not well acquainted at that moment. No one waited at the end of my driveway, number 23. Tensel handled the honor of my orientation personally. I followed him through the front door into a cozy living room that was by far the biggest of the rooms. It came with all the basics, even a TV, and I couldn't help asking. How do we have electricity up here? Great question.

The answer is solar panels. You couldn't tell before because that blizzard is dark in the entire sky, but this is actually one of our summer months. and the sun is almost always shining this time of year. We're usually able to store enough energy to last us through the dark winter months. But we have some emergency generators on reserve, just in case. He said this last part like he was omitting some key detail. Of course, knowing what I do now, I wouldn't be surprised if they had kids running around giant hamster wheels.

The kitchen was through a large opening in the wall across from the front door, and on the left was a short hallway with a bathroom on the right and a bedroom at the end. Overall, everything had the same rustic appearance as the rest of the village, faded and dated like it was made 50 years ago. Come have a seat, kid. We have a lot of ground to cover. Tinsel led me into a kitchen where he grabbed two glasses from a cabinet, took a seat at a small bar, and gestured for me to sit on the other end.

As I did so, he pulled a pint of vodka from his hat and poured it into the glass. glasses, a little more than a shot in mine, but he filled his to the brim. A tiny voice in my mind advised me not to drink it, but a much bigger, much louder voice begged for it. And it was the winner. I took my first ever shot in the traditional single gulp, and it burned all the way down. Nothing like what I had imagined, but its effects were instantaneous. My head was swimming when Tensel resumed, but his words came through loud and clear. Listen, we know you saw the reindeer, so... That's as far as he got before I bolted off my stool.

No, no, no, no, no. Don't run off. No one's going to hurt you. Not so long as you play ball, and... Kid? By the end of it, everyone plays ball. I sat back down, and he poured another shot into my glass, which I drank just as eagerly. Now, normally, you would come about this revelation through a series of games we like to play with the newbies.

The boss likes to make sure everyone really understands why it is that they're here. But sadly, that won't be possible with you, or Gwyneth. Zachary is still being analyzed, though I strongly suspect you have inadvertently compromised his transition as well. Nothing to do about it now except skip to the end and do better next year. How did you know we saw them? I had just enough liquid courage in me to ask. Oh, we always leave the intercoms on. It's useful for a multitude of reasons, but I do have some follow-up questions about the incident.

You see, we've been doing this since the 60s, and no one has ever seen the reindeer's true form. So many long meetings will be held regarding this matter. Of that, you can be certain. He swished around the remaining vodka in his glass before downing the rest of it in a gulp. But we can get to that tomorrow. I just want to cover the basics and get to bed. Here, have one more. He poured me another shot that I eagerly gulped down in a failed attempt to quell the rapidly returning fear.

First of all, ORC, the outcast, rescue, and relocation campaign, is 100% real. And everything works exactly as I have explained it to you. It is for children who have been outcast not only by their peers, but their families as well. It is for the children who are left to starve, alone and forgotten, or bruised and broken. because their parents either cannot or will not care for them. Tinsel looked directly at me while he spoke, but I found it difficult to meet his gaze. I clearly didn't match the criteria, so why was I here? What was the catch?

The vodka was making it impossible to think, and I almost wish I hadn't drank it. When we learned of this new program, which was actually in the 50s, our spies mentioned that most of the children just wanted to help Santa. day after day, year after year, they do all of the elves work for nothing more than room and board. Something we have at surplus. It seemed only logical that we should do the same thing. Unfortunately, we chose to poach Santa's outcasts instead of just finding our own.

You wouldn't think it to look at him, but that is not a man you want to be at war against. The elf shuddered at the memory. We were forced to sound. a treaty that forbade us from targeting kids on the nice list. But there's no shortage of naughty children to choose from, present company excluded. Our first season in 62 wasn't admittedly rough start. But we thought all the kinks were ironed out until this little incident.

I've never focused on someone's words so hard. Every word felt vital, like my very life may depend on it. And here I was trying to fight off the alcohol's effects. Noddy list? Had he said I was on the naughty list? What the hell did I do? I couldn't stand another second of anticipation. My every instinct screamed for me to get up and run, but there was quite literally nowhere

to go. So I finally cracked. Where am I? Who are you people, if not one of Santa's elves? Oh, is that not obvious? We're in the South Pole, of course. Where else would we be? I'm sorry.

Have you never actually heard of Crampus? I could only stare and stun silence. I thought Crampus was that devil thing from American Dad, but I didn't remember anything specific about the episode, and Tinsel wasn't familiar with the reference. There are far too many media representations to keep up with, and none of them are accurate anyway. Perhaps it's better that you come to us without all the false preconceptions.

I get tired of being interrupted with what the movie said, little brats. He refilled his glass, considered mine briefly. and poured me another shot with an indifferent shrug. I like you, kid. You're calm. I think you'll do all right. Uh, thanks. This time I refrained from gulping down the vodka.

Instead, I swirled it around my glass, as I had seen the elf do, mostly just to keep my hands busy. Once upon a time, a pair of twin sons, Nicholas and Christopher, were born to Boreas, God of the cold north wind and bringer of winter. Their mother was a witch, and they took her last name of Kringle. Both boys inherited powers from their father and possessed a strong aptitude for magic. They were identical in almost every way except for their personalities.

