Naughty or Nice

DECEMBER 22

"Where's Father?" asked Zachary Rugger, in a very concerned, ten-year-old tone of voice.

"He left us," said Luke Rugger, his older brother. He brushed back his curly, raven-black hair and shook off the fresh snow. Luke's matter-of-fact tone triggered Zachary's anxious heart.

The two young boys were at the annual Santa Claus parade in the small mountain village of Wintergarde. This year's theme was A Charles Dickens Victorian Christmas . Brightly colored floats and festive decorations of poinsettias, evergreen and wreaths lined the streets, illuminated by the warm glow of lanterns. The parade was full of oversized paper mâché elf heads, magical reindeer, jugglers, clowns, spinning folk dancers, and a small marching band from the neighboring village of Snowmire. Of course, Father Christmas himself was the star of the show, riding atop a beautiful horse-drawn sleigh and handing out treats to the delighted crowd. It all shimmered under the falling snowflakes, adding an air of true Christmas wonder to the extraordinary celebration.

"Haha. Not funny, Luke. Where's Father?"

"I told you, he left us."

Zachary tucked his long, scrappy blonde hair back under his wool cap, pulling it over his ears to shut out the cold. He was small for his age and felt suffocated, desperately trying to see beyond the crowd for his father.

"He's been gone too long, Luke."

"Whatever." Luke was becoming highly agitated with babysitting his annoying little gnat of a brother.

The parade had always celebrated deep traditions and community since its establishment in 1856. Fifty-four years later, the population of Wintergarde was less than two thousand but it seemed like every single one of the townsfolk attended the parade, in their most exuberant holiday attire. It was the event of the year for Wintergarde, but it was all just very loud and overwhelming to a ten-year-old like Zachary, who began to panic. His father had left them to go buy cinnamon candy apples. He had been gone way too long, at least by Zachary's time clock.

"Come on, Luke," said Zachary. Luke just looked ahead at the themed floats passing by and applauded, as if he couldn't hear Zachary.

"Seriously, where is Father?"

"For the last time, he left us," said Luke then decided to add some color, "And he's not coming back this time."

Luke loved to terrorize Zachary. As an older brother of thirteen, he felt it was his duty. It would make a stronger man out of Zachary one day, just as Father had terrorized him.

"Liar, liar, liar!" yelled Zachary. He started slapping Luke's leg.

"Knock it off."

"Where is he?" said Zachary, yelling loudly.

"Over there," said Luke, pointing to his right without even looking. It was in the direction the parade was coming from.

Without thinking at all, Zachary burst in the direction of Luke's pointed finger. He pushed past the jam-packed spectators, the tune of Carol of The Bells rising in the air.

It sounded creepy and slightly out of tune. Funny looking, old-fashioned people, like street singers fromA Christmas Carol, were making their way toward him on the sidewalk. They were giving out candy and talking with children. Zachary ducked them and suddenly thought he recognized his father from the back, watching the parade. He pushed forward. Closer to the street. Closer. Closer.

Zachary stepped off the curb and fell backwards into the road. A huge Cricket by The Hearth float was almost on top of him. He put his hands over his eyes, ready to be stepped on by horses' hooves or hit by big rolling wheels. Out of nowhere, he felt a large, furry hand pull him straight up and onto the sidewalk. Back to safety.

Zachary turned to look at his hero and unexpectedly gasped.

It was a man dressed in a full-length brownish robe made completely of fur, constructed in patches from neck to foot. The collar was a very thick texture, and had pine cones running side to side. The robe had a hood with two battered deer antlers attached. On his back was a huge, dirty white sack filled with something heavy enough to make him hunch over. Strange and odd, he smelled of old-fashioned licorice taffy.

