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Writing Prompt Responses

Day 20 Challenge: Poor Soul in the Santa costume.

There is a slight whooshing noise as Boulder is briefly adjacent to the lunar surface. Then the wormhole closes. The bell ringing Santa Claus turns and looks down the alley behind him to see another Santa standing there looking almost as woozy as he feels. Through the alcoholic haze, he feels a small stirring of pride however. At least HE respects the uniform. This guy's beard is half gone, and bits of the suit are missing too. It's not even patched! And by god, the bastard is so drunk his actual SKIN is blurry looking. He may be a bad Santa, but even he has his standards. A moment later, a shipping container appears, along with a sassy looking girl in a ball cap. She and the patchwork Santa open the doors to reveal it is full to the brim with presents, and two guys in some kinda spandex suits... He almost has time to say “What the fu-?” before there is a tremendous rush of air and the shipping container is empty. The girl and the bleary looking Santa close the doors on the two spandex guys, and then there is another whoosh and Santa is gone. The girl winks at him, and then makes a pulling gesture. Both she and the empty shipping container vanish.


There is a long moment while he considers this.


Then he pulls out his flask, uncaps it, and empties it on the ground.
 

Day 1 Challenge: Oh, the weather outside is frightful...
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Hadrian gazed over to his brother. Damn, it was cold tonight. Winter was always the hardest time of the year to survive. Colder weather, fewer people outside that might give them change... though those that were out tended to be kinder - appropriate for the Christmas season, he supposed.


His stomach growled as he shuffled in his sleeping bag, trying to make himself more comfortable on the thing roll mat that separate him from the harsh weather. The crumpled newspaper stuffed inside for insulation rustled as he moved, and his little brother beside him stirred from the noise. He'd been sleeping soundly, managing to get some sleep despite the harsh cold and uncomfortable sleeping arrangements. He made his own small rustling sound as he turned around to face Hadrian.


"Hade?" he whispered, half-awake.


"Go back to sleep buddy, it's nothing."


"...Alright." he replied after a moment, turning back to face the sky as he huddled tight to the alley wall.


Hadrian wondered often what his brother thought of him. He did his best to shelter the poor guy from the worst that life might throw at him. Steering away from gangs, drugs, violence, protecting him from mindless thugs that felt like beating up someone who couldn't fight back. Whenever there wasn't enough food to share between them, he always made sure that Felix ate first. He'd say he wasn't hungry, and luckily his brother was still young and naive enough to take that at face value.


He could feel his eyes drooping, as a mixture of tiredness and the cold lulled him to sleep. He needed it, so he let it happen, as his body went limp and his breathing slowed.



 
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Day 2 Challenge: A card for someone not seen in a long time...
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The pen scratched across the card's inside, inscribing poorly-spelled words in messy print.


Felix


I mis you. Im sory. Mery Christmas.


Love Hadrian


Once he'd finished writing in his slow, scrawly font, he sealed the small card within its envelope, writing Felix's name on the front. He reached into his pocket, finding a lighter, and he set one corner alight as he held the other. The envelope and the card inside burned quickly despite the cool air, warming Hadrian for a moment before it burned into his hand, searing his now open palm as he crushed the last embers inside his fist, before throwing the ashen dust into the chill air. He watched the motes fly away on the breeze, letting one tear fall to the ground beneath him before he drew back, receding into the alcove he'd been huddling inside.


It didn't get easier as time went by... but he had to do something. 


It was Christmas, after all.





Day 18 Challenge: A Christmas Ghost
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Footsteps made Hadrian stir from his sleep inside the alcove. Sitting up inside his sleeping bag, he looked around himself, to see a dark figure dressed in a black mask and dark clothing, a box with wrapping paper and a ribbon covering it in his hands, and a large rucksack on his back.


"You don't look like Santa." He stated, a morose tone to his voice.


"Closest you're gonna get kid. Listen, I was given a note with your gift. I'm...sorry about your brother. The authorities are still looking, I promise. There's extra in your box this year. Merry Christmas."


Hadrian took the present from the man, and he watched as the man turned translucent, an ethereal grey figure now, and ran through the wall beside him, rucksack and all.


"Merry Christmas." He replied belatedly.


They'd given him... extra? He didn't think that anyone would keep such close track of someone like him, and yet... they'd shown such kindness. He decided, then and there, that when he found his brother he'd be the same. A superhero that looked out for people, and he'd be able to take care of his brother with any money he made doing so. It'd be perfect.
 
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Day 4 Challenge: Lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you; not what I had in mind!

How had things gone so very wrong? Roger couldn't understand it. Admittedly the category of 'things Roger couldn't understand' was fairly large, but this was just baffling! He'd made it halfway down the eastern seaboard, spreading mayhem and fear, more or less at will. Now suddenly, he was facing real resistance. For a goddamn casino robbery he'd decided to do as a lark.


He'd waltzed in the place feeling like a Bond villain, and for the first ten minutes things went great. The people were all scared of him, and behaved in a delightfully spineless, sniveling fashion. They opened the vault for him, and brought him plates of food from the buffet, and everything was hunky dory until those meddling kids showed up. They didn't even have blue cards! Just a buncha trainees from the local AEGIS franchise showing off. Or so he'd thought. They taunted him, and he'd fallen for it hard. He followed them outside, and they led him on a merry chase down the street, using snowmobiles to navigate the ice he'd laid down. Where the fuck did they find snowmobiles in goddamn Baltimore? They were so quick on those things! And he was so slow... by the time they had lured him across the river, which he'd obligingly frozen for them, like an idiot, he was so out of breath he could hardly move. He should have realized that they had let him catch up. He should have realized that they'd crashed their snowmobiles into him on purpose. Their shouting back and forth hadn't been panic, it had been banter. That line about the sleigh ride, just before the mid air snowmobile crash and daring midair rescue by the flying kid... that was a really good line. Roger wished he could think of lines like that on the fly. All he'd thought of to say when they lit the film of gas and chemicals coating him on fire was “Rahhhrrrrrgh!”


Lame.


At the very least he could have done an OZ reference and shrieked that he was melting! I mean, he literally was at the time. How hard could it be, to banter like that?


Anyway. Next time would be different. He backed himself up and made another run at the door, his twelfth since waking up in jail. He was The Glacier! Any minute now, the door would yield, and he'd be out for round two. He should start thinking up good lines now...



Check out what is directly across the river from the casino!


https://www.google.com/maps/place/Baltimore,+MD/@39.2716489,-76.628302,1280m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m5!3m4!1s0x89c803aed6f483b7:0x44896a84223e758!8m2!3d39.2903848!4d-76.6121893


I bet the news media still gave those kids are hard time for causing a chemical spill just to stop the next global ice age...
 

CHRISTMAS CHALLENGE: DAY 1
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latest
UrialUrsler


Oh the Weather Outside is Frightful...



Urial watched the weather outside, totally fascinated as the heavy fell upon the brightly lit city during the night, It was gorgeous really. The black of the night really brought out those beautiful flashing lights, even If he couldn't see all their colors, just knowing that they were illuminating the streets below with shimmering red's & green's was more than enough to bring happiness and interest to him. Heather was out partying with some friends, no doubt getting drunk off of eggnog and probably snogging some random poor fellow beneath the mistletoe. He himself had been invited but had decided to stay inside this holiday, not because he didn't want to go but simply because he liked reliving some old memories of his that were deeply cherished with old friends long passed. There was just one particular memory that stood out to him, though, no matter how long ago It was. The Christmas Truce. 


One of the most violent conflicts in human history managed to nearly have one day of collective peace and quiet on a single, special day. He had witnessed it himself and It was such a wonderful site, to see two utterly different people divided by their governments and ideas to simply unite for one day and take some joy in playing a simple game of football. He recalled other soldiers simply fraternizing and having conversations with each other as If they were school children, talking about their lives and everything that happened. 


Smiling at the recall of the memory, Urial rested his head upon his paws and soon fell into a slumber upon the couch, his mind continuing to vividly recall Christmas's long past as he went into a realm of dreams....





 




 
 
Day 10 Challenge: Festival of lights

Deep in the darkest hole in the world the commonwealth could find, a tiny light flickers, and then another, and another. After a few moments, nine little lights flicker and gutter in the stale air. Nine little depressions filled with oil, painstakingly carved into the rock wall of the cell. He is not allowed tools of any kind, not even clothes. The depressions took years to carve out. He is not allowed oil either, or means to make a spark, but then, his people never needed oil, only faith. Or so the story goes. Softly, he sings the Ma'Oz Tzur and says a prayer for the safety of his wife and son. An alarm begins to blare in the distance. They'll be coming soon, to investigate these little flames. This little miracle. He sits on the stone shelf that has served as his bed these uncounted years. He is relaxed and ready. He rests with his palms open and upright in his lap. They are coming. And god willing, he will have one more miracle today. Either way, he will not be in their cage anymore. He closes his eyes and stills his heart.


“I am coming Chris. One way or another, I am coming.” In a deeper voice, he intones:


“Sh'ma Yisra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed.”


“There's more, but I forget the rest...”


The door to his cell swings wide and agents enter, outlined in the dim light of his menorah. And with the barest tell-tale flicker of muscle, he makes his move.
 
Urial Ursler


A Card for someone not seen in a long time....



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Urial sat atop a small chair by a desk in his own room, a pile of letters and envelopes nearly reaching the ceiling on all sides of him as he began to reach the very last one of them. Each and every letter he was made for friends long since passed, those who didn't have the luxury or the curse of living a life so much longer than everyone else's. Though he got to help so many others during his life, there were always those who slipped through the gaps, those who he could have done more for. People who could have lived a lot longer than they originally did but It was an unfortunate set of circumstances when he found that one person who couldn't be helped no matter the amount of help provided for them. Some people...simply died, no matter how much you did for them. One of those people was a dear friend of his back a few years ago during his Commonwealth years. Rapture was an incident that incited more collateral damage than It did death, but there were those who weren't so lucky. So now he was writing a card to them. 


"Dear Larissa


I hope you're having a fantastic Christmas wherever you are friend. You never were a particularly religious person but It's nice to think that you finally got to go to a nice white sand beach and drink tequila whilst getting a tan. You never really did shut up about that Holiday you were planning to have but you didn't get to go to It in this life. Hopefully, you got to go in the next one. 


Love Urial" 


Sighing as he put the letter into an envelope and stacked it on the pile, he still only had a few more to go for those long past...