Nick was kind, gentle, and filled with infinite patience, while Chris was strict, rigid, and impulsive. When the boys were ten, their mother bore another child. This one was with a mortal. and the little girl spent much time with her brothers as she grew. Both were loving mentors, but they expressed this love in different ways. Nicholas believed rules should be treated like guidelines and carefully considered the circumstances behind each infraction before passing judgment,

though even a blatant violation never received more than a day of chores. He preferred to focus on rewarding good behavior instead. Christopher, however, was again the opposite in almost every way. He believed the rules should be enforced to the letter with no exceptions, that excuses were for the weak and should be answered with harsher punishments. Sometimes he would lock his sister in a small closet for hours on end, or, if Nicholas was away, he would whip her with his belt. Likewise, he did not understand a system in which one was rewarded for doing the bare minimum

that society expects from all humans. But they both had a strong love for the winter solstice celebration. Which, look, the history of Christmas is a very long, very complicated story, and since we're already in the middle of one of those, you'll have to learn it later. I'm just going to call it Christmas anyway for the sake of your understanding. Anyway, this was the brothers' favorite time of year. As small children, they had never met their father, but, as their powers grew, so did his interest. Boreas made himself known to the twins on the eve of their 13th birthday

and then visited them each Christmas to mark their progress. It was also the time of year when their mother's family came from all over and the boys learned many new spells between their feasts and festivals. I heard enough to understand I had moved in with Cranpus instead of Santa Claus, but I was so captivated by the story that I wasn't even aware of my fear anymore. My last shot of vodka remained undrank in a forgotten. in glass that I didn't remember setting down. When the boys fully matured into their manhood,

Boreas proclaimed that one of them would be made the god of Christmas, or, as most humans refer to him now, Father Christmas. To Nicholas, he gave domain over the North Pole, along with half of his Elton Force, while Christopher received the other half of his Elthor Force and Domain over the South Pole. Both were told to do what they would for the holiday season, and he who made the greatest impact would be the victor. For weeks they toiled away busily in their workshops.

Nicholas decided to focus on the children. Christmas was supposed to be a magical, happy time, yet so many were forced to do without. Some families couldn't afford meat for their table, let alone presents for their young, and Nick wanted the holiday to be everyone, rich and poor alike. Like his brother, Christopher also. chose to focus on the children, but he believed the holiday was a privilege to be earned,

not a right to be taken for granted. Those who celebrated with true spirit and put others before themselves were blessed with hot meals and warm hearts. Luxuries he knew many to be without, but those who were selfish and miserable received only lumps of coal that wouldn't burn. He found it poetic. Obviously, Boreas chose Nicholas to be the god of Christmas and eventually, came to be known as Santa Claus, at least to some countries. Christopher did not handle his defeat with grace. He returned home to the South Pole and became angrier and more bitter with each passing year as he watched his brother win fame and recognition only for himself.

Eventually, he came to be known as Crampus. And, all over the world, parents told their children to behave, or they would get nothing but coal for Christmas. As you know, cultures have evolved to believe different variations of this, but the full truth was lost to humans many centuries ago. Old Nikki wanted it that way. He can't stand for people to know that he's actually related to Crampus, especially after what happened in 58. Tinsle shuddered, noticeably affected by the memory and finished his drink. We'd had battles before, but forgiveness was always Nick's fatal flaw. No matter how many times Chris tried to kill him,

the big soft he couldn't bear to see his brother hurt. So he always let us go, just like that, no matter how many of his own he'd lost in the process. But then we went to war over those nice kids we poached. We had just gotten back with half a dozen of them and thought we were home free. Then his sleigh suddenly appeared in the sky, and he destroyed our cannons with his giant ice spears. Once we were left defenseless, he swooped down for a low pass over our heads, and a squadron of elves descended like a green wave.

Most of them were there to fight, and their weapons weren't set to stun this time. They were killing us. Six were there specifically to rescue the children, and we made them. made their jobs easy. Even our cannons were just for show. And all these years, never once had Nick come into our territory. Oh, but he came for those kids. His words trailed off along with his distant gaze, as his face fell slack as if he were now fully immersed in the memory. I cleared my throat, and his eyes slowly readjusted onto mine, but I didn't speak. Ah, my pardon. His words, words were almost slurred as he frowned into his empty glass and scowled angrily at the likewise

depleted bottle. That's the great thing about these hats. Just think what you want and boom, it's in your hand. He was talking to himself more than me as he fetched a new pint and drank greedily. Ah, don't look at me like that, kid. Tomorrow is our first day off since November, and I intend to sleep through the whole thing. If you're smart, you'd rest up too. Anyway, I think we've covered enough history for one night.

What do you say, we cover your duties and call it quits. I opened my mouth to protest, but thought better of it and remained silent. I had bigger troubles than an unfinished story, and I was about to find out what some of them were. Different age groups perform different jobs. You'll be working in the coal mines. So long as you meet your quota and follow you. of the rules you'll have a comfortable life here. There's even an opportunity for advancement. You'll spend your free time however you wish with whoever you wish. You can keep the food here

and prepare your own meals or eating the cafeteria. The choice is yours. Anything non-essential can be purchased with the card you'll receive. It functions the same as one of your debit cards, and your weekly credits will be based on our performance. He listed it all so quickly in that I barely retained anything past coal mines. You mean you don't just pull all the coal out of your hats? Magic isn't some unlimited fix-all. It costs an amount of energy equal to that at the task performed. If I pulled a sleigh-load of coal from my hat,

pretending I had enough energy to even do so, I would be as exhausted as if I had done it the old-fashioned way. And if we weren't in a magical place, it would cost double. I didn't know anything about gods, elves, magic, or mining. I just knew slave labor talk when I heard it. And if there's one thing I learned from a lifetime of ruthless bullying, it's when to shut up and play along. More than anything, I wanted to find Gwen and talk this out with someone I could trust. I wanted time to think.

Well, like you said, I don't have much of a choice, so. I took my last shot of vodka and stared into the empty glass, hoping additional words wouldn't be necessary. Aw, chin up, kid. You'll feel right in no time. The calm ones always thrive here. It's the fools who try to escape that don't survive. He smirked at that and stood on slightly shaky legs. You'll find your schedule along with a map and small orientation packet in the top desk drawer. If you have any questions, any of your neighbors will be happy to clarify. With those parting words, he finally left. I couldn't breathe a sigh of relief until he had.

actually drove away. I didn't even remember removing my hat and jacket, but I put them back on and immediately left to find Gwen. As soon as I came into view, she ran out and threw her arms around me. Even before she spoke, I could tell she had been crying. We made such a terrible mistake. I know, but I'm going to fix it. We're going home. I didn't say it on purpose. It just sort of came out. You have a plan? She leaned away, but left her hands on my shoulders and stared up at me with her big, wet eyes. You bet I do. I had nothing, except for an overwhelming need to comfort her.