It wouldn't have been so staggering had it not been for the figure's face. Zachary could barely discern its features beneath the hood. The figure was completely covered in soot. His eyes were almost perfect circles of black so deep, Zachary couldn't tell if there were actual eyes in the sockets. His skin was pale white and rough, his nose longer than normal and pointed. He had a thin smile that revealed misplaced teeth, almost like a beaver. In his right hand was a bundle of large birch twigs the size of a wooden walking staff, wrapped in red ribbons. Tiny bells accented his fur, antlers and birch twigs, making an ethereal ring every time he shifted. On the twigs were streaks of a deep color that Zachary couldn't decipher. The fur man was all at once a saint and a demon. The antithesis of Santa Claus. Dark Sinterklaas.

The fur man stretched a bony finger covered in loose, leathery skin towards Zachary. His long, overly sharp fingernail brushed his cheek.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here, my lovely?" said the fur man in a creepy, slow, guttural voice.

Zachary stuttered, not sure what to make of this strange and mysterious character.

"Uh, thank you. Thank you very much for saving me."

"What's your name, lovely?"

"Zachary."

"Well, well, well, Zachary, where's your father?"

How did he know Father was missing? Innocently, Zachary replied, "He went to get me and my brother cinnamon candy apples."

"And your brother, where is the lovely?"

The fur man spoke so oddly it was unnerving. Zachary pointed down the street ahead of him.

"He's over there. The one with black curly hair. He told me my father left and isn't coming back."

"Oh, the lovely. Causing you trouble, eh? Older brother I presume?"

"Yes," said Zachary. "And he's always scaring me and being really mean. He hides my toys."

The fur man craned his neck towards Luke, considering him with the crock of his head. Long bony fingers scratched at his chin.

"A true meanie. And at Christmas time. What a shame. This certainly is cause for alarm." The man turned back to Zachary.

"Do you love Christmas, Zachary?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Peace on earth, goodwill towards men?"

"Yes."

"Does your brother?"

"Does my brother what?"

"Believe in Christmas magic?"

"I … I don't think so."

The fur man took Zachary's face with both thin hands and spoke quietly. "That's not good, lovely, is it? Luke must be taught a firm lesson. Right?"

He knew Luke's name. Zachary swallowed hard and pulled away from the man's hands.

"I really need to go find my father. Thank you again," said Zachary as he began to leave.

"Do you want to stop that brother of yours from terrorizing you every day? For good?"

Zachary turned and hesitated. What could the fur man mean by 'for good'?

"Well?" said the man, waiting for an answer.

"Yes. Yes, I would." Freedom and dread filled Zachary all at the same time.

"I can help you. Meet me tonight in Druxi Forest before midnight. Tonight, lovely."

A chill went through Zachary. Druxi Forest had been off limits before he could even remember. His father told him of things other people tended not to believe. Evil wood sprites, man-eating banshees, dark elves. Zachary's response was automatic fear.

"I'm not allowed in there. My father says it's an evil place. People go in and never come out."

"Is it really any more evil than the house you're living in now? With your brother?"

"My father said if I ever went in, the wild banshees would eat me alive."

The fur man chuckled, revealing his crooked teeth, as he rubbed his hands together. His sell was confident and affirming.

"Just stories, my lovely. All made up stories to keep you away from the wondrous wonders of the forest. There are such delicious delicacies in store for a special little boy like you."

"Well, I …"

Zachary knew he would love to be rid of his brother's mean streak, but not his brother altogether. He actually loved him deep down inside.

"Just think, you'll never be scared of your brother again, lovely."

"I guess … I guess I'd like that."

"Then here's what you do. Tonight, after everyone has fallen asleep in your house, go to your front door and open it, quiet like. There will be a small ball of light flittering about, waiting just for you."

"Like a fairy?" Zachary was stunned at the fantastical turn this was all taking.

"An overly excited wood sprite. Her name is Serinda. She will show you the way to where I am. She'll keep you safe, but don't ever veer from her path. It will get very dark if you do."

The fur man paused and stepped in, looking at Zachary with his deep black holes for eyes.

