To whom it may concern

The weather was turning, and the four identical old ladies who worked the counter at Grandma's Counter were knitting. They had been knitting for days, and already a thick skein of purple-red fabric had gathered about their feet and tangled amongst the curved runners of their four identical rocking chairs.

"Hypothesis one," said Marshall. "They hibernate for winter and those things are their cocoons."

Simon dutifully wrote it down.

"Hypothesis two," he said, still scribbling, "They're Eerie's version of the Fates, knitting the New Year."

"Hypothesis three," said Tod, "They're Grandmas, and that's just what Grandma's do near Christmas time."

Ongoing Verse: Trusted Associates Inc

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Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Ongoing Verse: Christmas

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The bonfire blazed, flames licking up two or three times the height of a man, bright against the darkening blue of the oncoming night.

It was midwinter, and the old year was burning away in twisting coils of red and orange and sometimes white in the places where someone (probably the Bobs) had poured petrol over the carefully-arranged layers of old pallets at the base of the pyre.

The ForeverWare Ladies stood nearby, heat-resistant cups empty and lidless in one hand, tight-fitting rubber seals in the other. Tonight they would catch the last sparks of the year, and preserve them.

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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Ongoing Verse: Milkman

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Ongoing Verse: Christmas

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Ongoing Verse: The Children

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Ongoing Verse: Pay Attention

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The man from the Dragon of the Black Pool Cantonese Restaurant and the man representing Eerie's most notorious biker gang took a seat at the very back of the closed and darkened restaurant, far from the street-level windows and the prying eyes of the thing in the ornamental fish tank.

"So," said Gnomey, pulling off his dark sunglasses and replacing them with a pair of round wire-rimmed spectacles that did nothing to diminish the rumour that he was secretly Santa in disguise. "Let's take a look at these accounts, shall we? Can't recoup lost income until we know what's missing."

Ongoing Verse: Christmas

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Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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Written for Day 4 of the 2018 Eerie, Indiana advent calendar challenge. The prompt for this one was "amnesia", submitted by eviinsanemonkey:

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( Read the rest of the First Kiss series here )

( Read the rest of the Christmas series here )

( Read the rest of the Microwave verse here )

Written for this year's Advent Calendar Challenge. The first prompt was "copy" and was submitted by deifire:

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( Read the rest of the Christmas series here )

( Read the rest of the Microwave verse here )

( Read the rest of the Holmes Brothers series here )

A glittering stream of sweets, glorious in foil wrappings of every shade and hue, tumbled down into the octagonal plastic box with a rattle.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" Marshall yelled, jumping off the sofa in a shower of cookie crumbs and throw cushions.

Dash glared up at him, the now-empty tin of Roses in one hand, the newly-refilled box of Quality Street in the other.

"What?" he demanded.

"You can't mix Quality Street with Roses!" Marshall shouted, a vein jumping in his temple. "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh, really?" Dash countered, reaching for the red cardboard tube. "You're really going to hate this, then..."

Simon, who had been steadfastly ignoring them while he flipped through the Commander Cody Christmas Annual, looked up at Marshall's horrified scream. He tried to reach for the Celebrations, but his feet tangled in the heavy throw rug Marilyn had spread over the three boys after lunch, and he went sprawling.

"Dash, no..." he tried, but it was too late.

The Celebrations, gold and brown and red, rustled and clattered as they mixed with the blues and pinks of the Roses and burrowed down amidst the greens and purples of the Quality Street. The room filled with the smell of fondant and melted chocolate, and Dash dropped the now-full box with a curse as the plastic began to heat.

"What have you done?" cried Marshall, as a pair of drippy brown hands appeared over the edge of the Quality Street box and a mis-shapen head, stinking of unpleasant flavour combinations and studded with a thousand Toffee Penny eyes, rose from the churning moil.

"For decades, I have slumbered," gurgled the Selection Box Homunculus, a long string of too-sweet strawberry-orange filling dripping from the corner of it's too-wide mouth. "But at last, I rise again! Cower, foolish mortals, for the curse of all-the-good-flavours-are-gone is upon you!"

"Great," said Marshall, as a nearly-full box of Malteasers flew off the coffee table to be absorbed into the monster's gloopy body. "Thanks for ruining Christmas, Dash."

