I am intrigued that you seem to have picked only relatives from the extended family for your prompts. Is this connected with the people you're expecting to see this Christmas? Also: well done on being ready for Christmas by this morning! I'm pretty sure that if you ask me later in the week how Christmas was, I'll struggle to work out which day it was on, which is the level to which I'm ignoring it this year. Not precisely by choice, more by work.
The grandfather Suzie tapped the GPS tracker thoughtfully, and Lionel looked up. The shadows in the room were cast by floor-standing electric lamps and shouldn't move, but somehow they still danced. When he sat still and just looked out of the corner of his eyes he could see them creep around like Santa's elves. "Santa's turned west," she said. She leaned back in her chair, which creaked softly, and stretched, her arms above her chest and the bones in her spine making little crackling noises. "I think he's got enough skin." "He's coming back?" "Probably." Lionel stood up and went to the dressmaker's dummy in the middle of the room. It was spotlit from above, radiant and holy in a bright nimbus of light that no shadow could penetrate, and draped in Santa's original skin. The floor crackled as his feet stuck to it and he had to pull them free to take each step. Stringy blood flicked off in random directions. "What now?" he asked. Suzie leant forward and checked the GPS tracker again. "He's not stupid," she said. "He knows what we want." "So what?" "So he's not taking the direct route... ah." The GPS tracker beeped. "He's stopped. I think he's delivering a present for us." "And then he'll be back?" "And then he'll be back." Suzie looked at Lionel and half-smiled. "Better get the elves out; he'll need them to help him dress." Lionel stared at the cage where they'd put the elves. The were the size of children but proportioned like spiders: long, spindly arms and legs stretching out far too far from small, bulbous bodies and tiny, bright-eyes heads. They had tight little mouths like sphincters, filled with viciously sharp triangular teeth, and black, bristle-like hairs covered their arms like a fly's legs. Their skin was the colour of milk, with just a hint of green, and they were naked save for something that looked like a cross between a poultice and a nappy. "Great," he said with no enthusiasm. He jingled his pockets, looking for the key to the cage. Out of the corners of his eyes the dancing shadows all scurried back to the cage, confirming his suspicions. "Santa's on the move again," said Suzie. "Expect a jump in-" "Now," said a thick voice. "Ho. Ho. Ho." "Grandfather," said Suzie, turning to greet Santa, who had stepped effortlessly out of nothing. Skin was tied in ropes around his body, covering up the flesh and muscle and fat but still making him look like a mummy done by a trainee embalmer. "Grandfather?" asked Lionel, unlocking the cage. The elves chittered madly as the door swung open. "Mythologically, yes," said Suzie. "He's everyone's grandfather, and the slaughtermaster for Winter." "Ho. Ho. Ho." "And it's time to finish the delivery," said Suzie, pressing the button on the detonator.
Greg - I think I was looking at the week as being written from the perspective of a character who is related to all the prompt relatives. Perhaps enjoying/suffering through Christmas with all of them. You obviously... took a different approach :)
I am curious as to who received the present. Perhaps I am about to find out...
2 comments:
I am intrigued that you seem to have picked only relatives from the extended family for your prompts. Is this connected with the people you're expecting to see this Christmas? Also: well done on being ready for Christmas by this morning! I'm pretty sure that if you ask me later in the week how Christmas was, I'll struggle to work out which day it was on, which is the level to which I'm ignoring it this year. Not precisely by choice, more by work.
The grandfather
Suzie tapped the GPS tracker thoughtfully, and Lionel looked up. The shadows in the room were cast by floor-standing electric lamps and shouldn't move, but somehow they still danced. When he sat still and just looked out of the corner of his eyes he could see them creep around like Santa's elves.
"Santa's turned west," she said. She leaned back in her chair, which creaked softly, and stretched, her arms above her chest and the bones in her spine making little crackling noises. "I think he's got enough skin."
"He's coming back?"
"Probably."
Lionel stood up and went to the dressmaker's dummy in the middle of the room. It was spotlit from above, radiant and holy in a bright nimbus of light that no shadow could penetrate, and draped in Santa's original skin. The floor crackled as his feet stuck to it and he had to pull them free to take each step. Stringy blood flicked off in random directions.
"What now?" he asked.
Suzie leant forward and checked the GPS tracker again. "He's not stupid," she said. "He knows what we want."
"So what?"
"So he's not taking the direct route... ah." The GPS tracker beeped. "He's stopped. I think he's delivering a present for us."
"And then he'll be back?"
"And then he'll be back." Suzie looked at Lionel and half-smiled. "Better get the elves out; he'll need them to help him dress."
Lionel stared at the cage where they'd put the elves. The were the size of children but proportioned like spiders: long, spindly arms and legs stretching out far too far from small, bulbous bodies and tiny, bright-eyes heads. They had tight little mouths like sphincters, filled with viciously sharp triangular teeth, and black, bristle-like hairs covered their arms like a fly's legs. Their skin was the colour of milk, with just a hint of green, and they were naked save for something that looked like a cross between a poultice and a nappy.
"Great," he said with no enthusiasm. He jingled his pockets, looking for the key to the cage. Out of the corners of his eyes the dancing shadows all scurried back to the cage, confirming his suspicions.
"Santa's on the move again," said Suzie. "Expect a jump in-"
"Now," said a thick voice. "Ho. Ho. Ho."
"Grandfather," said Suzie, turning to greet Santa, who had stepped effortlessly out of nothing. Skin was tied in ropes around his body, covering up the flesh and muscle and fat but still making him look like a mummy done by a trainee embalmer.
"Grandfather?" asked Lionel, unlocking the cage. The elves chittered madly as the door swung open.
"Mythologically, yes," said Suzie. "He's everyone's grandfather, and the slaughtermaster for Winter."
"Ho. Ho. Ho."
"And it's time to finish the delivery," said Suzie, pressing the button on the detonator.
Greg - I think I was looking at the week as being written from the perspective of a character who is related to all the prompt relatives. Perhaps enjoying/suffering through Christmas with all of them. You obviously... took a different approach :)
I am curious as to who received the present. Perhaps I am about to find out...
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