"How 'bout it, lovely?"

"How will Serinda know where I live?"

"Oh, she'll know."

"Can I get back home before sunrise?"

"Of course, of course. Even before that."

"Ok. I'll be there."

"You must come tonight. And I promise you … you will never be scared of your brother again. Promise you'll come?"

"I promise."

The fur man reached deep into his pocket and produced a necklace made of emerald green gilded rope. On the rope hung a large, golden sleigh bell. Its jingle jangle was soft and warm, like sitting by the hearth, fireplace in full blaze, with a big cup of mulled cider.

"Here. Put this around your neck before entering the forest. Just in case."

"In case what? You said it was safe."

"Oh, it is. This is just a precaution, lovely."

The fur man suddenly twirled around several times, his robe flying about him like a whirling dervish.

"Onward, blue skies. Feather me high," said the fur man. He spoke to the air, then seemed to float away, down the street. "I'll see you tonight, Zachary."

Zachary watched as the fur man dissolved into the excited crowd. How had he known so much? Who was he? Zachary examined the bell necklace then tucked it away, deep in his coat pocket.

He suddenly felt very scared and alone.

#

Zachary walked home by himself from the parade, having lost both Luke and his father. He could care less where Luke was, but the worry of his father was consuming his mind.

The snow-covered village along the paved road gave way to a dirt path with large fields, one of which held a modest wooden cabin and a small barn where Zachary lived with Luke and his father. His mother, God rest her soul, had passed away many years ago.

As he traveled, he looked all around as he'd done so many times before. The serenity of the surrounding nature calmed him. He always marveled at the huge snow-peaked mountains framing Druxi Forest, which in turn framed the village of Wintergarde. It would have been an exceptional landscape, right out of a fairytale book, had it not been for that forest. That bad, bad forest. Zachary had so quickly accepted the offer from the strange man at the parade, but his father had made him terrified of the evil, dark woods. Maybe I shouldn't go, he thought.

"You're late. Grab a pail, stupid," said Luke, as Zachary rounded the corner of the barn. Luke was tossing cracked corn and barley on the ground in the chicken coop pen and appeared incredibly agitated that he was doing chores without a helper.

Zachary ran to the slop barrel, picked up a flimsy pail, filled it and entered the pig pen. Five very hungry pigs looked up, hesitated, then took to charging straight at Zachary. He tried to quickly fill the trough with slop before the inevitable body slam of the hungry pigs.

Crash!

Zachary flew forward at the wooden fence, dropping the slop pail and tumbling down on top of the trough. Two pigs started nibbling his arm. Luke left the chickens and came over to stare at Zachary over the fence from outside the pen, doing nothing at all to help.

"I'm beginning to think knittin' is more your speed. Idiot," said Luke.

"Jackass bootlicker! Help me, Luke," said Zachary, as he tried to scramble out of the trough. The slop was slippery and he was sliding about.

"You limp-wristed Nance. Hell, no!" Luke laughed viciously at his own jab.

Zachary scooped up a handful of slop and chucked it straight into Luke's face.

"You heifer's ass!" said Luke, as he wiped the slop off his face. "Lord Jesus, I can't wait to get off this farm. Out of Wintergarde altogether. I'm gonna leave for good. Somewhere out East where no one can bother me again. Ever. You'll see."

Zachary listened to his brother's babbling as he finally climbed out of the trough onto solid ground. He backed up, avoiding the five pigs devouring their dinner madly. Luke ranted about leaving home at least every other day. He was an angry young boy and couldn't control it.

"Ha. Leaving? With what money?" said Zachary.

"I'm gonna be a successful land owner."

"You? You can't even count to ten."

Luke jumped the fence and came right after his little brother. Zachary, knowing this routine all too well, ran back to the trough and pushed himself between the feeding pigs, who would temporarily form a safety barrier for him.

"I'm gonna kick your butt into tomorrow, boy," said Luke.