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Day 9 Challenge: Dashing through the snow

The air seemed to be on fire in his lungs, in spite, or perhaps because of the chill. His breaths were coming in ragged steaming gasps. He skidded around a corner, into the shadow of a pedestrian bridge, taking shelter from the snow coming down, as well as finding a dry spot to stand for a moment. His feet are cold. His powers make him faster than any human in the snow, but don't give him any protection from cold. And his pursuer is faster still. Almost seems like he's being toyed with. There is a tap on his shoulder, causing him to jump hard enough to hit his head on the bridge. Dazed he turns to face his pursuer. His outfit is outlandish: spandex that appears to have been colored on with crayon... when he speaks, he sounds slightly... impaired.


“Hey. That is not your purse. Definitely not your purse. You shouldn't take things that don't belong to you.”


“Ah man! Is that why you been chasing me? Stupid purse? I just wanted to get some boots, man! My feet are cold.”


“Not chasing you. That's the other guy. Heh heh. Guy. I've been waiting here. Have some boots. Nice ones. They'll fit. I checked in about a minute. Goodwill. Nice and warm. Trade you for purse? Other guy has worse offer. You won't like him at all. Definitely very harsh. Very strict. Here.”


The weirdo hands him boots, and, as if in a dream, he hands over the purse.


“Try 'em on. Check if they fit.”


“You said they would!”


“No. Said I'd check in a minute. You have to check or the deal is off.”


“OK man, Jeez! You're a freak, you know that?


“Nah. ...Nah. Not a freak... A weirdo. Other guy says so. The Guy chasing you.”


The thief undoes his worn out tennis shoes and slips on the boots. They fit perfectly, and they are snug and warm. He looks up to thank the weirdo, but he is not there anymore. Nor is there any sign he ever was... a voice behind him startles him out of his wits for the second time in as many minutes.


“You're awfully lucky he got to you first, punk. Little weirdo cheats at this game. Whatever. Merry Christmas, kid. Keep your nose clean.”



Day 19 challenge: winter park scene

The boy was standing in the park in the snow. More snow was falling. Heavy wet snow. Slick underfoot and soaking through his thin jacket. Cold damp leeched in through his worn out tennis shoes. He sniffed hard to clear his sinuses, hacked, and spat a giant glob of mucus into the snow. Merry Christmas. Shelter was full. Got some soup at least, but he'll be sleeping under that pedestrian bridge again tonight. If only he could afford a decent pair of boots and jacket. His powers would keep him warm if only he had decent insulation. Unfortunately snow only made him fast, not warm. Not any warmer than an ordinary kid running around anyway. Helluva lot faster though. And he could corner in snow like it was a rubberized track coated with grip tape. But the wet still leaked in. In fact, running made it worse. The friction melted the snow, barely to above the freezing point. His shoes had filled with ice just getting here from the shelter. He had a feeling he wouldn't survive the night without at least boots. Temperature was dropping fast, and he couldn't keep moving, with his shoes filling with ice On the other hand he couldn't just lay down and sleep either.


He saw a posh looking lady jogging down the path flanked by two bodyguards. One of them carried a fancy upscale purse for her. The purse alone would probably be worth a pair of boots in trade. He hesitated. Here was a line he had yet to cross. And yet, when he weighed his life in the balance, shitty though it was, he wanted to live. The snow seemed to pause in its descent. If you looked closely, you could see it was still moving. But only just barely. He felt the snow squelch between his toes. And he begins to run.
 
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Day 3 Challenge: Carols on the Radio


Portia Clemmond's vision clouds for a moment, and then becomes crystal clear. She is dimly aware of explosions at the periphery of her consiousness, but mostly she just feels... free. She floats. Free of her body, a vibration of pure energy, spreading out and out. Far beyond the confines of what the knights had calculated, far beyond the theoretical limits set by her testing protocols. She spreads across the whole world, and outward, beyond it, to the stars. Perhaps, out there, beings listen. Perhaps not. In baltimore, few notice, distracted by events far more local and portentous. But across the globe anyone with a radio is treated to a strange concert interrupting regular programming. A concert of one. One hesitant, untrained female voice, gaining confidence as she goes, singing christmas songs. All she ever knew, one right after the other. Eventually, her voice fades out, and as of yet the phenomenon has not repeated. But for everyone who heard Portia Clemmond's last words, there persists a feeling of hope and optimism about the future. “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Let Nothing You Dismay...”
 
Day 23 challenge: Peppermint Everywhere

Guy Garbo has had a rough day. A rough life, he would tell you, if you asked. Possibly even if you didn't. But the day the outsiders tried to breach the dimensional barrier was one of the worst days. Both times, in fact. They were repelled only at great cost, and ultimately not at a cost that the world could afford. Either time. But we're getting ahead of the story. The third time, as they say, is the charm. The third time, he knew their weakness. Peppermint Schnapps. It was so deadly toxic to them that mere micrograms when aerosolized could liquify whole platoons of the invaders. This time, they were repelled in a matter of hours. This time, the only cost would be the clean up. And the paperwork. Oh, the line items they would need for this cleanup... Guy stooped a little lower just thinking about it. And the smell! Peppermint. Peppermint everywhere.



Day 17 Challenge: someone waits for you

Rae glanced up as the boss walked in. “There's somebody waiting in your office boss. They were here when I got here, and disinclined to wait in waiting room.” The comptroller grunted and hung up his coat over the heating vent to dry. He went into his office to see who was there.


Rae glanced up as I walked in. “There's somebody waiting in your office boss. They were here when I got here, and disinclined to wait in waiting room.” I hesitated, savoring the odd sense of deja vu. I started to take off my coat to hang it up, when I noticed it was already hanging over the heat register. I decided to leave it on. I opened the door to my office, every sense screaming at me to stop. It was not my office. It was the reception area. Again. I went in anyway.


Rae glanced up. “.moor gnitiaw ni tiaw ot denilcnisid dna ,ereh tog I nehw ereh erew yehT .ssob eciffo ruoy ni gnitiaw ydobemos s'erehT” I stepped out. Rae was there, looking up at me expectantly. Also from through the door. I dialed down my limiter and made a break for my office.



Day 18 Challenge: A Christmas ghost

There were at least a hundred afterimages in my office, jittering back and forth like the oracle the first time he had coffee. Some were translucent, some were more solid. Only one was perfectly still, and he was sitting at my desk with his feet up. I poured us both a scotch. He tipped his hat to me and poured us each a scotch. “Good idea,” we said, more or less in unison. “Make it a double” chorused the afterimages. The Guy with his feet on my desk knocked back his scotch as hard as I did. “Skảl” we chorused. “So what brings you here?” he asked me. “This is my office.” I shot back. “Why are you waiting in it?” “Oh no, Guy. This one is on you my friend. You chose to come back. Twice now. That's what got the whole storm started. Maybe, just maybe, if you take the oracle's advice, and ride this one out, the storm will abate. Then again. Maybe not. Maybe it's too late. Maybe the third time pays for all. Who knows? Hindsight is not 20/20 Guy. You, of all people, should know that by now. The oracle knew all along, but you just wouldn't listen. But I suppose that's his curse, isn't it. Like Cassandra. Always prophesy truly, and never, ever, be believed. What would you do? Stop prophesying I suppose? Hmmph. But to try to change the prophesy? Paradox. Bad mojo. Shouldn't have done. Again. Now get outta here wouldja? I already got my feet up, I wanna get some shut eye before the meeting with the director. K? Amscray buddy.”


And with that, I pushed the brim of my hat down over my eyes, and pretended to sleep. When I woke, I was alone. The intercom buzzed, and I sat up and thumbed the button. “Yeah?”


“Somebody here to see you sir. He says he's been waiting a long, long time.”


“Shit... Well, send him in, I guess.”
 
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Challenge Day 24: Gift for a friend

“Hello yes. I am here to see Anthony Moufinz. Yes. Tell him Dr. D is here under flag of truce. Yes. Yes. Well I see, that it is perfectly understandable, and I would expect no less, however I hope when it has been sufficiently poked and prodded you will convey my gift to your master. I assure you, he will be most pleased with it. Yes. Well I will just leave it here on the steps shall I? Indeed. Well yes of COURSE it has a security code to stop anyone from mucking with it. Oh. Yes. You should probably have that. Well I don't normally use radio transmissions, but are you equipped for secure burst transmissions? Very good. Uploading to your server... now.”



Challenge Day 25: Family Bonding Time

“Are you all sitting quite comfortably? No? Ropes a little too tight are they? Well I shouldn't let it trouble you, mm? You'll all be dead momentarily. I suppose you are all wondering why I have called the family together like this. Most likely you are. That is because you are all sub moronic imbeciles. I obviously called you all here so that I can kill you. You are tied so that you will not have the opportunity to resist my will, you see. You need to be erased. There can be no trace of my origins, no compares to make to my DNA. I am unique in all of creation. But rejoice! For in your bid for life, in your striving to survive, you gave rise to... me! And for that I now repay you.” The doctor strode away toward his new life, free from distractions or fear of identification. He did not look back. If he had, he would have seen his ancestral home along with all of his ancestors sinking rapidly into a pool of 11 molar HCl. The gags muffled their screams, but their eyes spoke eloquently about their feelings about this particular family gathering. A few of them actually looked relieved. Some of the previous reunions had been really bad...
 
Challenge Day 26: For whom does the bell toll?

Aaron sat in the pew, transfixed by the sounds of the bell choir. His condition made him a little tone deaf, and a bit of a philistine when it came to music generally. Something about the harmony and particular resonances of the hand bells spoke to him. Also the beautiful teamwork of the piece. So many individuals working seamlessly together to make art. Tears stood in his eyes, and one solitary tear rolled slowly down his cheek. Just before it fell, he caught it, and put it in a special vial in his pocket for safe keeping. Commonwealth would want to have a look at that. He returned his full attention to the choir, but the spell was broken. The music was still nice, but the chills were gone.



Challenge Day 27: Stroke of midnight

It was nearly midnight. The priest held out the host to Aaron. Up to now he had been an observer, visiting, but not participating. He had told himself it was a kind of cultural anthropology, not so different from his home field of physics. He was still a scientist. There were explanations for everything under the sun. He felt this in his bones. Given time, all unknowns would become known. All mysteries solved. Patient, meticulous investigation had accomplished SO much.


And yet.


Something fluttered in his chest. Something in the ritual spoke to something in him. Something deeper than the marrow in his bones. Something ineffable and forever beyond patient investigation. He closed his eyes as he took the host on his tongue, and the church bell began to strike midnight. And for the moment, he let go of his desire to know, and embraced the pure mystery. And perhaps, it returned his embrace.
 
Day 28 challenge. A hearth, a tree, stockings.