"How was I supposed to know?" Dash snapped back, making a futile grasp for the last of the Thin Mints as they vanished into the roiling mass of confectionary.

"Everyone knows!" said Simon, as peanut m&ms streamed between his frantically clutching fingers and straight into the monster's gaping maw. "It's a basic tenant of the holidays: you never cross the candy streams!"

( Read the rest of the Christmas series here )

( Read the rest of the Microwave verse here )

A dozen wire framework reindeer occupied the median strip that separated the Eerie Community Theatre and Execution Grounds from the Eerie Town Dump and Municipal Performance Space. Eight foot tall from hoof to antler, silver-white fairy lights dripped from the metal struts that made up their skeletal bodies, bathing them in a hundred tiny beacons of bright light that concealed more than it illuminated.

The beam of Marshall's flashlight followed the gilded ropes that served as traces as he circled the huge display. Taking care to stay well out of reach of the razor-sharp, LED-tipped antlers, he methodically checked each deer for scraps of fur, blood splatter, or artefacts of dark magic that might be easily concealed within their hollow bodies.

Finally, he let out a long sigh of relief and reached for the walkie-talkie at his belt.

"Simon, do you read me, over?" he asked.

"Read you loud and clear, over," came the staticky reply a moment later.

"I think we're good here," said Marshall. "Operation Eerie Carol Service can proceed as planned. How's it look from your end? Over," he added hastily, releasing the "talk" button.

There was a long pause, then the receiver crackled again.

"I think you should come 'round to the sleigh," said Simon finally.

Marshall peered around the looming reindeer to where Santa's sleigh stood, shrouded in heavy-duty black plastic in order to build anticipation before it's dramatic unveiling the following night.

"Why?" he asked, his voice thick with dread. His feet were leaden as he forced himself to skirt the vast antlered beasts, sticking to the muddy verge at the very edges of the large traffic island. The stiff folds of the concealing sack rattled in the December wind, the noise like the beating of great leathery wings in the dark.

"There's blood," said Simon.

( Read the rest of the Trusted Associates verse here )

( Read the rest of the Christmas series )

"Did you do that?" asked Marshall, pointing at the jackalope with fairy lights wrapped around his antlers.

Simon shook his head.

Marshall looked sceptical.

"Really," Simon insisted. "Jackalopes aren't usually very festive, and they're stubborn. The few people who've tried to force a jackalope into a Christmas jumper never lived to tell about it."

They watched as the jackalope made it's lazy, hopping way across the dried-up winter grass at the edge of the road. It wriggled beneath a struggling clump of bushes, disappearing into the gloom beneath the branches. For a few seconds, the dark interior washed green and red as the lights continued to blink. Eventually, they too faded from view.

"Huh," said Marshall.

"I'm kinda hurt," said Simon, staring at the spot where the jackalope had vanished. "Last year I made them a really nice wreath, full of green onions and clover and dried meadow grass, and they never even touched it. Now they're suddenly full of the holiday spirit, fairy lights and all?"

Marshall gnawed at his lower lip, his expression fretful.

"I don't like it," he said. "Suddenly there's someone besides you that can get Eerie's wildlife to play dress-up? And not just the tamer ones like the black shucks and the night mares, or the ones like the ghost-pirates who would do it anyway, but the really dangerous stuff like the wolpertingers and the-"

His voice trailed off abruptly, and he grabbed Simon's arm, gasping.

A unicorn walked by, it's long mane thick with tinsel streamers. On the very tip of it's horn, a glittering angel doll dangled at a slightly lopsided angle. The thick opalescent spur had pierced the doll through the satiny white fabric of it's robes, and the deadly point gleamed where it emerged from the angel's chest.

"Syndi," Marshall hissed.

( Read the rest of the Christmas series here )

( Read the rest of the Trusted Associates series here )

( Read the rest of the Teller Family History here )

Crossover with Trick 'r Treat and Krampus. A sequel to The Craft. And yes, the title is a reference to Cliff Richard's Mistletoe and Wine, the best Christmas song, fight me if you disagree.

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( Read the rest of the Teller Family History here )

( Read the rest of the Weremarsicorn verse here )

Simon awoke to the sound of bells tinkling in the room beneath his. He slipped out of bed, feeling in the darkness for two pairs of battered plimsolls. They were old shoes, little more than scraps of canvas held together by duct tape. Tonight, they brimmed over with snack-sized candy bars, half-crushed cookies inside crinkly cellophane wrappers, and a half-dozen candy canes pilfered from a careless shopping mall Santa.