"You and what army?" Zachary stuck out his tongue. Without waiting for a reaction, he jumped the trough, caught the fence and climbed over onto open ground, ready to bolt away.

Luke, surrounded by pigs, poop and slop suddenly calmed.

"I'm gonna tell Father when he gets home."

"Tell him what?"

"That you went into Druxi Forest."

"I did not."

"Wanna bet?"

With that, Luke burst over the pig fence and took to chase. Zachary zigged. Luke zagged. Jumping. Dodging. Rolling. The snow on the ground made it hard to sprint, but Zachary stayed ahead of his brother, who now was steaming angry.

As they weaved back and forth through an open field, their heavy breath misting the air, Zachary didn't realize Luke was guiding him exactly where he wanted him to go.

"Go on, sissy! Run, run, run," said Luke. "I'm gonna getcha. I'm gonna getcha."

"Just you try it, you—"

Luke burst out of a bush, sailed through the air, and tackled Zachary, and both boys flew backwards to the ground. Zachary sat up and scooted back easily from Luke. Almost as if Luke let him. Still on the ground, Zachary backed up further and further from Luke. Suddenly, he froze in fear, looking around.

He had crossed the line from the field into Druxi Forest.

Zachary stood fast and staggered back across the evil line to safe ground. Luke jumped up and caught his younger brother by the collar of his coat.

"Father is gonna love whackin' the daylights out of you."

"I hate you."

"And I hate you."

"I hate you more."

"Oh yeah? Let's give you a reason to hate me."

Luke dragged Zachary all the way back to the barn by his coat collar. Once there, he forced Zachary to refill a bucket of pig slop.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," screamed Zachary.

Luke just laughed loudly as he snatched up the pail full of slop, dragged Zachary through the pig pen gate, pushed his way between the pigs, who now had slop everywhere, and threw his little brother into the feeding trough. With a grand gesture, Luke took the pail and poured the pig slop all over Zachary, head to toe.

"There. Now hate me."

"Father is gonna punish you."

"Are you serious?" laughed Luke. "Father never believes you. Ever. I'm the favorite son. Wise up, little pig."

Luke scooped up fresh pig slop and rubbed it directly in Zachary's face, just to be sure he got him good, then started heading towards the house.

"You're gonna get what's coming to you, Luke. I promise."

"Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah." Luke entered the house and slammed the door.

"I promise!"

Zachary picked himself up out of the pig slop. The pigs were snorting happily, ignoring the little boy mixed in with their food.

Right then and there, Zachary knew he would be making a special trip to a very dark place later that night.

And suddenly, he wasn't scared at all.

#

The cabin was small and rustic, mostly open space areas within its four walls. The entire home was heated by a large fireplace. The boys were mostly responsible for chopping wood. It ended up on Zachary's chore list every day, though, when his father wasn't around. Upstairs, there were three bedrooms. Each had a small closet and an even smaller bed. It was clear that they had very little money, from the notably bare cupboards to the second-hand dishes and silverware they used.

After a measly dinner of reheated cabbage and venison soup with hard, white stone bread, Zachary realized his father really wasn't coming home.

"Why is Father so late?" said Zachary.

"Why are you so deaf? I told you at the parade, he's not coming back this time," said Luke.

"Why? Do you know something I don't know? Because if you know something you better tell me, Luke. You better tell—"

Luke stood up from the dinner table and headed to the old, deep porcelain sink with his bowl.

"I swear you're a half-baked anus cookie."

"Anise."

"Shut up."

Luke crossed to the fireplace and grabbed a pot of hot water. He returned to the sink, pouring the hot water in with care and added washing soap. "This happens every year. What day is it?"

"Saturday. December 22."

"Correct. Every year, 'round this time, Father disappears, and every year, 'round this time, you start acting like a big cry baby. Grow a pair, you Christmas fruitcake."