Home.


There is nothing I can write that will capture the feeling of this photograph.


So I will share a few of my own.


These are home. These are Christmas. 


image.jpegimage.jpegimage.jpeg
 
Christmas Prompts [Day 1] 


Oh, the weather outside is frightful…

Oliver sipped his cocoa as he watched a snowflake fall on the glass of his window. It almost looked like it was asking for help, before it melted away. The falling piece of ice couldn’t have known that Oliver’s window was the same temperature as a sunny day in Virginia. Unfortunately, it was the victim in Oliver’s recent mission to make sure that the first few days of this snow flurry didn’t wreck his holiday spirit.


Oliver had always hated the weather this time of the year. Jack Frost was cruel son of a gun and Oliver knew that if he stepped out of his house for even the smallest reason, he would be cursed by the sniffles and shakes. Every year it happened, but not this time, no. He didn’t have his mother soup to help wane the cruel effects of the season, so he had to watch for himself this time around.


All he had to do, was not go outsid-


“Oh god, that isn’t John! Who is he? What does he want? How did he get in!?”


Oliver looked through his window as the thought pinged on his radar. It was coming from right across the street, in a separate apartment compound. The weather blew harder for just a moment, as if it was mocking him. Nevertheless, this was fine. It was something the police could han-


“He’s gonna tear my door down! It’s not gonna last long! Oh god, what am I going to do!?”


Oliver cursed as he pocketed his phone, threw on a sweater, and sprinted outside. This guy was going to be death of him, but if he didn’t do something, it was going to be the death of that guy.


Darn you Jack Frost.



Christmas Prompts [Day 2]


A card for someone not seen in a long time…
 

Oliver smiled as his sister sat in his lap, helping him work on their masterpiece for the seasons. It was a grand day to be alive. His ride back to Norfolk had been wrought with nothing but peace and warm chocolate delights. Still, the journey paled in comparison to the destination. After a big hug from all of his family, Oliver had let himself be dragged away from his parents by his little sister, humoring her attempt to move him.


If he hadn’t, she would be sad, and a good brother would never let such a thing happen for an unjust reason. Sat down in an old oak chair made by his father years ago, Cherish sat on his knees, getting comfortable, before pulling out a packet of construction paper.


They were making cards.


And cards they did make. Oliver would never claim to be an artist, but what he lacked artistically, his sister made up with sheer passion and the genuine creativity only a child as special as she was could possess.


After they were done, Oliver asked, “So, are you ready to give these to Mom and Dad?”


She shook her head, “These aren’t for them, silly olly.”


Oliver raised an eyebrow, “Oh? Then who do you plan on giving these to?”


“Granny and Grandpa.”



Christmas Prompts [Day 3] 


Carols on the radio.

“Olly, I want to listen to the radio.”


Car rides with Cherish were always interesting.


Oliver’s little sister had this penchant for getting bored, and for better or worst, Oliver had nurtured it with never letting her suffer for long. He always had a game to play on his phone or a piece of candy for her to chew. He’d never let her suffer for long if he could help it, and he didn’t have a reason to stop now.


Turning a switch on his old, but trusty car, Oliver felt the car fill with music as the volume was turned up.


“I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus! Underneath the Mistleto-”


Oliver turned the radio off, and turned to a bemused Cherish, “Let’s...give it a minute or two.”


He didn’t need Cherish asking those sorts of questions until she 7...or maybe 8.



Christmas Prompts [Day 4] 


When I said “It’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you,” this is not what I had in mind.

“Cherish, contrary to what the radio says, it’s kind of hard to sleigh around here. We don’t have many hills, you know?”


Cherish looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with both confusion and sadness. With how she was holding up her makeshift sleigh like a shield, as if to protect herself from the truth, Oliver wasn’t surprised by her next words.


“But the radio man said it was lovely weather. I want to sleigh with you, Olly! Come on, please! It’ll be fun!”


Oliver scratched the back of his head in thought, before he had an idea. Going out to his father’s work shed, he grabbed a piece of rope, before heading back out to the front where Cherish waited.


Under her watchful and curious eyes, Oliver tied a piece of rope to the front of the sleigh Cherish had made in the span of a few hours. Getting her on the sleigh, Oliver gave a tug at the rope, making sure it was tight enough, before he took off, using what little strength he had to pull his little sister across the snow. Her laughs of happiness echoed off the trees around them.


...This probably wasn’t the song had intended.



Christmas Prompts [Day 5] 


Putting up holiday decorations.

“Oliver, we’re missing some of the ornaments. Could you go and see if their upstairs in the attic?”


“Sure, mom. Give me a second, Cherish, I gotta go and get some stuff from the attic.”


His little sister’s disappointed sighs followed him as he went upstairs, opening up a mostly unused door to his left, and continuing up, before the stairs opened up into the dusty storage space that existed above which he and his family slept. It was probably dangerous, with all the stuff they had put up here, so he needed to be carefu-


“Woh! Look at all this stuff. Mom never let's me up here!”


Oliver’s power kept him from gasping, but he was still surprised at not hearing his sister follow him up the stairs.


Sighing, he looked down at her, “Go back downstairs, Cherish. It’s dangerous up here. If you get hurt, it’s gonna be my fault.”


Cherish pouted, “Ok, Olly. Only because I love you, though!”


She smiled teasingly, before she skipped back downstairs, a safety hazard in of itself, but you have to take some small losses to win the big war.


Bringing back down a box of green and red glass ornaments that came from back when they had all lived in Ireland, Oliver spent the rest of the night putting up decorations with his family.



Christmas Prompts [Day 7]


Who’s Krampus, and why is Raguel so scared of them?

If you asked a person on the street who Krampus was, they could tell you plenty of things. He was the foil of Santa Claus, the punisher of misbehaving children, and maybe even a representation of Satan. They’d all be wrong, of course. Or, in any case, correct in the wrong way.


Raguel’s ranks didn’t fear the stories of old. They didn’t check their children or keep them safe during the holidays in fear of them being taken away. They didn’t fear the sound of chains whipping at their doors.


What they did fear, what they had created on that fateful night. Christmas. They feared the boy who held his little sister in his arms, their organization's name a whisper on his lips. They feared how the experience had spoiled the goodness in this boy’s heart.


All except a few.


Harold Judge was known as the most sadistic of those who followed Raguel. His brutality filled the place in his heart, where most would have fear. At least, that was what he would like those under him to believe.


In truth, as he hung from the ceiling, bound by chains, he felt more than simple unease. His face was set in a calm, stern gaze that rested evenly on the colorless wall in front of him.


“I don’t want to die here.”


Of course, if he was truly fearless, Oliver wouldn’t be hearing such thoughts, which is exactly what he needed. Oliver picked up his weapon of choice. A weapon of japanese make, very simple in design. The modern Sasumata was designed for non-lethal self-defense and capture.


With his prey in his hands, it was time to make him bleed his secrets out like a dying hog without him ever opening his mouth.



Christmas Prompts [Day 8]


Wearing your Sunday best.

Oliver allowed the first punch to hit nothing but air, shifting his neck aside and locking his leg in place as he twisted, his other leg reaching out and hitting the inside of his assailant's knee.


His cry of pain pushed his companions into action, but also sparked the beginning of their adrenaline. Fight or Flight reflex, Oliver’s most valued ally in any fight. They were stronger than Oliver, having almost a 20 lbs advantage of the slight build of a boy who had spent his childhood in the local gymnasium.


However, even the strongest of punches could be dealt with if you knew when and where it was coming from.


Oliver stepped away from the writhing bodies of bruised men, their bodies covered in small bruises, but honestly, it was exhaustion that had done them in. Oliver breathed heavily as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt. It was then he realized what he was wearing.


Covered in sweat and dirt from his fight, was his mother’s latest Christmas gift. A black sweater with a knitted red tie design. It was a parody of fancy, for sure, but a gift from his mother was to be treated with all of the importance of a tried and true tuxedo.



Especially the one he had to wear for tomorrow’s neighborhood Christmas party.
 
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Christmas Prompts [Day 6]


Picture Prompt

christmas-food.jpg



Oliver stared at the cookies his mother had just put on his plate. They looked delicious, but something about him...it concerned them.


“Mom, don’t you think these cookies look a bit too perfect?”


His mom looked at him and at the cookies, before she laughed and shook her head, “Sweetie, how could you be worried about something like that?”


Oliver stared at her for a second, before responding, “Mom, you do know that cooking isn’t your strong point, right?”


Oliver’s mom paused for a moment, before she smiled, a bit tighter, “Well, it's a good thing I didn’t cook these. Your sister did.”


That...prompted many more questions.



Christmas Prompts [Day 9]


Dashing through the snow…

Through the lights of Norfolk’s street lamps, a blur ran across the pavement, the figure’s face strained as it kicked light snow up with it’s controlled sprint. It’s arms breaking the air in front of it, the figure made quick headway farther and farther down the street, towards it’s mysterious destination.


Heavy breaths filled the air as it stopped and rested, its goal in sight. In front of it, just across the street, with the trees adorned by lights in joyous fashion and bushes covered in golden ribbon, the park was Christmas time incarnate.


And there, amongst the bright lights of the decorations, Oliver smiled as he realized he had made it for the celebrations. The sound of singing filled the air, and trudging hurriedly in the last few feet of his journey, Oliver watched as his sister sang “Joy to the World” along with her preschool class.


The singing could never be expected to be better than the norm for kids that age, but Oliver was filled with intense pride.


And as Cherish saw him watching her sing, her smile growing bigger and her voice increasing in pitch, he was also filled with intense gratitude to the higher power that had allowed him to be there on time.



Christmas Prompts [Day 10]


A show of lights… a lightshow, if you would.

The Norfolk Firework Show was a collective effort by many of the crafters in the area, but the task usually befell two main families.


The Jin Family were adept at gunpowder and the creation of fireworks, tying knots and creating molds that filled with the air with bright choreographed lights.


The McGenty Family, however, was adept at carpentry, and it was through their expertise and drive that the grand stage for the fireworks, made new each year, seemed to grow grander and grander throughout the decade they had been participating.


Oliver sat with his family around him, his father making a pleasant hum as he watched his fine work be admired by the people around him. Next to him, his sister also hummed. That was most likely because of all the people enjoying the cupcakes she had given them.


It was strange that his sister was so good at cooking, but he couldn’t argue with the results. While she seemed to have a gift for pastries and sweets, Oliver wouldn’t be surprised if she showed similar promise in other delicacies in the future.


