SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS PAST

It is still days away from Thanksgiving, but I am longingly thinking of Christmas snows.

So, I am recalling a Christmas tale I once wrote for Lenny Lee :

http://lennys-world.blogspot.com/

{And Lenny, if you're re-reading this -- Don't be scared. Victor Standish has never met a monster he couldn't out-fox.}

Now for SLAY BELLES IN THE NIGHT --

The tolling of a lonely church bell echoed distant in the too quiet night.

The first Christmas after Katrina found New Orleans nearly deserted. The children's ward at Memorial Hospital was filled. Sleepy-eyed kids my age and younger were tossing fitfully in their hospital beds.

Thanks to Captain Sam, each child had a doll, teddy bear, or an actual New Orleans Saints football. They were all sleeping with them tucked secure in their arms.

And an apple was on each of their nightstands. I didn't know how he was doing it, but no matter how many apples the kids ate, another one took its place.

"So they'll know they will always have something to eat," he had told me as he left me on guard here.

Yeah, on guard.

Santa Claus was coming to town tonight for all the good little boys and girls.

Santa the revenant (think Vlad the Impaler ... but without as many morals.)

The Bourbon Street Irregulars were stretched thin tonight. I was all by myself.

So many children to protect from the ancient bloodbroker. Yeah, he stole the blood of every good little girl and boy to sell to other revenants on the black market all through the year.

The blood of innocence was a delicacy to bloodsuckers the world over.

I stood with my back to the far wall, looking warily into the shadows. One shadow darted out at me. The fat revenant appeared right next to me, his red hat set at a impish angle.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!," he rasped, his fangs going for my throat.

Right into his gaping mouth I thumbed two ball bearings washed in the melted snows of Eden.

"Suck on these, Santa!"

He grabbed his throat, the smoke of his burning flesh coming out of his open mouth in billowing, foul-smelling clouds. Hitting the floor with a heavy thud, he croaked into the night.

"To me, my elves!"

By this time all the children were awake, their eyes round with horror. I figured my own eyes were a little wide themselves.

Twelve slender elves in Christmas velvet and short, short skirts padded out of the darkness towards me, their steel fingernails long and sharp.

I ground my teeth. "You have got to be kidding me."

Santa might have been hurting, but he looked up and flashed me a death-head's smile. "My Slay Belles in the night."

The really pretty elves in really short skirts and long fangs started to flank me. There were too many. I didn't have enough ball bearings. Heck, I didn't have enough me. I couldn't handle them all.

I was so dead.

Then, the children started to pelt the elves with the apples. For every apple they threw, another took its place. Now, a dozen apples are a pain. Dozens of dozens of apples thrown by scared spitless kids are something else again.

The elves went down. Hissing like snakes, they rose and started for the kids. I did some pelting of my own ...

with my deadly ball bearings washed in the snows of Eden.

I took out three. The other nine wheeled about and charged me, only to be pelted again by the apples. Some broke upon impact, disintegrating the elves one by one.

I realized how Captain Sam had gotten those apples to magically appear. He must have watered them with the melted snows of Eden. No wonder those revenant elves went up in smelly smoke at the touch of their juices.

I turned to see Santa right at my throat. "You've been a very naughty boy, Victor. Time to die."

I saw Alice, in her short-skirted Christmas Gothic Lolita outfit, form out of mist behind him.

"But he hasn't been naughty with me yet, Santa."

She winked at me. "Leave you alone for a minute and there you go, throwing yourself at pretty elves."

"Hey, THEY were throwing themselves at me!"

"Close your eyes, kids!," I yelled, seeing the smile die in her neon eyes.

There must have something to the tone of my voice because all the kids covered their eyes. And Alice ...

Well, Alice, my ghoul friend, had a midnight snack.

A few Santa screams later, Alice flowed to me, licking her bloody fingers. "My first Christmas butterball turkey. Yum!"
***
A Christmas Haiku in a similar "vein" as my above post :

Christmas Moon looks down,
Alice's hand squeezes mine,
Stolen kiss is best.

{Lenny, if you're reading this, you know me - I couldn't resist putting in some yucky romantic stuff for the ladies who read my blog, too. LOL.}

Here's one of my favorite Christmas video's, Lenny. I hope you like it, too, Roland

CHRISTMAS IN JUNE FOR LENNY LEE_SLAYBELLES IN THE NIGHT_A VICTOR STANDISH CHRISTMAS TALE

It is still 110 degrees in my apartment, so I am longingly thinking of winter snows.

So, Lenny, I thought I'd bring a Christmas tale of Victor Standish your way. Hope you enjoy it :

{Don't be scared. Victor Standish has never met a monster he couldn't out-fox.}

Now for SLAY BELLES IN THE NIGHT --

The tolling of a lonely church bell echoed distant in the too quiet night.

The first Christmas after Katrina found New Orleans nearly deserted. The children's ward at Memorial Hospital was filled. Sleepy-eyed kids my age and younger were tossing fitfully in their hospital beds.