"Did he have to go to work? Maybe he's out trappin' at Cydaria Lake?"

"Maybe he's out trappin' at Cydaria Lake," mimicked Luke in a baby voice.

"Come on."

"How should I know where he is!" Luke was getting angry with all the questions, as if Zachary were accusing him of hiding something. "I don't ever ask him where he goes. He'll be home on Christmas Day with a plump pheasant. We'll eat, drink, be merry, and go to bed. Happens every year."

Zachary stood, picked up his bowl and the bread board, then headed towards Luke. As he got close, he accidentally tripped on the small throw rug and threw his dishes into the sink. A blast of hot water showered Luke. Zachary jumped up fast.

"You damn ass! What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm so sick of you." Luke cupped his hands and threw hot water in Zachary's face. Instinctually, Zachary pulled his fist back and punched Luke in the gut. Luke dove onto him, dropping to the wood floor and pinning him down by his shoulders.

"Who's in charge here?"

"Father."

"Well Father isn't here. So, who's in charge?

"Father!"

Luke slapped him across the face. Hard.

"Disrespect? You're an awful slow learner."

"You're going to hell for torturing me, Luke. Hell, hell, hell."

Zachary freed his right arm, took a huge swing and clawed right into Luke's fleshy cheek, drawing blood. Luke howled and reached up to touch his searing skin. His hand came away bloody and his eyes got wide.

"Lesson time, killer," said Luke.

Standing fast, Luke picked Zachary up off the floor like a weightless rag doll and pushed his face down into the sink full of hot water. He made sure his stupid little brother was totally submerged. He counted to sixty as Zachary struggled. Finally, Luke pulled him up.

"Now. Who's going to hell?"

"You, you bastard."

Down Zachary went again. Longer this time. Luke wasn't even counting. And back up.

"Again. Who's going to hell?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

Zachary's knee lifted with a mind of its own and slammed into Luke's crotch. Luke's grip let go as he doubled over in pain, screaming.

"You're dead, little freak!" said Luke. He reached into the sink, grabbed a dinner plate with two hands and aimed at his younger brother. The dish came crashing down with violent force, shattering into a hundred pieces over Zachary's head. The two boys froze for a moment not knowing what to do next.

Warm blood began to trickle down Zachary's head, into his eyes and mouth. He touched the red streaks with his hands. In a bizarre move, he began to rub the blood all over his face as it ran from multiple cuts.

"You'll get what's coming to you, Luke. Sooner than later. I promise you," said Zachary in a controlled monotone voice.

Zachary crossed the room to the fireplace as if hypnotized and threw on a few extra logs. He stood staring into the fire as it hissed and popped from the new wood. After a few moments, he moved to the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the upper floor. He took three steps up and turned back to Luke. His eyes were glazed, his face full of blood.

"You should lock your bedroom door tonight. Sweet dreams, Luke," said Zachary.

Luke stood silent, watching Zachary disappear up the stairs. He never felt bad about anything he did while fighting with his younger brother. Until just now.

Something, somewhere, was way off.

#

DECEMBER 23

Outside the cabin, the midnight moon reflected off the snow and ice as a howling wintery wind whipped plump snowflakes into thick drifts.

Inside, the chopped wood in the fireplace had died down, leaving a mosaic of orange-black glowing embers. The heat had long stopped and the house was chilly. It was quiet except for the occasional crackle of falling ashes. The hand-carved antique cuckoo clock on the fireplace mantle was about to strike 3:00am.

Once the clock downstairs struck three times, the door to Zachary's bedroom opened slowly. He peered out, afraid to find his brother waiting for him in the hallway. He was half hoping to see a light on downstairs signaling his father was home, but no such luck. He stepped out of his room then pulled the door shut in a quiet manner. His felt the cold of the wooden planks penetrate his socks right through to his feet. The fire must be all but gone , he thought.

He began to descend the stairs when he heard the faint sound of tapping. Tapping on a window. To his left.