The mumbling of the crowd around them stalled as the torches around them were put out with wet towels. The field they had set up at was dim for but a moment, before the first shot took off.


As the air was filled with the first sparkling white snowflake, Oliver felt his mother hug him, his sister and father joining in. Truly a McGenty Christmas.



Christmas Prompts [Day 11]


In the meadow, we can build a snowman…

Oliver watched his sister roll up snow for the last piece of the puzzle. Hefting the lump of snow in her hand, smushing it up in the hopes it would stay in the form of a circle, or a stable oval, at least, Cherish made her way back over to Oliver, handing him her reward.


Oliver didn’t have the heart to point out it was too small, and she looked tuckered out, so he took the offered ball out of her hand and placed on the stacked body of the snowman that stood behind him.


They stood out in the small unpurchased piece of land out in front of their family’s house, standing in the cold as they looked at their creation.


“It doesn’t look quite right, Olly.”


“It’s still missing a nose, Cherish. Some other things, too.”


“Oh! I’ll go get some from Mom. Be right back! Be nice to Wilfred.”


Oliver watched her go, making her way across the street after looking both ways, before he picked up two nearby sticks. They were thick, but good looking sticks.


Shoving them into ‘Wilfred’, Oliver had to chance to react as the sticks immediately animated and tried to grab out at him, the misshapen snowman sliding across the ground as it tried to grab a hold of Oliver. Oliver bit back a scream as the stick whacked him in the gut, before he let his breath out and opened his eyes.


He was not going to be beaten by a pile of glorified slush.


Cherish returned 10 minutes later, having been kept back by a sudden conversation from her mom. Running over to Oliver, she called out, “Oliver, I got the carrot and coal for Wilfr-...”


She was cut short as she watched Oliver pick himself up off the ground lamely, looking wet and tired. Beside him was a pile of demolished snowman and two broken sticks.


“Wilfred?”


Oliver was suddenly alert as he heard the hidden danger in his sister’s voice.


“No, don’t start-I can explain!”


Then the crying started.



Christmas Prompts [Day 12]


Picture Prompt

broken-christmas.jpg



“No, wait, Cherish! Be careful!”


“Haha, don’t worry, Olly. This is super ea-woops!”


Oliver watched in horror as his little sister let one of the crystal silver ornaments in her hands fall out of her grip, and watched it shatter on the ground.


Oliver could hear the thoughts of his suddenly fearful daughter, but even worse, he could hear the concerned mental voice of his mother, who was coming to make sure they were alright.


There was no way that this was going to end well, so with a sudden impulse, Oliver took the box of ornaments from his sister and held them in his hands, just as his mother walked into the room.


As her eyes lit up in anger at the sight of her smashed finery, Oliver amended his statement. There was no way this was going to end well for himself.



Christmas Prompts [Day 13]


A Yuletide nightmare

Oliver tossed and turned in his bed, grumbling and rolling in his sheets as his mind gradually degraded into horrible thoughts and twisted anxieties.


“Enough,” Oliver shouted as he woke up, his voice filling the room. He was momentarily afraid that he had woken someone up, but sunlight splashed through his window.


Sighing, Oliver picked himself up and made his way downstairs, smelling some delicious cooking going on. Mom must have out done herself. Arriving at the Kitchen, Oliver stood in shock as he saw the woman he had called Mom for the past 19 years.


“Oh, hello, honey bunny. What’s got you so up and about this early?”


This woman, however much she sounded like her, wasn’t his mom. Her hard, but kind features had been exchanged for cartoon cheeks and dark pink dimples. Her eyes were circles. Perfect circles.


Oliver looked around him. His entire house was like this. All the pots and pans, even the oven. It all looked like he was in some cartoon. Some horrifyingly abnormal feeling cartoon.


“Since your up so early, maybe you could wake your sister up.”


Oliver shifted uncomfortably, but nodded out of reflex. Her voice was very much his mother’s. However, before Oliver could begin to make his way back up the stairs to his little sister’s room, his “not-mom” opened the oven and gestured for him to look inside.


Oliver bent down and gasped in horror as he saw-


Oliver woke up breathing heavily, his room dark and the sun still hiding. He let his hand feel his forehead. That was it, no matter how good they were, he couldn’t eat his sister’s goodies as a late night stack any longer.



Christmas Prompts [Day 14]


Angels from on high

“They say every time you ring a bell, an angel gets it’s wings, Olly.”


Oliver watched his little sister as she continuously rang her small Christmas bell, and said, “Well, it looks like a lot of angels will be getting their wings today, now won’t they? I’m sure they’ll be grateful.”


“Actually, we’d like you stop.”


The McGenty siblings froze at the beautiful and yet entirely alien voice. Turning to it, they were unable to process what they saw.


A shining example of beauty clothed in innocence and adorned with 10 sets of large angelic wings, looking at them both in gentle admonishment.


Oliver cleared his throat, “Excuse me, who are you?”


The being shook her head, “That has no importance. All you need to know is ringing that bell for the sakes of wingless angels is-”


Cherish rang her bell again.


Oliver and Cherish watched in horror as the being gasped and her 20 large wings seemed to get slightly smaller, before the space they had created was suddenly filled by another set of wings.


The being took a few deep breaths in as Cherish finally decided to roll with it, laughing at the turn of events. Oliver made to stop her, in fear of inciting what was probably an angel, but stood stock still as the angel straightened herself. Her eyes brightened as the looked into the eyes of the McGenty siblings and suddenly, Oliver’s vision faded.


Oliver shook his head, clearing away a stray thought about a bell. Cherish sat in front of him, looking as confused as he felt. In her hand was a box of chocolates. They both took a bite out of them, hesitantly. They had no idea about what they had been talking about, but this chocolate was delicious.
 
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Christmas Prompts [Day 15]


Bourbon in the eggnog… or maybe just the bourbon, and a lot of it.

Oliver eyes were wide as he opened his mouth to ask, “I’m sorry, mom, what did you say I just drank?”


His Mom, god bless her soul, pat her red cheeks a lopsided grin on her face as she took another sip of her drink, “Haha, bourbon, sweetie.”


Oliver didn’t even know how his power would react with alcohol. He didn’t feel any different, but the innocent looking drink in his hand was still a key to a door he had never wanted to open.


Looking around, Oliver said, “Um, I think I’ll have something else, Mom.”


“Sure, sure. That’s fine, sweetie.”


A chill went down Oliver’s spine as he heard Cherish call from inside the house, “Ew, this stuff tastes disgusting!”


“Cheri, don’t drink that!”



Christmas Prompts [Day 16]


I love you just the same.

Oliver looked uncomfortable as his family sat opposite of him, all of them looking concerned.


His father spoke first, “Oliver, if there is something you want to tell us, we’ll understand. There isn’t anything that could make us not love you, son.”


His mother nodded in agreeance as Cherish stayed uncharacteristically quiet, her eyes imploring Oliver to tell them all his secret.


Oliver took a deep breath, his mind calming down as he decided what he was going to do. Scratching the back of his head, Oliver looked to his family and said, “I didn’t mean to keep it a secret for this long, but I guess I need to say it at some point. Mom, Dad, Cherish, I’m a Super.”


His Mother and Father sighed in relief simultaneously while Cherish seemed to jolt in her seat, her eyes not bursting with excitement. His parent’s reactions however were far more attention-grabbing.


Sensing his question, his mother responded, “Well, sweetie, we thought you were gonna say that...well...drugs were involved. That maybe you had fallen into a bad crowd while up in Baltimore.”


Oliver’s mouth dropped a bit, but my sister quickly took up the silence, “So! What’s your power, Olly? Is it really flashy? CAN YOU CONTROL FIRE!?”


Oliver plugged his ears a bit, Cherish could be loud, “No, no, no. Nothing like that. Well, I guess I should just lay it all on you guys.”


Cherish nodded happily, running up and hugging Oliver, “Mhmm! Mhmm! Don’t you worry, Olly! Nothing could stop us from loving you!”



Christmas Prompts [Day 17]


Somebody waits for you…

Oliver coughed as he felt his lungs struggle to fill with air. The man above him smiled, his crooked smile revealing the shark like teeth that filled out and flattened, becoming human like. He walked out of Oliver’s sight, leaving the telepath bleeding out on the floor of a rundown pants factory.


This wasn’t the end that he had expected, but a part of him welcomed it. He had seen and heard death on an intimate level few others could claim. He had regrets, sure, but things happened. He’d just...let it go. Oliver’s eyes slowly closed.


“Woh, dude, you can’t stop!”


“We’re all rooting for you, sweetheart!”


“I can’t believe this as far as you want to go.”


“YOU COULD TOUCH THE SKY KIDDO”


“My little olive tree. You’ve yet to truly grow. Do not let your leaves fall early.”


Oliver’s still body jolted as he felt something awaken him. He shook his head and picked himself up. He felt weak and tired, but something had reawakened him and his will. He put pressure on one of the more vicious bite wounds.


Taking out his phone, Oliver called an ambulance, before sitting down and promising himself to stay awake and conscious. He did wonder, though. What had those voices been?



Christmas Prompts [Day 18]


A Christmas ghost.

Oliver looked at the small girl standing at his feet, looking up at him with authority, and sighed, “So, you’re the Ghost of Christmas in Childhoods. What does this mean for me?”


The girl stomped her foot on the ground, “It means, buster, that you’ve got some answering to do. I got a letter from a sweet little girl, your sister, that you destroyed her best friend Wilfred.”


Oliver raised an eyebrow, “She knew to send you a letter?”


The ghost stalled for a second, but waved a hand disarmingly, “Of course not. However, the big man hasn’t been himself a long while, so we ghosts have to pick up the slack.”


Oliver nodded, like this situation made sense. The snowman hadn’t, and he wish he could explain that to the little ghost, but he had his doubts about how that would work, “I stick to my story of the snowman attacking me.”


The ghost nodded, but suspicion was clear on her face, “Mhmm, I bet. Alright, I’ve made my judgement.”


Oliver was a tad hesitant, but he easily asked, “Alright, and what is that?”


The ghost smirked at him, “That you need to remember how it feels to be a child at Christmas time.”


Suddenly, Oliver’s vision faded as he felt his body give out, his knees buckling and his head bursting into a headache. He felt the ground underneath him fade away and it was with gratitude that Oliver fell unconscious.


“Wake up, sleepy head! Olly, you’ve always been a sleepy head, haven’t you?”


Oliver’s eyes opened up blearily, waving his hand at the voice, but stopped as he saw his own appendage. It was small. He was small.


Oh boy.



