And inside you're burning
with some secret yearning
She lands on the floor at his feet with a thump, repressing a wince as her bones jangle inside her skin. No doubt she would be bruised in the morning. The vile demons had not been kind with her. Raising her gaze, she peers at the beast before her with mingled horror and fascination. The Grinch. She has seen the movies, of course. Read the book. But he is nothing like they portray in those trite little children’s shows, save for being green and hairy. No, this one is large and ugly, a revolting scent emanating from his greasy green fur. His teeth are sharp and yellow, the gums turning black and rotted. His eyes glow an unearthly green, looking as though toxic waste is spilling from his gaze. She shudders in fear and disgust, unable to hide the primal reaction. She tries to scoot away, but is unable to. The reindeer demons are there, sharp nails digging into her skin to prevent her escape.
His voice is the very opposite of his appearance. It is made up of sweet, dulcet tones that play tricks upon her ears, upon her mind. She shakes her head, trying to reconcile the image with the sound. But there is something beneath those smooth tones. Something black and horrendous. Something that sends cold shivers of dread racing up and down her spine.
She cannot quite place a finger on it, but she knows that this is the truth behind the sweetness. The rotten core of a beautifully red apple.
His tones sing to her, honeyed and convincing. She would be doing everyone a favor by destroying Christmas. The petty commercialism, the greed and gluttony of the season, it could be rectified. Could be turned back into what it was originally meant to be. Food and family.
Family.
The word strikes something harsh and discordant within her, recalling her back to the present. Back to the truth. That the commercial pettiness is all she has. Her husband does not love her. Barely even notices their children most days. He would not spend Christmas with them. He never did. Her one joy was watching her children open their gifts, attending the glittery parties of the season, eating delicious food and drinking too much mulled cider. He could not take that from her.
Want to help us save Christmas? The words are alluring and horrifying all at the same time. ”No!” she shrieks, hand flying out reflexively at the antlers proffered to her, knocking them from the Grinch’s sickly green hand. ”You are not saving Christmas, you are destroying it!” she says hotly, unable to help herself.
She is scrambling backwards then, not realizing at first that the demons have let her. That they are not prodding her back, forcing her closer. She is too focused on their master. On the horrible grimace that twists his features at her words, the outraged expression quickly replacing whatever cordiality had once been there.
Clambering to her feet, she scoots backwards even further, never taking her eyes from the horrible beast. He doesn’t try to stop her, true to his word. She is surprised by this. Surprised that he would not retaliate against her thoughtless lashing out.
”Very well,” he says through gritted teeth, his voice now gratingly clangorous. ”You have made your choice. Now you must live with it.” The last words are spat at her, much like a snake might spit venom.
She doesn’t realize she has backed all the way to the front door until she hits the console table. The bowl of ornaments that decorate its surface wobble precariously for a moment. What once might have made her heart seize in dreaded anticipation is now all too easily ignored. The rest of her lovely house is already destroyed. What does one more smashed item matter?
Clutching a doorknob, she yanks one of the heavy double doors open and scoots outside, away from harm. It is only once she has reached the bottom of the stairs that she realizes she is wearing neither shoes nor coat.
Well hell. What is she supposed to do now? There is no going back in her house. Her only option is to run across the street and see if her neighbors might be willing to help her.
Not that they were likely to believe her story.
Deciding that the worst case scenario would involve her simply being turned away, she breaks into a sprint, darting down her ice covered driveway, across the road, and up to the MacKenzie’s front door. Before she can even pause to ring the doorbell, a small figure is approaching her on swift feet across the snowy lawn. She freezes in horror, thinking it must be one of the Grinch’s demons coming to reclaim her.
But rather than an ugly little beast with fake antlers upon his head, she sees a small sprightly man with pointed ears and festive green and red garb. Her mouth drops open in astonishment. For a long moment, she is too stunned to even speak, much less move, when the elf grabs her hand and begins to tug. Afterwards, when she thinks back on it, she doesn’t know why she was so surprised. If the Grinch is real, why not Santa and his elves?
”Miss Lirren, you must come quickly! You’ll catch your death.” The little man’s words spur her into action. She doesn’t even stop to wonder how he might know her name. Forcing her rapidly numbing feet to work, she follows the elf around to the back of the house as her teeth begin to chatter violently in her skull. He leads her to the patio, a snap of his fingers unlocking the sliding doors. She enters the house, immediately grateful for the blessed warmth. It had really been foolish of her to leave without shoes at the very least.
”Thank you… uh…” she begins before realizing she has no clue what she might call the little man.
”Mr. Thimble,” he supplies matter of factly. ”And don’t thank me just yet. Christmas is still being destroyed.”
”Oh god.” Lirren whispers the words softly, tears springing to her eyes as the events of the last fifteen minutes catch up with her. ”I’m so sorry. I couldn’t stop them.”
”Now, now, my dear,” Mr. Thimble says sympathetically. ”Don’t fret, we will stop them.”
Lirren nods slowly, refusing to allow herself to fall into hysteria. Not yet. Not when this isn’t over. Not when her children are still in danger. ”I will help,” she says, the quiet vow filled with fierce determination. But before the small man can make any sort of response, there is a thud echoing from above, followed by eerily familiar cackling.