Thanks to Captain Sam, each child had a doll, teddy bear, or an actual New Orleans Saints football. They were all sleeping with them tucked secure in their arms.

And an apple was on each of their nightstands. I didn't know how he was doing it, but no matter how many apples the kids ate, another one took its place.

"So they'll know they will always have something to eat," he had told me as he left me on guard here.

Yeah, on guard.

Santa Claus was coming to town tonight for all the good little boys and girls.

Santa the revenant (think Vlad the Impaler ... but without as many morals.)

The Bourbon Street Irregulars were stretched thin tonight. I was all by myself.

So many children to protect from the ancient bloodbroker. Yeah, he stole the blood of every good little girl and boy to sell to other revenants on the black market all through the year.

The blood of innocence was a delicacy to bloodsuckers the world over.

I stood with my back to the far wall, looking warily into the shadows. The fat revenant appeared right next to me, his red hat set at a impish angle.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!," he rasped, his fangs going for my throat.

Right into his gaping mouth I thumbed two ball bearings washed in the melted snows of Eden.

"Suck on these, Santa!"

He grabbed his throat, the smoke of his burning flesh coming out of his open mouth in billowing, foul-smelling clouds. Hitting the floor with a heavy thud, he croaked into the night.

"To me, my elves!"

By this time all the children were awake, their eyes round with horror. I figured my own eyes were a little wide themselves.

Twelve slender elves in Christmas velvet and short, short skirts padded out of the darkness towards me, their steel fingernails long and sharp.

I ground my teeth. "You have got to be kidding me."

Santa might have been hurting, but he looked up and flashed me a death-head's smile. "My Slay Belles in the night."

The really pretty elves in really short skirts and long fangs started to flank me. There were too many. I didn't have enough ball bearings. Heck, I didn't have enough me. I couldn't handle them all.

I was so dead.

Then, the children started to pelt the elves with the apples. For every apple they threw, another took its place. Now, a dozen apples are a pain. Dozens of dozens of apples thrown by scared spitless kids are something else again.

The elves went down. Hissing like snakes, they rose and started for the kids. I did some pelting of my own ...

with my deadly ball bearings washed in the snows of Eden.

I took out three. The other nine wheeled about and charged me, only to be pelted again by the apples. Some broke upon impact, disintegrating the elves one by one.

I realized how Captain Sam had gotten those apples to magically appear. He must have watered them with the melted snows of Eden. No wonder those revenant elves went up in smelly smoke at the touch of their juices.

I turned to see Santa right at my throat. "You've been a very naughty boy, Victor. Time to die."

I saw Alice, in her short-skirted Christmas Gothic Lolita outfit, form out of mist behind him.

"But he hasn't been naughty with me, yet, Santa."

She winked at me. "Leave you alone for a minute and there you go, throwing yourself at pretty elves."

"Close your eyes, kids!," I yelled, seeing the smile die in her neon eyes.

There must have something to the tone of my voice because all the kids covered their eyes. And Alice ... well, Alice, my ghoul friend, had a midnight snack.

A few Santa screams later, Alice flowed to me, licking her bloody fingers. "My first Christmas butterball turkey. Yum!"
***
A Christmas Haiku in a similar "vein" as my above post :

Christmas Moon looks down,
Alice's hand squeezes mine,
Stolen kiss is best.

{You know me - I couldn't resist putting in some yucky romantic stuff for the ladies who read my blog, too. LOL.}
***

Here's one of my favorite Christmas video's, Lenny. I hope you like it, too, Roland

TO SHARE LOVE_HAPPY BOXING DAY!

One of the great things about love ...

is that it grows in ever larger ripples when shared.

One shares with another, then that heart touched by love shares, too.

One becomes two. Two becomes four. And four becomes eight.

Not every heart which receives, gives, of course.

Who of us has not received compassion and felt the better for it?

We are let into a busy traffic line, and we wave thanks.

But do we give it? Do we let another in somewhere else down the line?

Or do we just go on our way, too much in a hurry to return the favor to a stranger?

Have we received compassion, wisdom, kindness repeatedly from a friend, but then have been hurt by that same friend?

Can we find it in ourselves, that after taken so much, to give one thing ...

the benefit of the doubt,

to trust in the past acts of friendship to give ...

forgiveness?


That is the secret of Boxing Day, celebrated in Australia, New Zealand, Canada, and the United Kingdom ...

to give from the surplus that we have received on Christmas Day.

One of the clues to Boxing Day's origins can be found in the Christmas Carol, "Good King Wenceslas."

Wenceslas, who was Duke of Bohemia in the early 10th century, was surveying his land on St. Stephen's Day — Dec. 26 —

when he saw a poor man gathering wood in the middle of a snowstorm. Moved, the King gathered up surplus food and wine

and carried them through the blizzard to the peasant's door.

Christmas love and magic is better when shared. Just like laughter is somehow more than doubled when the joke or funny movie is shared with a friend.

What is more beautiful than a unicorn in the snow?

Two unicorns racing through the flurry of snowflakes together.
***