Christmas Prompts [Day 19]


Picture Prompt


winter-wonderland-pictures-16.jpg




Oliver wrapped the scarf around his face. The cold was nice, but it was getting dark and he needed to get home. Looking around, Oliver noticed the streetlamps try to flicker on around him.


Maybe they were warming u-


They lit up suddenly.


Oliver had to stop himself from getting lost at the picture of beauty in front of him. Simple, beautiful, and a clear example of why Christmas was one his favorite times of the year. Even if it was always cold, there was still the fact that the Holidays brought a great appreciation of the events around oneself.


Oliver bowed his head and gave thanks for this sight. It would truly be something to ponder in the days to come.



Christmas Prompts [Day 20]


The poor unfortunate soul in a Santa costume.

“Please don’t want anything expensive.”


“When will Billy slow down!? How much energy does this kid have?”


“I want to go home! Why is Mommy taking so looooong?”


Oliver’s face stayed relaxed and genial out of practiced ease. The kid in his lap looked up at him with wonder.


“Are you the real Santa Claus?”


Oliver was not trained to answer this kind of question. He hadn’t been trained at all, in completely honesty. Shaking his head to the kid, Oliver replied, “No, I’m one of Santa’s assistants. He’s busy getting your presents ready, and I’m here to make sure he knows what you want.”


The kid seemed to take that well. He didn’t look as excited to be there anymore, but that was acceptable. Oliver didn’t want to be there either. Oliver looked down the long line of kids that had come to sit on his lap and spotted his mom standing along with his sister.


His mom noticed him and waved, knowing who was under the convincing beard and hat, but Cherish waved excitedly over at him, the word ‘Santa’ on her lips

.


Christmas Prompts [Day 21]


The arrival of a guest.

Oliver stopped his morning stretches as he heard his door knock. He was still in his bedroom, and no one in his family knocked. I mean, neither did he, so it wasn’t like he could complain.


Still, that meant that someone not in his family was at his door. It was a small distinction, but it meant a lot. Ramping up his power, Oliver listened out for stressed thoug-There.


“Is this gonna work? Will he be alright with this?”


Why did that voice sound familiar? It sounded nervous, but the intent was different than from some of the other voices he had heard when they were nervous about doing certain things. Mugging, bank robbing, murder, and even jaywalking. People got nervous about illegal stuff in a different way than this voice was.


The person behind the door knocked again, more hesitant this time. Walking to the door, Oliver didn’t feel any stress from his family, their thoughts silent. What that could imply didn’t pass Oliver by discreetly, but he had come to a decision.


Opening the door, Oliver stared at the person in confusion, before it all came back together, “Jared?”



“Hey Oliver.”
 
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Day 5 Challenge: Putting up Christmas decorations
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​

Hadrian had been assigned to decorate the entrance hall of the orphanage he was living in for Christmas. All of the teenagers and kids living in the orphanage had been assigned different jobs within the house for Christmas preparations, though larger ones such as Hadrians were only given to the older ones like him. 


The hall itself was little more than a short corridor, but with a surprisingly high ceiling, owing to the stairs leading up to the first floor. Hadrian's predicament at the moment was that he needed to get to a lamp to hang a string of lights from it, but it was just out of his reach, even with the stepladder he was using. If only he could reach just an inch or so further...


He'd had an idea now, though. Taking his right wrist in one hand, he tugged forwards, until he could hear a soft pop as the ball dislocated from the socket. It was now just the right length to barely reach the lamp, and while it was a lot weaker owing to the poorer leverage it now had, he was able to lift up the string of lights, wind it once around the lamp's stem, then continue along with his decorating - after popping his shoulder back in of course.
 
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Day 10 Challenge: A show of lights...
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​




Hadrian wandered along the street, holding Felix's hand as he guided him along. It was nearly Christmas, and the street was brightly lit. Trees along the way were filled with glimmering lights, shopfronts were decorated in a festive manner, and throngs of people, full of festive spirit, all moved along their way. It was beautiful. The two brothers could almost feel as if it was put on just for them, and in a rare moment, they both smiled, happy in the beauty of it all. Not a word passed between them as they marveled at the splendour of the street, taking in such a simple, beautiful pleasure from it.




 
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Day 11: In the meadow we can build a snowman...
​


 
​

Ajax reeled from the blow the man had dealt him. A walking, talking iceberg, with augmented strength and frozen armour - he'd managed to move surprisingly fast for someone so heavily laden.


The wild swing had caught him in the side, causing bruising in his abdomen and cracking a rib before his body could compensate by redirecting blood flow and splinting the rib with calcified flesh. Ajax landed on the ground, rolling sideways in a vague attempt to mitigate any further damage.


He wasn't a sophisticated fighter, didn't know any martial arts. What he did know, however, was that he could hit really hard. He ran straight back for the man, ducking under the same sweep that had caught him before, slamming a fist into the man's midriff. The punch cracked the ice, but the villain inside hadn't felt the force of it apparently. He grabbed Ajax with his ice-covered arms, gripping him in a bear hug. A few snaps resounded from his body, and he struggled to move within the cold embrace. It was hard, but he managed to bend his arm around to grip the man's wrist. He crushed it as hard as he could, and he could hear a slow crack before it shattered under his grip, and he broke the man's wrist with a sharp twist and tug.


Ajax's frozen foe released him as the villain cried out in pain, cradling the broken wrist.


"Y-you bastard! I'll kill you!" he screamed, almost incoherent with rage and agony. His attacks were even more reckless than before, but they were persistent, and Ajax had to parry several of them to the side with an arm or a leg, before striking once again for the villain's midriff. This time, the ice there shattered completely, falling away to reveal a hole, and Ajax kicked it as hard as he could, sending his foe falling back.


Ajax took a moment to calm down. The villain was almost out for the count, and it wouldn't take much more to kill or seriously injure him. He needed to be calm, or he might take out his frustrations on the man and leave him battered and bruised unnecessarily. No, he couldn't do that. Instead, he moved around to the villain's head, crushing the ice around his neck to break it off, before, putting him in a choke hold to knock him out. A few seconds later he was unconscious, and Ajax ran quickly to a payphone, calling the cops and explaining that there was an unconscious supervillain in the street that they should pick up. He ran as soon as the call was finished, not waiting for the authorities to show up - they wouldn't treat him so kindly if they learned he was a vigilante minor.
 
Day 6:

He sat in the corner of the living room, in the old rocking chair he had traumatic memories of being told not to climb on. He nursed a gingerbread cookie, which was missing a leg, its left leg. His right leg was in a cast. His was, not the cookie's.


The things he'd seen in the last few days... he considered taking another bite of his cookie. After a while he did. He bit off its arm. Its right arm. Buddy's left arm was probably in a cast like his... He shivered.


He put the cookie aside on the arm of the rocking chair and leaned forward for the bowl of cashews. The cookie fell off, but he'd already forgotten it was there.


He ate handful after handful of cashews before their connection to the topic of his thought occurred to him. He put the bowl down, got up and took a ladle of the eggnog on the high shelf. After draining it, he got another one and went back to his seat. He nursed the glass of eggnog.

Day 9: Dashing through the snow…

The mail van cruised down Gun Road, creaking snow underneath. It reached the usual parking space for deliveries, finding it plowed over. The entire street was practically one lane, due to the local plow-truck driver's fun and novel way to clear the road. Just once down the middle, and you're done. That's fine. Cars only go one way, right? Fuck.


There was no way the mail van could park where it was supposed to, and anywhere it could stop in the road would have completely blocked traffic, of which there was a fortunate lack so far today. The mailman sighed and put the van in reverse, going back over the railroad tracks to the intersection of Gun and Glen Artney. A car going by honked at him, and he was about to honk back before he realized he was technically breaking the law by driving backwards such a long way.


He pulled onto Glen Artney and into the public parking lot. All twelve spaces were full, so the mailman shrugged and pulled into the temporary parking space. In a town where the plow only does one lane, I doubt anyone will be paying so much attention to parking laws.


He pulled his sack out of the back and began the five-hundred-foot trek back to 301 Gun Road. He was, as he was told is customary for mailmen, in cargo shorts.


322, mailbox for 311, 324... he made his long and cold way up the road, spending more than half the time slogging through brown plowed snow up to his waist. After a while, he began to jog back down the hill to bring the van to a second checkpoint. Mostly, he just wanted to have the heating system on for a spell.


He noticed a sturdy crust over the snow in some places. He reached over and put some weight on it, which it held. Out of boredom, he carefully hopped up on top. He wasn't a man of great stature or frequently large dinners, and he decided to play a little game, to see how long he could stay above the snow. He tried a sort of surf, but that was too slow. He switched to something like a skating motion, but fell through, cursed. He crawled back out of the snow and continued experimenting, scurrying down the large bank.


Then he saw a child laughing, watching him, and he sheepishly returned to the street.


After he reached the van, he brought it up to 415 Gun Road, where there was a substantial parking lot. He pulled in and delivered their mail with a knock on the door. An attractive 20-something answered the door in yoga pants, and it took him a second to think of what it was he was going to say.


"Uhhh, hi. I, um, I'm... the, mail van... parking... place. Is full. Do you mind if... D'you mind if I park, uh, there for just a li'l while?" He swallowed, painfully dry-mouthed. The woman looked quizzically at him and smiled.


"Yeah, sure. We won't mind." She took the mail. "Thanks!"


"Oh, uh, thank you!" he said, putting too strong an emphasis on 'you'. She closed the door and he walked off, overanalyzing everything he executed poorly in the exchange.


He pulled a few letters and one magazine that no one ever subscribed to out of his mail sack for the Avalon Forge, which was at the edge of the woods in the field behind 415. Making his way to the Avalon Forge mailbox, he found it missing completely from its usual place. "Wh-!" He exclaimed. He looked around, as if the mailbox might have somehow wandered off.


With a sigh, he began to hike through the snow-drenched field, bare legs sinking into the snow. He did his best to scurry over the top.


When he finally reached the forge, he found the front door open and no signs of recent entry, only an orange glow through one sooty window. He knocked on the door, which swung wider open, and decided to wander in.


"Hello?" he said. There was a clang. He slowly made his way further in, finding an older man snoring furiously on an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair. He carefully placed the mail on the table in front of him and turned to leave. In turning, he saw a raggedy younger man working vigilantly at an impressive forging station. "Oh, hello!" he said.


The young man glanced up, did a double-take. "OH HEY!" he said and ran over to the mailman, who flinched at his approach. "I'M AL!" Al shed a heavy glove and offered his hand. His face was covered in soot, making it difficult to tell where his patchy beard ended and his face began. His hair was in dreadlocks, tied back for working over a fire. He squinted.