No. Not again. Her lungs clutch in remembered fear as she recognizes the all too familiar sounds. Suddenly several more elves dart into the room, whispering urgently to Mr. Thimble. When she is finally able to gasp in a breath, she manages to turn her attention to the elves long enough to hear what they are saying.
They mean to put up a fight. To wage a battle to save Christmas in this very house.
Suddenly a shriek sounds from above, an ear splitting, familiar scream. Jenny, Mrs. MacKenzie, must be awake. Must have seen the horrible little creatures. She always had been a bit melodramatic. At the sound of the scream, the elves spring into action, dashing from the room and up the stairs so that they might confront the evil that awaits. Lirren follows them more cautiously, unsure what she might do against these creatures. She had been so terribly unsuccessful last time.
Just as she is leaving the room, she spies the fireplace out of the corner of her eye. Oh my god, the fire poker! What better weapon could there possibly be? Longer than any knife she might find in the kitchen, but certainly just as deadly. Doubling back, she snatches the thing from its holder, swinging it over her head as she tests its reach.
Perfect! She would not go into this one unarmed.
With far more confidence in her step, she exits the room and follows the elves up the stairs. She can hear the battle already. The cackling of the demons as they strive to pull the house apart followed by the dismayed tinkling of the elves as they work to set things right.
When she reaches the landing, she sees a figure too large to be an elf or demon lying on the floor. ”Jenny!” Lirren exclaims in alarm, rushing to the woman’s side. Kneeling down, she gropes desperately for a pulse, hoping she is not too late. Fortunately it is there, steady and strong. No blood either. She seems to have simply been knocked out. Though given her horrendous scream, she might have been tempted to knock her out too had she been close enough. If she had had it in her, she might have smiled wryly at that thought.
A sudden yowl splits the air just before a large object leaps onto Lirren, sharp claws digging into her skin. Giving a not so insignificant shriek herself, she grasps wildly at the creature, poker flailing uncontrollably as she does so. It is only after she rips the hissing, spitting thing off of herself and tosses it halfway across the room that she realizes it is a cat.
”Oh, Butters!” Lirren gasps, even as small drops of blood trickle down her neck and back, soaking into her pajamas. ”I’m sorry!” She has no time for any further lamenting as a whole passel of elves and demons abruptly tumble into the room from the kitchen. The demons are clearly trying to make their way towards the Christmas tree standing proudly across the room in front of the large picture window. The elves are clearly trying to stop them. The result is a large, wriggling mass of little bodies as they grapple with each other.
”NO!” Leaping to her feet, Lirren races for the tree. Planting herself in front of it, she grasps the fire poker before her, fierce resolve written clearly upon her features. If she couldn’t save her own Christmas tree, she could at least save this one.
The demons come for her. Or rather, for the Christmas tree. Wielding the poker like a bat, she lashes out at them over and over again, attempting in vain to repel them. But there is only one of her, and far too many of them. Before long, one has managed to grasp her wildly swinging hand in an attempt to subdue her in a fashion similar to their previous encounter. Flailing desperately, she manages, to her surprise, to disengage the creature from her hand. Unfortunately, the sudden absence of weight causes her hand to swing wide and the poker to fly from her grip. Right into the large window behind her.
To her horror, the impromptu weapon smashes through the window, shattering the glass and causing a blast of cold winter air to enter the room. With a fresh bout of gleeful laughter, the tiny beasts disentangle themselves from the elves and leap out of the destroyed window. The elves quickly follow, leaving Lirren to make her own way. She can only stare at the broken window in shock for a long moment before finally coming to her senses. Darting for the front door, she pauses at the closet long enough to snatch a jacket and stamp her feet into a pair of too large boots before dashing from the house to follow the rapidly disappearing group of elves and demons.
To her dismay, she sees them enter the house next door. The Wilton’s house. Her daughter is friends with their daughter. Dread fills her at the thought of another child being placed in harm’s way. She sprints for the house, hoping she might actually be successful in turning the demons away this time. While it’s true they hadn’t managed to tear down the MacKenzie’s tree, the smashed window would not lend itself to a festive Christmas morning.
Racing in the front door, she can immediately hear the distinct crashing and shouting and cackling of the battling horde. Bolting into the living room, she finds the place already in shambles. ”Oh no,” she whispers in dismay as she takes in the trashed space. She is too late.
The demons are already moving on, the whole horde darting out the wide open front door as their delighted snickering echoes in their wake. The elves are hot on their heels in dogged pursuit.
Lirren moves to follow them, but a small noise alerts her to the presence of someone behind her. Whipping around, her silver eyes fall upon the familiar face of the Wilton’s daughter. ”Oh Lily,” she says in heartbroken tones. ”Go back to bed, dear. Please.”
Lily doesn’t seem to hear her as she stares at the destruction, at the battling mob of elves and demons, with wide-eyed terror. Starting forward, she means to usher the girl back up the stairs, away from this fight. ”Mr. Thimble, I…” she starts, hoping to alert him to the girl’s presence, to incite him to keep the demons away. Before she can finish, the door slams shut, locking itself so that Lily cannot leave the house. Glancing back, she sees the elf toss her a quick grin before he gets tackled by an antlered devil.
This time, without hesitating, she leaps into the fray, forgetting for a moment that she has no weapon. But she does have obstinacy on her side, and that has to count for something, right?
In any case, she is determined that this is the last house those horrid creatures will have a chance to destroy.
Lirren
starlit daughter of joythief and carnage