She screamed in the middle of her sentence, and I barely contained my own startled yell. She tugged hard on my coat sleeve with one hand and pointed with the other. People from the other houses were peeping at us through their blinds, but they quickly fled once we noticed them. It's okay, it's okay. We're the new kids, remember? They're just checking us out. Come on, let's go inside.

So what's the plan? I'd barely gotten the door closed when she turned and gave me that look again. My mind raced with newfound levels of desperation, and I realized the only possible way to get home was by reindeer. Those horrifying zombie creatures that we never wanted to see again. We would either have to ride them like horses or steal the entire sleigh, and that seemed like it would be far more difficult. Well, it's kind of dangerous. No problem. I won't stay here.

I mean it. I'll die first. Her tone left no room for argument. I had no doubt she was serious. I suddenly remembered that Tinsel had mentioned a map, and the first blurry pieces of an actual plan slowly began to take shape. I forgot my map. You have one too, right? With an eager nod, she ran over to the desk, and after practically ripping the drawer from its track, she spread the contents across the desktop for inspection.

Everything looked like a cheap summer camp pamphlet from the 60s. Her schedule was on top. Her job was to haul loads of coal from the mine to the warehouse for 12 hours a day, six days a week. And mine would be the same. I screw that, I muttered, pushing it aside to reveal a colorful map. The sides in the bottom had a thick white border labeled Antarctica, while the top read the South Pole in big candy cane striped bubble letters.

In the center was Crampus's workshop. with the runway stretched before it and the sleigh directly beneath that. Yet the warehouse we exited was on the western border. The underground tunnels were clearly extensive, no entrances were marked, and I didn't think the runway would open without the sleigh. What are we looking for? I shared my thoughts about the reindeer while doing my best to sound confident. Gwen looked as uneasy as I felt, but agreed there was no other choice.

So we need this! She leaned over and pointed to a large, fenced-in-end, area behind the workshop labeled Reindeer. She was right. That gave me a little hope. We were much closer to the workshop, and even with the extra protection, I don't think we could make it to the warehouse before freezing to death. Okay, then what?

We just go and take some deer? I've never even ridden a horse before. No, I mean, and just like that, the piece has finally clicked into place. I had a real idea. It was a long shot, but it was better than spending the rest of my life mining coal for. for 72 hours a week. We need to find Tinsel's house, or wherever he sleeps. I scanned the map for any sign of where that could be, but Gwen beat me to it.

It has to be this one, right? At the center of the northmost section of the village was a giant mansion labeled with ruins instead of letters. Although impossible to translate, it was obvious who the biggest home would belong to. On each side were rows of tall, colorful townhouses. Who else would live there, if not for the elves? Well, why would we go towards everyone we're running away from? Because he's piss-ass drunk and probably passed out by now.

We need his hat. What good will that do? We can't use it. Can we? I really think I know of a way, but first we have to find him and take it. That's the part I'm worried about. The schedule says everything is shut down for Christmas. It's our best chance to slip under the radar before we fail to report for duty.

Little by little, my fear was giving way to anger, but I hardly noticed it at that point. I was too consumed by my concern for Gwen to realize I was on the verge of a total breakdown until we tried to speak to the neighbors. Knowing we would be exposed to the elements from much of our trek, we added extra layers under our winter suits, emptied the contents of our bags, and repacked with only the absolute necessities. That meant we had to return to my cottage as well, and it was after we left that a new thought occurred to me. Wait, we should take them with us. We can't just leave them here.

Oh, hell nah. We don't know these people, Seth. We're liable to pick their favorite spy. Then what? It was right before. This is our only chance. We can't risk that shit, man. She had a point. We didn't know them. In fact, we didn't know anything, but they knew a lot. So we agreed on a fair compromise. We would get as much information as possible without sharing our plan. But it was no good. They were content to watch us through their windows all night, but any time we approached a door, everyone disappeared. I could practically feel the wasted minutes ticking by,

and each one added to my building rage. But Gwen was the first to snap. Are you serious right now? The hell is wrong with you, people. You can sit there staring at us through a window, but none of you got the balls to open the goddamn door? They could die here. We ain't.

Let's just go. I started to agree, but stopped short when the sound of a creaking door stole our attention. It came from the cottage next door to where we were just marking. All the lights were off. If not for the gray light streaming in from the departing blizzard, it would have been impossible to see the frail figure leaning on to the open door as if she needed its support. The girl looked about our age, but she was so thin that her skin looked elastic over her bones, and tufts of dark hair protruded from underneath her cap.

Hey, hi, thanks for coming out. We just want to ask a few questions. I inched closer as I spoke while signaling Gwen to stay back. Soon I could see the dark rings around her eyes, and there was a large bruise across her jawline. Stop right there, that's far enough. There was nothing weak or frail about her voice. She spoke like a drill sergeant,

sounding well accustomed to having her orders obeyed. I froze with my foot in mid-stride and placed it back on the ground without advancing another centimeter. Oh, yes, ma'am. Sorry again. I'm Seth, and this is... New kids are nothing but trouble. If you survive the first week, we'll learn your names. Otherwise, stay out of our way. No one is going to help you with whatever you're scheming. Christmas Day fell on a Monday this year. Do you know what that means around here? It means we're going to have two days off in a row for the first time in a very... long time, and we're not wasting a second of it on the two of you.

Before I could respond, Gwen began tugging at my sleeve. Oh my God, Seth! Look at them all! Several cottages around us were now brightly lit, and the blinds had been raised, and groups of children stood in the windows, watching our exchange. They were all just as malnourished as the girl we were speaking with. Many were even worse. I didn't know what to say.