The mailman timidly shook his hand. "H'lo..."


Al grinned "DUDE YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!" retrieving his glove, he strode back over to the forge and lifted a stylized curved edge, still glowing orange. Al's eyes gleamed in its light, a wicked look accentuated by the reflection. "I'NIT SWEET?"


The mailman breathed in suppressed awe. "What... is it?"


"IT'S A KATANA, DUDE!" he rotated it back and forth. "THE SWORD OF SAMURAI!" he put it back in the fire. "ONLY THING IS, IT'S SMALLER THAN I WANTED..."


"Um... Not that that isn't cool, but, isn't this a historic Revolutionary War era... forge?"


"HAHA, YOU SOUND LIKE THE OLD GUY!" Al gestured at the sleeping Baby Boomer, who stirred. "HE'S THE ONLY ONE AROUND WHO REALLY GIVES A CRAP. AND ANYWAY-" Al grinned at his creation. "THESE WERE AROUND IN THE SEVENTEEN-HUNDREDS."


"You're, um..." The mailman took a very deep breath to fight the awkwardness of commenting. "Speaking kind of loudly...?"


"Oh, sorry!" Al dropped his glove again and stuck a finger in his ear. "The work, you know. Think I have Tinnitus."


"My, um, condolences... Do you mind if I stay h-here? For a bit? It's very warm."


Al let him stay, and after about fifteen minutes he headed back across the field of snow. He finished up Gun Road and came to the turn onto Keech Road. He checked the sack. "Oh good lord no."


5343 Keech Rd, realm of Buddy the Terrible. The mailman shivered.


He kept to the edge of the plowed road, crouched low and moving as quickly and quietly as he possibly could. He made his way to the driveway with no sign, but that had happened before. He really, really wished these people would get a fucking mailbox.


He got to the door, glancing up from his half-crouched position to the security camera positioned on the corner of the building. He shrugged at it.


Slowly, and softly, he worked the mail into the slot of the front door. No sign of hostiles. He turned around.


Somehow, Buddy had out-snuck him. He stood in the driveway, between the mailman and any direct path to the road. The mailman flattened himself against the door, and Buddy growled.


Many tense moments passed. Then, the growl reaching a crescendo, Buddy charged.


The mailman bolted. He hopped off the left edge of the front steps and skidded on the snowy lawn, towards the driveway. Buddy adjusted his course to pursue. The mailman's short legs hit the ground in rapid succession, but Buddy caught up quickly. He sunk his teeth into the mailman's calf, producing a screech. The mailman kicked him off, stunning him, and limped into the woods across the street.


He could hear Buddy in pursuit, scant feet behind him. He heard also the other residents of 5343 call after him "Buddy! Bad dog!" and then more faintly, but not unheard by the mailman, "Ah, whatever..."


He scurried through the woods, dropping his sack in an effort to slow his attacker. It had no noticeable effect. He began breathing as though whistling, lungs burning and legs burning more. He could feel it; he was about to stop running, and Buddy definitely was not.


Resigning himself to mauling, he fell to his knees in the snow.


Rather than the sensation of intense pain he expected, there was the sound of chittering at the edge of his hearing.

Day 15: Bourbon in the eggnog… or maybe just the bourbon, and a lot of it.

Anita sighed over the plate of cookies she brought to the family Christmas party. Not a one of them was missing. I mean, she didn't actually bake them; they were storebought. But it was still depressing to see no one was interested.


She picked one up and took a bite of it. She pondered for a second. Depression assuaged, she threw the rest of the awful thing into the trash nearest the dining room table. She took a sip of the milk she'd pinched from the fridge.


She stood up and made her way to the kitchen sink to pour the milk down the drain. She was intercepted by her grandmother Betty, who was putting the turkey together.


"'Nita! How are you dear, it's been so long!"


"Hi gramma... doin' alright." she smiled.


"Have you finally quit that job at the, er, the car dealership?" The inevitable topic.


"No... No, I haven't. It's making me quite a little fortune though!"


"Didn't you say it was entry level?" her grandmother scoffed. "What do they pay, 15 an hour?" She prodded Anita in the chest. "You can do better. Something that makes you happy. Something with that business degree we spent so much on!"


"Well..." Anita sighed. "Can we talk about something else? Just on Christmas."


Betty grunted. "Alright... Speaking of which, what about your brother?"


"What about him?" Anita tipped her head. She hadn't heard from him very often since she moved out of the house.


"Well, I just wonder how he's getting along! You know, since your poor mother passed on..." she clucked. "You know, I always liked her. And your father brought home a lot of other girls I wasn't very fond of, you know, a lot-"


"Yes well I think he's doing fine! He has a small apartment..."


Her grandmother squinted at her. "Your father?"


"No, not my father-" she said "- my brother. He's doing fine. He has a small apartment."


"Oh." Betty weighed this information. "What is it he does?"


"You know, I think he's over in the living room... somewhere..." she sighed, where the hell was he? "Anyway, he's a mailman now."


"Oh!" her grandmother exclaimed. "Well that must be awful!"


"I don't know, I think he likes it." Anita said carefully. "It pays surprisingly well, if I remember correctly, but he's mostly eating ramen..."


"Eating what?"


"Ramen, it's-"


The topic of conversation staggered into the kitchen, wrinkled flannel shirt festooned with chestnut scraps and a stain of eggnog invading his collar. "Imma shimmunkigh..." he remarked.


"What the!" Anita whispered as Betty proffered a loud exclamation. Cousin Duncan's little shits ran in after him.


"He's drunk!" One said


"He thinks he's a squirrel!" said the oldest, who was then backhanded across the face. Betty screamed.


"NOUMNAT Iz SHIMMUNKigh..."


Anita ran over and grabbed his outstretched hand, twisting his wrist to put him on the floor before pressing both hands into the small of his back. "Calm down, dammit!"


Betty looked like she was about to feint. Cousin Duncan ran in, followed by a precession of spectators, and grabbed up his sobbing eldest.


Anita looked up to anyone in her family for help, coming away with nothing. She sighed. "I'll take him home." She picked him up, as small as he was, and threw him over her shoulder. His car keys fell out of his breast pocket, and she kicked them into the dining room. Merry damn Christmas.
 
Day 27: The stroke of midnight.

"Money. Now."


"Hey, man, easy. I'm getting... I'm getting my wallet..."


"NOW!" The lead mugger pushed his gun further into their victim's face


"Oh god, please..."


"Get the money NOW, OR I'LL TAKE IT FROM YOUR CORP-" A dart appeared in his arm. It fell limp, the gun clattering out of his hand. He and his two compatriots stared at it. "Wh- wha..."


A voice like velvet swept the confused scene from their left. "You can leave with your money. The other three of you can leave if you hand in your weapons and apologize."


The muggers looked up to see a woman standing in the mouth of the alley. She was dressed in a white trench coat with a black stripe, a simple hat, gloves, combat boots, all pure white, and black tinted goggles. There was a beat. "Would you like me to repeat the offer?" she said, smirking.


The lead mugger with the limp arm scoffed. "Bitch, you a super or a call girl?" his comrades snickered.


She stopped smiling. "Either way, you should be so lucky." There was a fluttering, as of cloth, and darkness descended over the muggers for as long as it took them to shout in fear. Then, just as suddenly as it had arrived, the darkness disappeared, taking with it the victim.


The woman tossed a small round object at the muggers, underhanded, saying "Here hold this!" before it exploded into blinding light. The muggers yelled and staggered blindly. She flicked one on the forehead. "I'm over here, numnuts!" He lashed out with a knife, and she caught him by the wrist, twisting the knife out of his grip and his arm to the ground with a satisfying thud. She kicked the limp-armed one in the chest with enough force to send him airborne.


The third mugger felt around on the ground for the dropped pistol, found it, and had just started bringing it to bear when she brought her foot down on his wrist, forcing him to drop it. He cried out, to which she said "Ain't that a kick in the head?" and sent her boot into his face.


She whirled around and caught the knife-wielding mugger by the wrist again, disarmed him again, and put him on the ground again, this time with a cracking sound and a pained whimper. "Persistence may be a good attribute for other lines of work, but..."


The light from the flare died down and she put her tinted goggles up to examine her handiwork. With the barest hint of a flutter, a figure cloaked in black descended to the ground behind her.


"See?" She said, and turned to face him.


It was difficult, even impossible to tell where the edge of his cloak was, and where or if there were sleeves. He wore a helmet that looked like vinyl, and was in the perfect shape of a human head. It was black, but adorned all over with interlocking white eyes. His head tilted.


"Is the civilian okay?" She asked. He nodded. "Well then, didn't I tell you the work can be done without killing? C'mon, there's more idiots to beat the shit out of..."


She leapt up to one building's fire escape and quickly climbed her way to the rooftop. Her partner motionlessly watched her leave. When she was out of sight, he looked down at the mugger who had gone for the gun. He was going for it again. His arm, trembling, slowly made its way to where the pistol lay on the ground. His fingers touched the handle, and built up a grasp on it. His observer displayed no reaction.


The mugger, who had been faking to some degree, suddenly brought the gun up aimed at the man in the cloak. Before he had finished raising it, there was a dart in his neck, and he moaned, falling into a deep sleep.


"It's not exactly... efficient." The cloaked man remarked, before he silently ascended the side of the building after his partner.
 
Day 7: Who’s Krampus, and why is Raguel so scared of them?

A young girl sat up in bed, at fifty-seven minutes past the hour of eleven. It was the eve of Christmas day.


Her eyes were wide with terror. Three days before, she had wet the bed. Then Mama had told her about what happens to children who do that... about what happens to bad children on Christmas day.


James from down the street said they got coal in their stocking, but Mama told her something very different.


She pulled the covers up to her face, looking around the room for the one who would soon be entering. The clock struck eleven fifty-nine. "Please be Santa, please be Santa, please be Santa, please be Santa..." she chanted, whispering in her high voice. She put her small hands together. "God... Dear Lord, please don't let him come here! I didn't mean to be bad, I promise I never will again, I'll be nice to Mama and-"


The clock struck twelve. There was a whoosh, a smell of ozone, she gasped. The room fell into a deathly silence. She breathed, shallow and tremulous.


Then there was a light blue glow from underneath her dresser. Underneath her dresser, where she hid the forbidden horseshoe magnet! The fascinating item she found in the dirt outside her house, which stuck to some silver metals and nothing else! The demonic item Mama had demanded she throw away, that she just couldn't bring herself to, the demonic item she had hid! HE saw it!


