Page 26 of Scary & Bright
A shadow appeared in the distance. My blurred vision couldn’t quite make out the shape, but I knew it was coming for me. What else was out here? My brain wanted to panic, to urge me to my feet to run, but I was just so tired. So tired, in fact, that I couldn’t even guarantee the shadow was there in the first place. I couldn’t guarantee I was even in the South Pole. Maybe I was in the yard of my childhood home. Maybe this was all a nightmare.
Soon, the sound of jingle bells paired with the shadow as the form crept closer and closer through the snow. I still couldn’t tell if the vision—and now the sound—was real, or if it was something I had manifested in my current state.
The shape grew closer as I continued to lay there, being slowly buried in the snow, never to be seen again. Every blink of my eyes felt like it was done in slow motion, and the beat of my heart noticeably began to slow as the dark shadow stayed on its journey toward me. Finally, as if it were happening in a dream, the shape of a reindeer was apparent. Two sprawling antlers silhouetted against the white of the sky, and the jingle of the bells was in tandem with each step of the creature. Then, a sleigh came into view behind it, a hulking figure cloaked and covered in the driver’s seat. There was only one figure I could picture who drove a sleigh led by reindeer, and I could feel the corners of my mouth lift ever so slightly in a delicate smile, feeling like I had, against all odds, been saved.
The sleigh pulled up beside me in the snow, and it was every bit as glorious as I imagined it would be in my childhood dreams. Even in the bleakness of the moment, I couldn’t deny the beauty and craftsmanship of the sleigh. My vision was still blurry and beginning to darken at the edges, but I could still appreciate the shimmering gold details and gorgeous deep red paint job. The reindeer that was pulling the vessel was black as night, mighty and impressive, the bitter cold not bothering him a bit as he chewed his cud and pawed at the ground, anxious to get moving once again.
The cloaked figure stepped out of the sleigh, the iced-over snow cracking and crunching under his weight. He was wrapped in multiple dark layers, and he felt absolutely massive as he stood over me. I couldn’t make out his face for the furs and layers, but I could feel in my heart that I was going to be okay. A real, live Christmas miracle.
“Santa?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper as I struggled to speak.
The dark entity leaned down and scooped me out of the snow as if I weighed no more than a small child. He seemed to hear my question as his hooded face turned to mine, but he only had one word to say.
“No.”
13
KRAMPUS
It was a miracle I found her at all. I bounded out to the barn the moment I heard of Holly’s departure, and I had never gotten myself and Coal ready so quickly in our lives. There was no way for me to know which direction she had gone, and the wind and snow would immediately cover any tracks she might have left behind. To use an overdone phrase, the search for her was truly like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Maybe even worse.
The day dragged on and on, and my hope of locating her began to waver. To think that she would doom herself to this—this lonely death in the snow—just to avoid me… It made my stomach churn to think about. The concept made an eternity of choking torture under my iron collar almost worth it just to save her from the awful fate of freezing to death.
Then, by total luck, Coal led me to her. I wasn’t sure if he could smell her or if he stumbled upon her by pure chance, but I couldn’t get to her quickly enough. Holly was barely awake, her eyelashes frozen shut and her face burned with cold and wind. Holding her was like holding a baby bird—so delicate and small in my arms. Much to my surprise, she spoke, and my heart immediately broke.
“Santa?” she asked me, her exhausted face hinting at the smallest smile.
“No,” I said softly, entirely unsure if she was even hearing me or if she was speaking from pure delusion. Still, my heart sank like a stone into the pit of my stomach as I understood that, even now, that fucking bastard Santa Claus was getting more credit than he’d ever deserve.
She never responded. Her eyes shut, and her long eyelashes touched the peak of her cheekbones like a porcelain doll, and I did my best to wrap her up in the extra layers I kept in the sleigh for the journey back to the castle.
The good news was that Coal could always find his way back, and as soon I was situated in my seat with Holly carefully draped across my lap, I gave the reindeer a firm hyeah, and he charged back in the direction we came.
* * *
Days passed. The hours on the clock in my bedroom—the only clock in the entire castle—ticked by like frozen molasses. My only driving forces were wanting to be near her for my own selfish purposes and needing to be near her to tend to the fire and ensure she was still breathing. In order to give her around-the-clock care, I set her up in my own room. My own bed. My own space.
Mister visited more than once, though the rest of the toys knew well enough to leave me alone.
“How is she coming along?” the bear would ask, his marble eye often turned to the ground with sympathy.
I’d tell him the same as I always did. She was doing as well as could be expected, and yes, I hoped she woke up soon as well. Mister never prodded me for a plan or asked what I intended to do next. I think he knew it was too hard to think about and too hard to answer. Truth be told, I didn’t have an answer. So much of my internal dialogue revolved around why I was even trying or why I was putting forth so much effort. My motivations, my needs, and my emotions warred within me. If she’d died in the snow, it would have been enough, I expected, to complete my task. A death was a death, whether it was by my hands or not. Right?
More than once, I looked at her, cuddled in my blankets, snug as a bug, and I thought about how easy it would be to kill her. It was a logical thought. Keep things emotionally sterile, take the easy way out, and kill her when she was unable to look at me in fear with those beautiful emerald-green eyes. But I couldn’t. Logic wasn’t going to win this round, and frankly, I didn’t want it to.
So, I kept her alive. Whether it was more for her benefit or mine, I could not say, only that when faced with her death, I was powerless. I would do what I could to stave it off, no matter how much trouble it might cause me in the end.
When I ate, I ate at her bedside. When I slept, I slept next to her, hoping my body heat would be enough to keep her warm should the fire die down. This was how I lived, by ignoring the pressing timeline of Christmas Eve and hoping she would wake up warm, happy, and safe.
That is until she actually woke up.
I was lying next to her, deep in sleep with my arm draped over her, when a blood-curdling scream pulled me from my slumber, and a force threw my arm and kicked away from me.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!?” Holly cried, scrambling out of bed and stumbling over the sheets. “Where am I? What happened?”
She was frantic and nearly fell backward, trying to get away from me as fast as she could. The terror in her eyes was thick, and it didn’t help that I was trying to orient myself after being woken up so brutally.
“Ah! Calm down, calm down,” I said, my words slurring with sleep and panic. I rolled out of bed on my side so as not to appear like I was chasing her. “You’re fine! I’m not going to hurt you. I was trying to take care of you!”