I knew life there had been bad, but to actually see. set things in a new perspective. I swear, we don't want any trouble. We just saw so many people watching and... And then you came up with some half-cocked escape plan and realized you needed more information. Well, too bad. If you want to die, go ahead, but you're not taking any of my people with you. A lot of people try to escape then?

At that, she rolled her eyes and slammed the door. Holy shit, can you believe? I began, but Gwen pushed past me and began furiously pounding on the girl's door. What the hell is wrong with you? If you don't come open this gun! No, wait, stop! I grabbed Gwen from behind and carried her back to the road, well away from the frail girl's cottage.

How can you just stand there after she? Her hands were clenched into tight fists, and she was practically vibrating with anger. I know, but Jesus, did you see them? It's worse here than we thought. I'm so sick of being the world's punching bag, but they aren't our enemies. They're victims like us.

I don't care what it takes. I will get us home. I pulled her close. close and we held one another, not wanting to let go. But Gwen pushed me away and yelled with excitement. Oh my God, Seth! 26! Myra!

That girl was Myra! Oh, look! Here on this one, 25 and Oliver! It sounded like gibberish at first. She was bouncing between mailboxes and it took a moment for her words to make sense. Then I saw it. The mailboxes were all labeled with the house number on the front and the house number. the occupant's name on the side.

If they're all like this, that means... Exactly. Now we can find that sorry elf's bitch-ass! Oh, I can't wait to get my hands on that piece of shit! She took off in the direction of Tensel's neighborhood with the gleam in her eyes that made me nervous. I ran to catch up and tried reasoning with her. Well, hold on a second.

I want to watch this whole place burn as badly as you do, but we don't even know what it takes to kill an elf. We're more likely just to wake him up and get caught. I could practically see the gears turning as she considered my words. Yeah, you're probably right, I guess. Her tone didn't inspire much confidence, but it was a start. We had no way to keep track of time as we used various landmarks to guide us across the village, but it felt like we were walking for over an hour when we finally reached the right neighborhood.

There was still just barely enough light to see by, but we paid close attention to our surroundings, to dive into a bush at any moment. Tinsel's house ended up being on the left side of the first row, only three doors down from Crampus himself. We made our way into the backyard and concealed ourselves inside a gazebo. Do you think he's got a family? I kind of assumed he would live alone, but now that you say it, I have no idea. You wait here.

I'll be right back, I promise. I started to crawl out of the gazebo, but Gwen grabbed onto my arm with a steel grip. I'm not letting you go in there alone. We're in this together. But I really need you to stay. Think about it. Two people are going to make more noise and be more likely to get caught, especially if he has a family. I can get in and out much faster if I'm not worried about you too.

She glared at me in silence, as if carefully weighing each point before finally sitting down again. Fine. I'll stay. But if you aren't back in five minutes, I'm coming in after you. Maybe make it ten. With that, I hurried out of the gazebo before she could argue. This being my first experience with real snow, I wasn't expecting to fall into deep pockets of the stuff.

When I finally stopped fighting it and practically swam the last several feet, tons of it got inside my suit. Had Tinsel's door not been unlocked, I likely would have frozen to death. The house was warm and cozy inside. I shook the cold snow from my clothes and it began to melt the moment it touched the heated floor. I was in the utility room and listened closely for any hint of movement, but the house was completely silent. Then I peered into the kitchen, and my heart sank at the side of a booster chair,

sitting next to a table. He definitely had a family. As I crept through the kitchen, I noticed a knife block sitting on the counter and held myself to a butcher knife before creeping into the living room. Finding the hat hanging near the front door would have been far too easy, but I had to try. At the top of the stairs, one of the doors ahead clicked open, and there was nowhere to hide. All I could do was drop to the ground and wait. It was hard to do. It was hard to do. It was hard to to see in the windowless hall, but the figure's shape was too short to be an adult. I held my breath as the shadow lingered in the open doorway. If the kid had wanted a snack, I would have been caught, but thankfully it went to the bathroom instead. Lice spilled through the open door crack,

and there was a soft grunt followed by a muttered curse. It sounded like the kid had tripped over a rug or something, but then there was a sudden, loud, choking snore with an even louder annoyed grunt right behind it, and an image began forming in my head. Had Tinsel passed out on the bathroom floor? Could I really be that lucky? The kid returned to its room a minute later, and I waited a few more before cautiously peeping into the restroom. A small window led in just enough light to see the shape on the floor was, in fact, my buddy, Tinsel. Kneeling next to him, I set the butcher's knife down and carefully removed his hat. It had already fallen most of the way off. Now, I only needed to pull a small portion of the brim from underneath his head.

A triumphant cheer nearly escaped my lips when it came loose, and the elf continued to snore. My entire plan hinged on this moment. I recalled Tinsel's earlier explanation when he spoke of the hats. Just think of what you want, and boom, it's in your hand. Those were his exact words. I wanted to test it on something easy, so I imagined a simple Bick lighter, and, once a clear image had taken shape in my mind, mind, I reached inside the hat and felt absolutely nothing. It was like any regular old hat. I had a feeling that using it myself was a little too good to be true. That meant I had to go through

with Plan B, and the only thing that frightened me more than failure was success. I removed my gloves for easier flexibility, and, very gently, placed my hand over tinsles, lacing our fingers together. Then, lifting both oh so carefully, I lowered them into the hat and tried again. This time my fingers instantly brushed against a small object, and my heart fluttered with a mixture of relief, anticipation, and terror. Once it was successfully removed, I struck it, and the miraculous little flame flicked to life. It worked. My plan actually had a chance of success.