She burst into tears, knowing what was coming. He could see that she had misbehaved, now he was going to take her and eat her up and send her to the bad place!


"Uhhhh hey." came a voice from under the dresser. HIS voice! She gasped, the tears froze on her face. "Whatcha doin there? Gittin wet? WINK."


She sat, paralyzed with fear. Words emerged from her lungs through her lips without her conscious effort. "W-what?"


"Oh! Man! That is the voice of jailbait. Nevermind then, TEASE!"


There was a brief silence. She wasn't sure what to say. "A-are you... Santa?"


"Yes. Yo-ho-bro and a bottle of milknog or whatever."


"You don't sound like Santa... You're not... you're not Krampus are you? You're not the..." she whispered. "- the Devil? Mama says he'll come to take me to... to Hell, if I'm bad..."


"Wow. Wowwwww. Kay. Kid, Imma teach you somethin' important. Lean on the bed. Promise no surprises." the voice cackled.


The girl tentatively rolled out from under her ratty covers and assumed a position of prayer.


"Now, listen very carefully and say what I say." the voice became one of a little girl. "Deah God, make me a biwd, so I can fly fah, fah fah away from hea."


The girl's eyes widened. "But only Mama tells me what to pray!"


The light under the dresser flared bright "YOURMOMSUCKSCOCKSINHELL!"


The girl screamed and fled her room in a panic. "Mama! Mama noooo!"


The voice chuckled. "Hehehe... I probably just created a very dangerous supervillain." The light began to fade away "And Swan said I'd never amount to anything!"

Day 24: A gift to a friend.

Doctor Snyder punched the code into the vault doors, which opened. He performed an acrobatic flipping motion with his clipboard and strode in, past many other patients that needed to be kept in limiter cells. He wasn't visiting any of them today, though. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to keep a positive attitude.


He sat on the bench in front of the room which appeared perfectly empty. "Good morning Codename Poltergeist. How are we?"


""We" are not schizophrenic, thanks very much. Only he is. I'm not schizophrenic, YOU're schizophrenic! Oh shut up you, everyone knows you're a lunatic! I hope your dog eats your mother! What the hell does that even mean? You-"


Poltergeist went on for a while. Doctor Snyder smiled and wrote a few things on the day's checklist. "I see you're in good spirits..."


"THAT's not PC language, buddy. Ah, I'm just kidding, hehehe... It's okay when you say that, we're friends. OHH! Speaking of which, I gotcha somethin!"


Snyder raised his eyebrows. "You did, mm?"


"YE-ah!" Poltergeist replied, purposefully imitating a voice crack. "I figure since it's Christmas and all... Wait, it's Christmas, right?"


Snyder shook his head. "It's April 27th." he said. There was a beat.


"Is that not Christmas?"


Snyder chuckled.


"Anyway!" Poltergeist continued "You might not know this, but I actually have... NO MASS. A gasp from the audience! So, I can't get you a legit Aprilmas present, y'know, with weight and stuff."


Snyder nodded and wrote a few notes on his clipboard.


"Wait, are you actually taking notes? Did you actually not know this!? Haha!" Poltergeist laughed.


"No-" said Snyder "- no, I did know that. I'm taking notes on your mental health. It's good."


"Aww, well thank ya! And I didn't get you anything! OHWAIT!" Poltergeist replicated a clapping sound. "So, one of the techs brought me a tablet so I could look up porn, and I did a little bit of research... Well, I did a hella-fuckton of research, on your personal life, which is how this idea came to me."


Snyder bristled. He could not think of any good result of this story. Poltergeist chuckled, seeing his reaction.


"Kay, aaaannd... Hit it!" Poltergeist perfectly recreated the entire studio recording of I Believe In Father Christmas by Greg Lake, even adding a few improvements here or there. He waved his arms and legs in the air, creating static bursts which could be likened to stars, or snow.


In three minutes, once he was done, Doctor Snyder sat silently, a single tear rolling down his cheek. There was a long moment of silence.


"Sweet geezorbs, I killed him!" Poltergeist exclaimed. Doctor Snyder laughed, breaking his trance.


"You know, I haven't heard that song in twenty-four years... That was my favorite song as a child when... Oh, you know all that..."


"Yep, I have all the deets on your private life and browser history now! Hallelujah, and Merry Christmas! You ol' pervert!"


Snyder smiled. "Merry Christmas, and thank you. Ya transparent asshole."

Day 24: A gift to a friend, epilogue.

Poltergeist scoffed. "Did you just assume my opacity?"
 
Christmas Prompts [Day 22]


I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams…

Oliver felt like something was off. He looked around, sitting amongst his family and Jared as his mother began to slice the ham sitting in the middle of the table.


Cherish sat beside him, smiling as she snuck a roll off the plate in front of her, Jared was listening intently to a story his father was telling him, and Granny was making sure her Grandpa didn’t fall asleep on his plate.


Something felt extremely off. Was he forgetting something? Oliver cocked his head, looking befuddled as he listened for anything out of the ordinary.


Huh, it was silent. Not physically, but mentally.


“Where are the voices?”


In the dark cell in the middle of the terrorist organization, Knights of Raguel, Oliver turned in his drug addled slumber.


“...voices…”



Christmas Prompts [Day 23] 


Peppermint, peppermint everywhere…

“Cherish, I think we need to talk.”


“About what, Olly?”


“I know that you got bored with cupcakes, but maybe you should try and take this new passion slowly, you know?”


“Silly Olly, I am taking it slow!”


Oliver looked around at the bowls his sister was stirring in intervals, his face scrunched in concentration as she tried her best to count the right amount of stirring, as well as try to understand Oliver’s concerns.


Cherish had recently gotten interested in peppermint everything. Icing, cookies, cakes, and even regular mints. The first day, Oliver had humored her, but after his mom had had to go out during the holidays just to sate the incurable curiosity of his sister, he decided to put his foot down.


“Cherish, I think you should take a bre-”


“Olly, try this one!”


Oliver stopped, losing his train of thought as he looked down at the piece of red bread. It was...Oliver guessed he could humor her for just a while longer. She’d get over this little stint in time.



Christmas Prompts [Day 24]


A gift to a friend.

“Hey, Jared.”


“Yo, Oliver! It’s so great to see you, man. How’s wittle Cheri?”


Oliver rest his cheek on his hand, smiling tiredly, but with plenty of pride, “She’s doing great. Found out she had a talent for cooking. She’s been bugging Mom about it for a while now. She wants to have her own set of utensils for Christmas.”


Jared smiled over the video feed, “Sounds like the Cheri you’re always telling me about.”


Oliver smiled and nodded, before his eyes widened in remembrance, “One second, Jared, I got something for you.”


Jared raised an eyebrow, “Ooook? Gonna give it to me through the screen?”


Oliver smiled, but shook his head, “No, something even better.”


With a flicker of his wrists, knowing his friend loved the grandeur of dramatics, Oliver revealed his present.


A airplane ticket to Texas.



Christmas Prompts [Day 26]


For whom does the bell toll?

Oliver was heading towards the park to meet up his family when he heard it. The bell of the old cathedral was loud and noticeable as it reverberated down the street, bouncing off the walls of the shops and trees.


That would have been fine, if it weren’t for the fact that the bell hadn’t rung once in 6 years. It had been on the news for weeks after a Super had taken out the back end of the, killing a bunch of the nuns that had serviced it for years or weeks.


Oliver cracked his neck and looked at the time. Shrugging his shoulders, Oliver took off at a sprint towards the bell. It was time to ask the golden question.


For whom does the bell toll?



Christmas Prompts Day 27


The stroke of midnight.

“The weather outside is frightfu-!”


Oliver stopped as the grandfather clock tried to strike it’s bell to signify 12:00, but stop suddenly, as if it was a needle taken off the record.


Looking around, Oliver’s power didn’t allow him to feel the fear mentally, but his body was in hyperdrive, his fight or flight reflex kicking into gear and preparing him for anything. It was nice to have both the rational mind of calmness and the sharp reflexes of adrenaline.


Neither, of course, could have prepared him for the shadowy hand that reached out of the blind spot around the corner, the long spindly appendage innocently coming closer.


Backing up, Oliver thought about how to deal with. Suddenly the lights flicked on.


“Olly! What are you doing!?”


The shadowy hand suddenly gone, Oliver looked to his sister, grateful, “I’m...just getting a drink of water. You shouldn’t be up, Cheri.”


“Aww, but Wilfred said he was thirsty too.”


“...Wilfred?”


“Yeah. Don’t know where he went though. Oh! There he is! He’s standing right behind you!”


Oliver felt a rush of cold stale air fall across his neck. Turning around, Oliver craned his neck up.


Wilfred was...taller.



Christmas Prompts [Day 28]


Picture Prompt


tumblr_mwdaa86E311sk680ko1_540.jpg


 
​


Oliver smiled as he felt the fire keep the room nice and toasty, as if it was trying to personally cater to his every bias about how the holidays should be. If he hadn’t loved the town of Norfolk or being close to his family, moving to a warmer state would have been an idea right up his alley.


Oliver carefully stretched as the small child sleeping in his lap turned in her sleep. Cheri has tried to spend all night staying up in an effort to see Santa Claus. An impossibility with the man being dead, if AEGIS was being honest.


“Don’t let them hear me. Don’t let them hear me”


And there’s the delivery boy. A Super conscripted to passing out gifts in his area. Sometimes his block or even his whole town was forgotten, but after becoming a part of AEGIS, he had quickly made sure that didn’t happen again. His sister would certainly be getting a gift from Santa this year.



Resting his head back and letting sleep take him, Oliver was truly content.
 

Day 19:
​


winter-wonderland-pictures-16.jpg


 
​

Ajax walked along the snow-lined pavement, hugging himself against the cold. his knuckles were bloody and bruised, and there were scratches in his already roughed-up clothing as well as other marks on visible skin. His power's effect on his metabolism was having a warming effect, similar to that which comes from exercise, but it wasn't enough to prevent him from feeling the chill bite of the air around him.


"Hey again, kid." Someone said from nearby, behind him. Hadrian wheeled on the spot, almost slipping on the snow before regaining his balance. How had someone gotten so close without him hearing them?


He found before him a man in dark clothing and a black mask, dark enough that it was hard enough to make out his features even in the muffled light of the evening. The figure seemed familiar though, the voice as well. Had he met this man before?


"Do I know you?"


"We met, once. Last Christmas."


Hadrian's mind brought up the memory of this very man being the one who'd delivered his gift at Christmas. He'd been... sympathetic.


"I remember. Thanks for that, by the way. I needed it."


