Author's note: the story written for this month's prompt, What the eye doesn’t see, has been entered into a competition and cannot be released until after the competition deadline. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these pieces of seasonal microfiction.
The Gift
As he stepped into the living room, Jimmy was amazed at the sight before him. The room was teeming with gifts; under the tree, resting on the couch, piled up before the fire place.
He leapt at the closest one, struggling to lift its heavy weight. Tearing through the paper wrapped around the hard surface, Jimmy’s blood froze when he saw the horror within.
Mortified, he cried, ‘You got me books?!’
Christmas Spirit
Donnie’s eye lit up at the presents under the tree. Heaps of boxes, wrapped in bright greens and reds, strung with ribbons of gold and decked with silver bows. His heart swelled with the love this season bestowed.
But, try as he might, Donnie did not find a single gift addressed to him.
Naughty or nice, it seemed Santa took you off both lists once you were dead.
The Beast
Fettered in the trap spun by the beast’s own hands, Marie was unable to escape.
She squeezed her eyes shut as the creature lumbered nearer but the sickly stench of it invaded her nostrils, causing her to gag involuntarily. Its laboured breathing loomed closer, closer. Unable to stand the darkness any longer, Marie opened her eyes in time to see the dripping maw descending toward her face.
Even worse than having to wear Great Aunt Doris’s knitted Christmas jumper was the sloppy kiss that followed.
Driving Home For Christmas
Something was following the sleigh. Nick had first seen it as they’d entered Alaskan airspace though he had not mentioned it to Cinnamon, his chosen co-pilot for the night. It appeared as a white light, no different from any other star but for the wide circle it described above them.
As they were leaving Utqiagvik, heading north for the comfort of home and hot chocolate, Cinnamon spied their pursuer and brought it to his boss’s attention.
‘Bogey at nine-fifteen o’clock,’ the elf said.
Nick smiled despite the situation. Just like all elves, Cinnamon had no concept of time and therefore did not understand the clock or how it could be used for positional relationships. This made them perfect companions for the time-bending sleighride but terrible at attending meetings with any punctuality.
They had cleared the land and were passing over the Arctic Ocean when the light began to descend. It plummeted with an incredible speed, whooshing past them in a flurry that brought a nervous clamour from the reindeer.
‘It’s too small to be a craft,’ Nick grunted as he wrestled the reins.
‘And it can’t be humanmade as it’s operating in our time-phase.’ Perhaps it was more accurate to say the elves had no concept of linear time; weaving the fourth dimension to their whims was an inherent skill.
The object rose sharply and Nick saw that it was the size – and shape – of a man. It/he swarmed around the sleigh in a dizzying manner. Nick was certain that, whatever this thing was, it was not concerned with their safety.
The thing slowed and brought itself to a halt above them. Nick stared in awe at the face of a bearded young man.
‘I’ve had it with you, Claus,’ the newcomer said. ‘You have usurped this solstice for too many years now.’
With a sweep of his arms, the reindeer were released from the sleigh which began to fall toward the cold waters below.
‘Now, the people can get back to honouring my birthday.’
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