If I could follow through with the next part, the reasons I asked Gwen to stay behind were all true, but this was why I really didn't want her tagging along. Deep down, I think I knew it would come to. to this. I lifted the butcher knife and found myself transfixed by my reflection in the blade. I barely recognized the boy staring back at me. He looked old, haggard, and cruel, like I had aged 20 years overnight. With a deep breath, I steeled myself for what came next. Before I could act, the elves' eyes shot open. He was looking right at me. His face now morphed into something monstrous as he wrestled for the knife. His skin became wrinkled as if showing

his true age, while thick, pitch-black circles ringed his blood-orange eyes and ran halfway down his cheeks, sharp, jagged lines. His lips parted as he snarled angrily, and I saw that his teeth all came to find sharp points. I didn't have time to think about what I was doing. My body moved of its own accord, and before I knew it, I was straddling the hammered elf, pushing the blade closer and closer towards his exposed throat as we both grunted with the strain. He hissed and spit, but didn't call for help. Whether he thought he didn't need it or was simply too drunk to do so, I have no idea. But inch by inch, my knife dropped lower until the point was against his throat.

The black lines extending from the rings around his eyes stretched even farther down his cheeks over his jaw and onto his neck. As the blade pierced his skin, his steaming dark green blood pooled onto the hard floor, almost too hot to bear its touch. His strength began to fade as he gasped. for his final breaths, and I pushed the night deeper until it scraped the floor beneath, and Tensel's face fell slack in death. It felt like I was choking on my own heartbeat as I rolled off his chest and crawled to the towels

hanging nearby. Everywhere his blood touched, my skin felt raw and irritated. But I was afraid turning on the faucet would make too much noise. Before following through with the next part of my plan, I tried the hat trick with a gallon of water and cried a few tears of joy when it worked. It would have been a shame to go through the effort of removing the elf's hand for no reason. It took longer than expected. I almost puked several times, and every few seconds I was plagued by imaginary footsteps in the

hall, but I did it. The hand was much easier to use without the excess bulk, though getting a grip on the larger items still proved tricky. After carefully wrapping a bandage around the bottom of the severed hand, I used the jug of water to clean the fresh blood off myself and not a moment too soon. My hands and arms were covered in a red, itchy rash. In the worst places, my skin began to split, and I feared what would happen if any of it got into my bloodstream.

Knowing it had most certainly been longer than ten minutes, I donned my gloves and left as quickly as I dared, back down the steps, through the kitchen and out the back door, where Gwen was trying to peer inside. Her eyes widened with joy as she started to speak. I raised a finger to my lips until we were well away from the house. I tried omitting a few details, but I had a severed hand with me. There was no delicate way around it. I had been terrified she would think me a monster, but if she was upset about anything,

it was the fact that she didn't get to do it herself, or even watch, which was kind of weirdly hot. I'm sure that says more about me than her. Now that we had the hat, I explained the next phase of my plan on our way to the stables. Again, I wasn't sure it would work, but it was my only option. Pouring all of my concentration into a single image, I imagined a pair of special gloves, gloves capable of siphoning magic. One of my mom's favorite shows is The Vampire Diaries.

She watches it at least once a year, and I swear, if it helped save our lives, I would never make fun of it again. The series includes some witches who could siphon magic from others with a simple touch. At least, that's how I remember it. I never paid much attention to it, but the season with the evil twin boy was pretty cool. The point is, I pinned a lot of hope on that idea. I remembered what Tintzl said about the hats not being a magical fix-all, and we needed a backup plan in case his hat stopped doing the job. After making the gloves, I saw what he meant firsthand. I was exhausted, not just physically, but mentally.

It felt like I could have curled up on the side of the street and slept for 12 hours if given half the chance. Gwen tried to make a pair for herself, but the elf's hand was already out of juice, so I gave her one of mine. Unfortunately, my total exhaustion slowed us significantly, but we eventually made it to the stables without seeing another soul. The whole place was a ghost town. All eight zombie reindeer stood in their pens, every bit as ugly as I remembered. There was no shifting between appearances this time. What we saw is what we got. Oh, man, I don't know if I can ride one of the other.

those things. They're so disgusting. Well, it's either that or a hitch all eight of them to the sleigh. I'm not sure we should be spending that kind of time around here. I still felt like I'd run a marathon while memorizing an encyclopedia, but desperation kept me going. The reindeer were the first magical things we encountered since getting the gloves. So we each touched one now. I went first and could instantly tell it was working. My entire arm tingled as the beast's magic was siphoned, Gwen followed suit with the reindeer in the next stall. What I didn't expect, however, was for the reindeer to disintegrate beneath our hands. But we took the only thing holding them together.

Without it, they were quite literally nothing. Okay, now I'm really ready to go. Please tell me it's time to leave. Hell yeah, it is. Come on, there should be some saddles around here. Once we figure out how to get all that stuff on, we're out of this hellhole. I promised. We continued down the line until reaching the first stall closest to the workshop.

where everything we needed hung on the walls. I began pulling up the closest saddle, but it wouldn't come down. Assuming it was due to the exhaustion, I asked Gwen for help, and we pulled together on the count of three. Instead of coming loose, the entire piece, nail and all, moved down like a lever, and the entire row of stables began receding underground, exactly as the warehouse had done. We had to make a split decision, follow the deer underground and risk being trapped, or leap out of the stable and risk losing the deer.

We stayed. Whether it was the right choice or not is something I will spend the rest of my life debating. Not knowing what we were dropping into, we crouched low behind the barrels of feed until everything was still again. No footsteps came running, no voices called out in alarm. It seemed like we were still alone. But I rose slowly, looking around carefully before signaling Gwen to join me. We instantly recognized the space even before we were.

we saw the giant sleigh, sitting unguarded. The harnesses were propped over chairs and boxes like the elves were too lazy to do more than unhook the deer. Neither of us wanted to touch those mangy creatures, let alone ride them. And I could see she was considering the same possibility. I inspected the reins and felt fairly certain I understood how it would work. But wait, are sick enough to pull this thing? Her word stopped my heart cold. I never dreamed we would make it back to this point. And since most of the work was already done, it almost seemed too risky to not take the sleigh. But I feared that Gwen was correct.