He inched the bedroom door open, slipping out onto the darkened landing and making his careful way down the uncarpeted staircase. The sweet-stuffed shoes were not heavy, but they were awkward, and he pressed them close to his chest for fear that he might drop them and spill their precious cargo. He could feel the heat of his body start to melt the chocolate bars, could feel them give and squish under the tight pressure of his fingers, and he prayed it wouldn't matter to the thing that lurked downstairs.

There was no Christmas tree in the Holmes' living room. The fireplace was long since boarded up, the chimney filled in, and even if they'd had one there were no stockings to hang by it with care. A paper plate with a crayon drawing of a star sat in the window, the moonlight glinting off uneven lumps of cheap glue and cheaper glitter. Simon moved to the cracked mantel that sat above the dead hearth, setting the shoes neatly beside the fire guard that had rusted in place years before.

The bells sounded again.

"Krampus?" he whispered, his voice the barest suggestion of a noise.

Nothing answered, but in the moonlight, something moved. Something small, and sleek, and night-fog grey.

"Oh," exclaimed Simon in quiet delight. "Where did you guys come from?"

The ghost cats swarmed about him, filling his ears with their spectral purrs.

( Read the rest of the Holmes Brothers series here )

( Read the rest of the Christmas series here )

The metal frame of the old fashioned lampshade was bent and warped and slightly rusty. Tinsel had been wrapped around the skeletal struts and liberal amounts of masking tape held tarnished baubles and moulting wire-framed robins to the shining web formed by the sagging strands. Skeins of partially-shredded cotton wool balls, coated in glitter, were randomly dotted over the whole assemblage, and a length of mostly burnt-out fairy lights flickered spasmodically beneath the tattered remains of the lampshade's silken tassels.

"Thank you, Harley," said Simon, setting it in a place of honour atop his desk. "It's a beautiful Christmas tree."

( Read the rest of the Holmes Brothers series here )

( Read the rest of the Christmas series here )

The red eye-mask lay on the muddy pavement, it's gold spangles glittering in the reflected headlight of passing traffic. Marshall was practically bouncing with excitement.

"You guys know what this means, right?" he said.

Simon shook his head. Dash shrugged.

Marshall spread his arms wide, encompassing the mask, the wet tarmac, the overcast sky, and the town in general.

"We have our very own costumed hero in Eerie!"

"It's December," said Dash. "Somebody stuck at a boring office Christmas party got it out of a cracker."

"Costumed. Hero." Marshall insisted.

Simon picked up the strip of glittery fabric using a novelty plastic grabber shaped like a Great White shark. Something lumpy and opaque dripped off it and landed with a splat in the murky puddle at his feet.

"Uh, guys?" he said.

The older two turned to look at him.

"I think that's brains," said Simon.

Marshall gasped. Dash sighed.

( Read the rest of the Microwave verse here )

( Read the rest of the Christmas series here )

The animatronic Santa’s eyes were cold and dead, but those of his helpers gleamed bright and wet and full of malevolent intent. They moved in stiff, shuddering jerks, pudgy hands clutching hammers and tongs and wrenches and jagged-toothed saws, and their rubbery faces stretched in a variety of cheery grimaces that revealed the needle-sharp teeth behind the rosy-cheeked facade.

“Should we do something about this?” asked Simon, eyeing the line of children that snaked from the grotto to encircle the entire second floor of the Eerie Mall.

“I dunno,” said Marshall. “What’s our policy on evil robot elves?”

Simon shrugged.

( Read the rest of the Trusted Associates verse here )

( Read the rest of the Christmas series here )

Written for Day 17 of the Advent Calendar Challenge. Today's prompt was "yeti", by lipstickcat

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Today's prompt was "signs", submitted by deifire

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Written for the Advent Calendar Challenge, day 6. The prompt was from lipstickcat, an you can see it here

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Written for the Advent Calendar challenge. Today's prompt from lipstickcat was "candycane".

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So, I was trying to get a head start on some of my prompts for the Advent Calendar challenge, but the story kind of got away from me.

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