"It's what I do. But that's not why I'm here... Ajax." That last word had a particular emphasis on it - the dark man had wanted him to know that they'd figured him out.


"How- damn it." Hadrian growled. He wasn't sure if he could run from this guy. His ghostly form could run through walls, and while he was better than average, Hadrian wasn't fast enough to outpace that kind of power.


"It wasn't hard, Hadrian. Almost as if... you wanted to be caught."


"Why would I do that? I just want to be a vigilante, for fuck's sake. I don't want to waste my time jumping through hoops, I'm better staying out here."


"Are you, really?" He replied, the question rhetorical. "You can get training, resources, a better place to stay, and support - physical and emotional. Once you get your blue card, you can work with the authorities, not run away from them."


Hadrian was silent for a moment, not willing to meet the man's eyes. He was right in a lot of ways...


"Are you going to stop me, if I walk away?" He asked, making eye contact once again.


"No, but I don't think I'll be allowed to next time."


Staring at the man for a few moments more, Hadrian turned back onto the path, continuing walking. His thoughts boiled as he realised that joining AEGIS might be the best thing to do.


Turning back around to look for the dark man, he realised that he was alone once more. Nothing accompanied him but the chill breeze in the air, and the blurry shadow he cast.
 
Day 19:

An old-looking Japanese man wandered slowly through a snowy park in Southern California. He smiled, watching the snow fall, although most of the local Californians looked at it with terror or confusion.


He was reminded of his childhood, having grown up in Hokkaido. It used to snow there every winter, and while most of his family was dismayed by it, it always instilled him with a sense of wonder and joy.


He inspected a tree, slowly being covered in a layer of snow, in the way that trees support snow. He basked in the image, as it was pleasing aesthetically, and reminded him of a cherry tree in blossom.


"Taifuu-hito! Tenki o konran sa sete, watashitachi ni shitagatte kudasai! Yarubeki koto ga aru!" His friend, Daichi, called after him. He hurried over to join his companions, waving his hand at the scene behind him. Not long after he left, the snow stopped falling.

Day 1: Oh, the weather outside is frightful…

"... and it is with great pride and fellowship that we deploy the fruits of our long efforts: The Stephenson-Kagawa Atmospheric Interference Ark, or SKAIA."


There was a scattered, but raucous clapping from the spectators on the ark, which hovered in the air over the Marianas Trench. A crowd primarily of scientists, diplomats, politicians and celebrities. A translator began speaking after it had quieted down.


"Watashitachi ga naganen no doryoku no seika o tenkai shite iru koto wa ōkina jisonshin to nakamadesu. Sutībunson-Kagawa taiki kanshō-tō, Kore wa SKAIA-tomo yoba remasu."


There was polite applause from the half of those present that spoke no English.


"With the pull of this lever, we will have effectively neutralized natural disaster from the Pacific Ocean!" "Kono teko o osu koto de, Taiheiyō kara no shizen saigai o kōka-teki ni chūwa suru koto ga dekimasu." The announcers said in tandem, both gesturing to a large, shiny lever behind them. There was a united round of applause from the crowd.


The announcer reached for the lever, and there was an earth-shaking rumble, giving him pause. A geyser erupted from the ocean, off the starboard side of SKAIA, and it dissipated to reveal a tower of brown stone. Four men stood on top of it, arms crossed, stance wide.


One of them shouted "HEI!" and began doing what looked like Tai Chi. The briny water below swelled this way and that, and a massive, yet thin wave rose up fifty feet to invade the deck, knocking the announcers, and anyone standing near the lever, off the port-side edge with a scream.


Another of them, this one taller, tougher-looking and standing in the middle, shouted. "Hai!" Yet a third, a frail and skinny man who looked positively ancient, made a great sweeping motion, and a gale built up from behind them, directed towards the ark.


The one in the middle yelled "Watashitachiha!" then all four said in harmony: "SAIGAI NO RYODAN! YOU WILL KNOW DEFEAT!" The wind carrying their voices to the Ark’s guests.


Kyo Hamasaki looked up from the net he was repairing on the deck of the Hideyoshi. Where did that storm cloud come from, he wondered? He called to his wife to turn south to skirt the edge of it. As the boat came about, Manami leapt up out of the ocean and onto the deck.


"Dou, Papa?"


"Shinpai nai de Manami-chan. Totsuzen no arashi desu."


She shaded her eyes against the sun and peered into the distance. Something about the little squall made her shiver. Anticipation mingled with anxiety. She trusted her father’s judgement, but the sea was her domain, and this looked… wrong.


"Maa. Tabun ne? Demo... Taifun mieru. Demo, tchisai desu? Jya, mite mimashou ne?"


Before her father could answer, she had cut water and was moving swiftly away to the east. Kyo glanced through the glass of the wheelhouse at his wife, who raised her eyebrows and nudged the wheel back toward the east.


Manami pulled ahead rapidly, rocketing toward the ‘little typhoon’ faster than any torpedo made by men. As she approached, she noticed a number of things that confirmed her suspicions something was wrong. The waves were as unnaturally disturbed as the wind, and she could feel people in the water, struggling, panicked. Strangest of all, there was a seamount ahead that she is quite certain was not on the charts.


Setting aside all the weirdness, she prioritized the people in the water. Those people would be better off on the ship. She grabbed two around their waists and one by the back of his sports jacket with her teeth like a mama cat, or perhaps a jawfish. She delivered them quickly to the little boat launching deck at the back of the ship, then dove back in and fished out three more. There was one left in the water. She was about to grab the last swimmer when she realized the Ark was about to run aground on the seamount. She pointed to the man still in the water and shouted to the six she had rescued already.


"I be righto backu! Herupu himu!"


Diving under the ship, she rocketed to the bow, and braced her feet against the uncharted rock, shoving the hovering ship away with both hands. At first the gap narrowed and narrowed, squeezing her down to a crouch, then a squat. For a moment, she feared she might be squished, but at last the ship began to move away. Once she was sure that disaster had been averted, she poked her head above water to see what could be going on up there. Four men were practicing some kind of kata on top of a spire projected from the seamount. Energy and power seemed to flicker from their forms, intensifying the strange storm. She shouted up to them


"Oiiiii! Nani o shimasu ka? Baka yaro! Kono miyama wa, moto ni modoshite kudasai naa!"


Not waiting for a reply she dove under the ship to check that the last swimmer had been rescued. They were just pulling him aboard, so she hopped up on the deck to scold the bad men some more.


"Warui na, anatatachi! Ningen wa, honyu dobutsuen yo ne, baka! Ofune irimasu yo! Fuzakeru na! Oboreteimasu! Daaame daro!"


Dissatisfied with their lack of contrition, she dove back in the water, took a deep breath, and leapt to the top of their perch.


The one in the middle made an imposing stance at her. "KAZAN-HITO! TAIFUU-HITO! KOOSOKU!" the squat man standing directly behind him grunted "Hai!" and tensed up, almost as if constipated.


"Dame ni shinaide kudasai, hekoki-san!" She said, concerned, but laughing.


At the same time, the thin old man began making circular motions with his arms, and the cold wind began encircling them, blowing heavily. Magma erupted from the floor of the tower, encasing each team-member’s heavily armored boots and cooling surprisingly soon after. The leader smiled, grimly.


"Kusojiji, bakageta naa? Warui kedo, dekinai!" And with that she began to laugh. She fell down and rolled back and forth. 'Disaster brigade'. What silly old men! She leapt back to the boat.


"Go!" she yelled to the men on the bridge of the ship, pointing south. "Dato Uwei! Go!"


Soaked and dazed, they nodded, moving to their stations.


The sea began to swell beneath them. Manami turned and dove into it for another proper breath. She collided with a massive movement of water, a maelstrom developing from underneath the Ark.


Submerged again her mind raced, clearly these men were powerful. And up to no good. Mother and father would be following. There was no more time for fooling around. She grabbed the ship’s anchor chain and pulled at one of the links. It groaned. She thought of mother, bravely sailing into danger, and saw red. Her thoughts went away somewhere. The link broke, and it was a parody of Manami that swam back toward the seamount with the anchor and 60 feet of chain. Bracing her feet on the newly cooled volcanic rock, she swung the anchor in a wide arc, across the top of the spire.


Their leader took a wide step to his left, grabbing the chain, and seeing that it was on a path to sweep his team, stepped off the edge of the spire to drop like a rock. The thing that had recently been an innocent young Japanese girl stood in the surf at the edge of the new island. She roared in challenge and whipped the chain in an attempt to pull the leader to her. He eagerly rode the chain through the surface of the ocean.


Her free hand shot forward, and an eight inch long stinger emerged from her wrist on a prehensile muscular whip, the poisoned tip aimed for his eyes. He lowered his head, and the whip smacked off his brow, creating a crack on his forehead. He grunted.


The Manami-thing roared in triumph and seized him around the waist, heaving with all her might, and considerably increased bulk, to flip over backwards off the rock shelf and into the deep.


Down through the sea they fell. There was a noticeable shift in the water, as there is in the air before a storm. Manami’s opponent hammered on her back. Manami tried biting him but his rocky shell broke her teeth. Her stingers emerged again, whips twining around his body, trying to immobilize him, stingers seeking a soft spot to unload their poison. He grabbed at them, yanked them off, tried to crush them in his fists.


Manami-thing growled, a low frequency underwater warbling and squeezed her opponent with all her might, trying to force the air from his lungs. His chest made cracking sounds, and he bared his teeth as he continued trying to tear the offensive tentacles off.


They were suddenly swept around by a rapid round movement in the water. Manami used an opportune swirl of the eddy to throw her attacker back toward the rock wall and swam for a more advantageous position. Someone up there was trying to steal her prize, and she intended to find them and eat them.


The current, as suddenly as it had been noticed, seemed to disappear, along with the ocean itself! A whirlpool of great width and incredible depth moved it’s slow way to surrounding the stone spire. The team’s leader caught himself on a section of the rock wall, now exposed to air. He took a deep breath, and a stinger from the passing swirl of water struck true, passing through his open mouth and lodging in the back of his throat, then tearing back out again, along with a small spurt of blood.


He choked, coughed, his eyes unfocused. In desperation, he clenched the surface of the tower, which began to vibrate. It shook so hard it nearly blurred, and began to crack, leaning towards where the whirlpool was carrying the Manami-thing.


Manami dove deep, and everything went dark.


When she woke, she was floating on the surface of the sea under the stars. Mother and father were near, searching the surface of the water with a spotlight. She hurt all over, and couldn’t remember why. Groaning in pain, she swam toward the light.
 
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