It was a heavy load, and losing two of the deer would make a big difference in strength. Hoping against hope, I ran to the back of the driver's cab to see how it attached to the passenger car, and nearly cried with relief when seeing nothing more than a trailer hitch holding it together. Look! Looks like our luck is holding out. All we need is a carjack, and we can detach the cab. I crawled into the passenger car, checking under and behind the seats. While I did that, I heard the driver's car door open and knew Gwen was doing the same. I knew when she crawled into the seat by the sound of creaking springs, but then I heard

something I couldn't identify. It was like three different noises all occurring simultaneously. First, it was as if a bunch of soldiers drew their swords at once. There was definitely a very brief grunt, like the kind someone makes when they've got the air knocked out of them. But I can't begin to find the words for the last sound. It was wet, squishy even, and definitely familiar, but I couldn't place it. What the hell was that?

I called looking up, but there was no response. I tried again, louder this time. Hey, what was that weird noise? You okay? When she didn't answer, I crawled out of the passenger section to check for myself, but nothing could have prepared me for the waiting sight. When I looked into the front cab, Gwen was in the drive. driver's seat, impaled by multiple thick spears shooting out from the back of her seat.

She was already gone, killed instantly, judging by the one protruding from the center of her throat. Her wide eyes stared straight ahead, and blood poured from her mouth, dripping onto the spears in her chest and then into her lap, and another pool was collecting on the floor where it ran down from her seat. Most of this part is a blur now. Looking back, I understand I was in shock, but at the moment every elf could have returned to work around me and I wouldn't have noticed a single one. I remember genuinely not understanding what I saw.

It was so foreign, so unthinkably impossible that I couldn't identify the bloody, torn mass before me as Gwen. I couldn't reconcile the vibrant, lively girl I was growing to love with such a violent image. We had come too far, gotten too close for it to end like this. We knew each other for less than 24 hours, but going through something like we did, it feels like we've known each other for our entire lives, like no one else will ever understand you. I might have stood there for five minutes or five hours. I truly don't know.

The familiar voice eventually broke my trance, and reality came crashing down onto me like a ton of bricks tied to an elephant's back. Ho, ho, oh, no! Looks like we've had a little accident. I had never felt grief and fury mixed so keenly that they formed an entirely new emotion yet to be named in the English language. But now that I have, I can say with confidence that it is by far the most painful sensation I have ever experienced. It felt like someone ripped open my chest, filled it with gasoline, and threw a match inside. When I turned towards him, his sallow face was drawn into a sinister, toothy grin beneath his giant hooded cloak, and his thin,

pointy beard hung low by his waist. It was exactly like the vision I saw in my room during Tensel's visit, Only now it was up close and personal. Like the elf, Grampus's eyes were also ringed in thick, pitch-black circles with long veins running down his cheeks, while his skeletal limbs and clawed hands were grossly out of proportion with his robust middle. Fuck you! I hissed, along with a string of mindless obscenities as I turned and lunged at the jolly piece of shit that ruined my life, but he effortlessly swatted me away like a bug,

completely unfazed by my attack. Oh, my, I didn't beg you for such a feisty one. Your girlfriend, sure, but you. You know, I should really be thanking you. I've waited over 50 years to see that trap in action, and boy, it does not disappoint. He moved closer as he spoke, and only when backing away from his advance did I feel the warm, sticky liquid pulled beneath me and realized I had landed right over Gwen.

I'm not sure if it was shock or some kind of survival instinct, but my mind remained strangely calm as I forced myself to my feet. Crampus continued his advance, but I couldn't move. Even though Gwen was gone, I couldn't stand the idea of him being near her. I was prepared to die where I stood, but hoped to at least hurt the bastard before he took me down. Tensel's hat was stuffed in my pocket. If I could only pull a weapon from it, but what weapon was capable of hurting something like this? And just like that, the answer came to me as if someone whispered it into my ears. Celestial bronze. At least, that's what Rick Reardon

said through his Percy Jackson series, which was more than I could come up with on my own. Was it true? Did he take that information from actual Greek mythology, or did he make it up for a story. I have no clue, but I was damn sure ready to try something. Cranpus was inches away as I slowly reached my magically gloved hand into my pocket. I already knew I had been too slow, but still had to try, for Gwen. Ah, young love, there's nothing quite so special, is there, son? Before I could open my mouth to respond, he raised a hand to my forehead, and with a simple flick of his finger sent me flying into a pile of crates. Dozens of black dots danced in my vision as I lay there desperately gasping for air.

It felt like my forehead had been split in two, and blood ran down either side of my nose, around the corners of my mouth, and drip from my chin. I felt certain I would pass out, but I couldn't stand the thought of dying without at least hurting the bastard first. He was the only person more responsible for Gwen's death than myself. It should have been me in the driver's seat, not her. I laid very still, moving just enough to slip my hand back into my pocket while watching Crampus through barely opened eyes. He was examining Gwen like a new toy, and it made me want to scream.

I'll be honest, my boy, I'm impressed. Truly, no one has ever made it this far. Heck, if you hadn't forgotten one of the first things Tinsall said, and you don't know how many times I've told him not to drink during Orientation. You might have actually made it. Not her, of course. He pointed his thumb to Gwen. But if you could have pried her loose, there would have been nothing else to stop you.

Oh, you gotta admit, it's kind of funny. He reached back inside the cab, this time beneath the seat, and with the press of a button, the spears retracted. Gwen slumped forward, and Crampus pushed her onto the corner. cold, hard four. Another spike of anger made my face flush so hot that I actually felt the redness rising in my cheeks. My hand was now on the sword's pommel, but if I revealed my plan too soon, I wouldn't even get a chance to use it. My plan was to lay there, feigning unconsciousness, until the bastard came close enough to strike. If I could stab him with the celestial bronze and

siphon his magic, it might give me an actual chance. You know that one song, right? He knows when you've been sleeping. He knows when you're awake. That's a true story. Oh, ho! He was moving closer as he spoke, but I still needed to free the sword from my pocket, the pommel of which stuck.

While some of the crates were still providing me with cover, I tried to stall. Aren't you going to tell me what I forgot about Tinslow's rousing orientation? Every part of my body hurt, and the pain was even worse when I tried to stay. speak, but I finally had one end of the pommel free. Don't you remember how we knew that you saw the reindeer's true form? Oh, no. It's such a shame we won't have time to solve that mystery now. He turned back towards Gwen with a look of sadness and regret.

If it had only been one of them, we could safely assume the defect lay with the child. All these years in business we were bound to get one with the sight sooner or later. But two, in one night, it's unthinkable. At first, I was too distracted by a fresh wave of anger to even try remembering which of Tensel's words he was referring to. But then it came to me, and my heart sank into the pit of my stomach. You always leave intercoms on. Very good, lad. Very good, yes.

That goes for the sleigh and all of our children's homes as well. I especially like to keep a close eye on you new kids. It's always so interesting to see what you'll do. So you're saying that's how you knew where we were? Yes, uh, no. It's how we determine if someone will try to escape. But once we know they are, well, there's really only one blamely. they can go.

On the other hand, if they decide not to try, then there's no point in wasting a trip when I could just stay home. Though, funny enough, you were almost allowed to escape anyway. You see, I almost didn't come when you decided to steal Tinsel's hat, which was another first for us, by the way, because it meant you would both perish long before reaching the slay. But, then I realized you would have plenty of time to change your minds before actually arriving, and long walks and freezing temperatures have a way of draining ones resolve. Tell me, was it you or the girl who ultimately thought better of it?

The other half of the pommel was finally clear. All I had to do was pull my arm back far enough to free the blade as well, but doing so proved a greater challenge than the handle. I had made it too long, and I could already feel the magical hit to my energy reserves, which, mind you, were already pretty depleted. With Gwen's broken body lying in a pool of her own blood, I couldn't hold it back anymore. We didn't change our minds. Your little henchman was passed out drunk on his bathroom floor, so I killed him with a butcher knife from his own kitchen.

I have rashes and lesions where his blood spilled onto my arm and hands, and then I couldn't even make the hat work. I may have wanted to spite him, but I didn't want to ruin my plan. the process. Did I expect him to experience the same level of soul-crushing grief that I had? Of course not. But I expected him to at least be furious. Or I don't know.

The only thing I didn't expect was his actual reaction. Holy Singles! Oh my! I just keep underestimating you. You most certainly accomplish an impressive feat. I'm not disputing. that. But you didn't kill him, silly boy. You can't kill what's already dead? Not with a butcher's knife at least. No, no, he'll wake up angry and with a sore throat, but he'll be just fine.

He laughed until his face was completely red, which created a strange visual when combined with the black rings and veins that appeared to have thickened during our conversation. What do you mean already dead? How is that even possible? Oh, come now, lad. You're smarter than that. You don't think we've always looked like this, do you? You've seen the deer, you see me now, and you must have seen tinsels while you had a knife in his throat. Oh, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.

But how are you here? How did you all die? Ah, of course, of course. Tinsel stopped short of telling you about the war. It's definitely not one of his favorite subjects. Ah, poor fellow. He had a particularly hard death. Many of the elves were granted quick deaths in the initial explosions, but he fought by my side until the brutal end.

My brother showed no mercy. He burned every bill. building to the ground and slaughtered every living creature in the South Pole. Even now, if you dig deep enough, you'll still find remnants of the carnage. It was months before all of the blood and soot were covered with freshly fallen snow. But how are you here then? Oh. Well, I'm a god, my boy.

Even when we're killed, we don't usually stay dead. But, in this case, I made a simple deal with Hades, and he returned me to the South Pole. That guy loves winter, because, every summer, his wife leaves to stay with her mother. Once home, I brought back my elves and reindeer with a little reanimation spell, and then we rebuilt the village. Crampus was only ten feet away. I maneuvered myself into a sitting position and adjusted my grip, but there was no way to remove the sword discreetly. In hopes of making up for it with distraction, I tried to keep him talking.

The reindeer weren't the only strange thing I saw. That stopped him in his tracks. Oh, do tell. I shared the story of Tinsel's visit when I saw the figure I was now certain must have been Crampus. The similarities were too great to be a coincidence. As I spoke, his face changed from mild curiosity to total fascination. He was hanging on my every word.

Oh, you are an interesting case. No one has ever watched me while I watched them. But it must be true. I was sitting at my desk exactly as you described. I dare say you clearly have the sight. The lad is clearly an advanced case. And he shared a strong connection with the gregion. girl, but did they connected such a way because they both possessed the sight, or did he unknowingly

share his gift because of the connection? Alas, I fear we shall never know. If not for the example it would set, I would keep you alive for study. I suppose I could hide you away, but no. Sadly, rules are rules. There's nothing to be done about it now. He seemed genuinely saddened by this, but don't you make the rules? How barbaric!

Young man, I'll have you know that being a rules creator does not grant you a license to break it. I swear the nerve of you, brats! He sounded like an angry teacher lecturing his students for disrupting a lesson. He even shook his finger like one. He resumed his advance, but before I could think of my next stalling tax, His gaze shifted to the reindeer stalls. With a confused tilt of his head, he looked back and forth between it and the sleigh several times, as if not understanding what he saw. It was a real chance to get my sword out of my pocket, and I took it.

Once free, I took the blade into my left hand and laid it quietly on the stone floor beneath the large crate. Since my magical glove was in my right hand, this allowed me two ways to attack. I finished just as Crampus returned his attention to me. Where are my babies? Where are vomit and slasher? I didn't know what he was talking about, and the confusion must have shown on my face. He suddenly grew ten feet taller and loomed over me like a holly, jolly giant from hell. Do not test me, my dear, now.

I, I, I, I, I, I, I. I'll rip you and off if you don't answer me. In the blink of an eye, he closed the small gap between us, grabbed me by the throat of my coat, and effortlessly lifted me high over his head. This was my chance. By some miracle I had held onto the sword, and he was so furious he didn't even notice. To keep his attention focused elsewhere, I yelled, You dear disintegrated to ash when we siphon their magic.

Grabbing his outstretched wrist with my right hand, I instantly felt the glove doing its job, thrust the sword into his side with my left. It entered him at an upward angle, and I felt the tip pierced many organs on the way through. Had I paid better attention in anatomy and physiology, I may have known what I was hitting, but for now I was merely grateful to cause pain. The furious, anguished look on his face confirmed I had done something to inflict real damage. Whether the sword, glove, or deer bothered him more, I still didn't know. But I held on tightly for as long as I could, until finally he flung me into the wall like a rag doll. I was too numb to feel actual pain, but stars danced in my vision for several seconds before I could shake free of them.

Crampus remained in the same spot, and there was nothing remotely jolly left in his demeanor. He glared at me without blinking, the black veins on his face now extending past his jawline. As he slowly removed the sword from his side, it was covered in a chunky, dark, oozing liquid that dripped onto the floor, while more poured from his side. Oh, celestial bronze. That would explain it. But how did you? Or rather, where? And why can't I?

The sword fell from his limp hand with a loud clatter, and his eyes began to roll back as if he were about to pass out. But he only slumped to a sitting position. He looked in my direction, squinting like you couldn't see clearly. What did you? Do to me. Seeing the crampus was actually hurt gave me an extra push to hurry back to my feet. My ankle was definitely sprained or twisted, or something, but I barely noticed.

After retrieving the fallen sword, I placed my gloved hand on the bastard shoulder and ran the blade through his chest. I intended to drain him until he disintegrated like vomit and slasher, but I didn't have enough stamina. Using the glove was draining my energy as much as his magic, and I couldn't risk not being able to use the hat if I needed it. When I let go, blood was pouring from Cranpice's mouth, nose, ears, and eyes, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he collapsed. I didn't dare to hope he was dead, but I did feel like he would likely remain unconscious until someone came along to remove

the sword, or until his magic regenerated. There was no way I was going to sit in the sleigh after what happened to Gwen, and I didn't have time to get ready anyway. Instead, I said a quick goodbye to my only friend, stuffed her bag inside my own. I just wanted something to remember her by, and went back to the stables. The same lever that lowered them also took them back up above ground. I then took one of the other saddles and the set of reins, at which point the greatest challenge began. Figuring out how to put those things on without help was nearly impossible, and it didn't help that I was working with a zombie reindeer. When it was finally done, I wrapped myself in as many layers as I could fit on my body and climbed aboard.

I tried slapping the reins, yelling, mush, and anything else I had seen on TV, but the reindeer wouldn't budge. I finally noticed a nameplate above its stall. I was riding Putrid, which I assume is a play on the name Cupid? After everything I had been through up to that point, the ride back to civilization was second only to Gwen's death as the worst torture I had ever endured. I couldn't make it back to the United States. But, as you clearly can see, I did make it back to Australia.

The first thing, okay, maybe the second thing I wanted to do was send Rick Reardon, the biggest thank you card I could find. I never dreamed Greek mythology would end up saving my life. But hey, credit where credit is due. Unfortunately, other things had to come first, like figuring out how I was going to get home. I couldn't endure another second riding of that awful reindeer. Its smell lived up to its name and more, so I siphoned its mind. magic until it disintegrated like its brothers.

With my last bit of magic, I pulled a new phone and a plane ticket to Florida from the hat. I called both my parents, desperate to hear their voices, but neither of them answered. The anger was instant. Who doesn't answer their phone when they have a missing son? Next, I googled my name. Maybe they hadn't even noticed I was gone yet. But instead of a missing person's report, or nothing at all, I found several news clippings

discussing the death of my entire family, along with our obituaries. My hand began to shake so violently that I dropped the phone several times before finally sitting on the ground to press play. This is Janet Grace with Florida Local 9. We're here on Parker Street in Pitkin County, where festivities were brought to an abrupt halt during the early morning Christmas hours. Behind me, you can see the burnt remnants of the Frazier family home, where Jeff and Donna raised their 15-year-old son, Seth, and six-year-old. daughter Tara. Now, all tragically deceased. Neighbor Gary Mitchell woke to see the roaring blaze from his window and dialed emergency services. With help on the way, he rushed to wake

the other neighbors who attempted to contain the fire with their garden hoses, but sadly, it was already too late for the family inside. Though the investigation has just begun, initial reports indicate no obvious signs of foul play, but we'll continue to update you as new information surfaces. Until then, don't forget to check those smoke alarms and keep the area around your outlets clear of debris. This is Janet Grace signing off. I played the short clip four times before my head stopped spinning long enough to fully comprehend what I was hearing. That she was talking about my house, my family, they're all gone. Next, I searched for Gwen's family and found similar reports from her area. Her parents and siblings had likewise perished in a housefire,

Currently, no signs of foul play. I wandered around aimlessly for a long time, unsure of where to go or what to do next. Did I go to the police? They would never believe my story. I couldn't see any chain of events that didn't end up with them blaming me for the fire. I even understand how suspicious it all seemed. But the longer I thought about it, the more clear it became that I only had one real option. Revenge.

My life is ruined, but other lives don't have to be. That's why I plan to return to the South Pole with an army next Christmas. I paid a high price in order to be here today. My family is dead. Gwen is dead. I don't take those sacrifices lightly. So what do you say, Outcast? Will you join me in my fight for dominion over the South Pole?

Will you help me rescue our enslaved brothers and sisters? Or will you remain here and continue to fight a losing battle against a society too broken to see its own flaws? The choice is yours, my friends. But know that you will not receive this offer a second time. This will be deleted exactly 24 hours from now. Should you wish to join me, you will find the details of our first meeting in the description below. Choose wisely.