Tappity, tappity, tap. Tappity, tappity, tap.

He stopped, and as he did, the tapping faded away. Just a sapling or a pine branch outside. I'm fine, he thought. He took a few more steps and the tapping started on the other side of the house. The right window.

Tappity, tappity, tap. Tappity, tappity, tap.

This time it was louder. He stopped again, but the tapping did not. The fur man had said there would be a ball of light. Serinda, or whatever, was going to be at the door and would keep him safe. Right now, he didn't feel safe at all.

Mustering courage, he descending the rest of the way down. As he left the last stair step, the tapping stopped. He waited, but it didn't come again. Crossing to the fireplace, he put two new logs atop the embers. It would be warmer soon, and hopefully that would keep Luke well asleep.

All of a sudden, the tapping started again on all the windows of the house.

Tappity, tappity, tap. Tappity, tappity, tap. Tappity, tappity, tap. Tappity, tappity, tap.

Zachary turned in circles looking at the windows. Bravely, he crossed toward the window on his left. Almost as in a hazy dream, long, bony fingers appeared, assaulting the glass. And a face. A deathly white face with hollow black eyes, staring. As he got closer, the face contorted into a frightening smile. The figure wore a thick fur hood with antlers. It was the fur man.

Scared and confused, Zachary stumbled backwards. Hadn't the fur man said Serinda would fetch him? A ball of light leading him to safety? Why was the fur man here? He took one more step toward the window and the figure disappeared only to reappear at the window behind him. Amidst the tapping, he now heard the faint ringing of bells. Everything kept getting louder and louder.

Through the noise, there came a tiny knocking on the front door. With all these sounds, Zachary was afraid his brother would wake. He took a deep breath and moved to the front door. His hand shook as he grabbed the latch. He threw open the door and all the sounds stopped at once. Zachary stood amazed.

There, in front of him, was a beautiful ball of light. The size of a kumquat, the color of pink grapefruit and green limes. It shimmered and flickered against the new-fallen snow. The tiny light bounced in circles, turning upside down. It kept tossing itself at Zachary. The over-excited wood sprite, Serinda, was here. She was here, and all would be safe.

"Are you Serinda?" said Zachary.

The ball blinked brighter, answering Zachary. He hoped the blinking meant 'yes'.

"Are we going to Druxi Forest?"

Again, bright blinking.

"Hold on."

Zachary crossed to the clothes tree, grabbing his winter coat, thick leather gloves and wool cap. He dressed quickly, put on his snow boots, and returned to the doorway.

"All set, Serinda?"

The ball of light blinked and did a little dance, spinning all the way around Zachary's head and ending with a tiny pop on his nose. Zachary giggled.

"Me, too. Let's go."

The ball of light jetted forward. Zachary stepped outside, pulling the front door shut. He looked up, marveling at the beautiful snowflakes in the moonlight. He followed Serinda down the path to the barn, past the pig pen into the open field beyond. In a few moments, Druxi Forest was right in front of them. Serinda stopped and started fading, slow, dim and bright, in waves. Zachary knew exactly what she was saying.

"Yes. I'm ready."

Serinda shot up in the air like a bullet and grew super bright, showering a path of light for Zachary to follow.

With a deep breath, Zachary lifted his right foot and stepped down into the fresh snow of Druxi Forest.

#

Large tufts of snowfall crunched beneath Zachary's boots as he and Serinda traveled into the forbidden Druxi Forest. There was no path, and if there was, the falling snow had covered it. The trees, at first, looked fresh and alive, towering above them, creating fantastic shadows on the ground, but as the pair traveled, the trees began to look ancient and rotting. Large trunks. Frayed bark. Barren branches. Icicle claws.

The moonlight faded out of view the farther they traveled into the woods. Dark, ominous shadows began to play just outside of Serinda's light. Zachary thought he saw magical creatures running up to the edge of the light to see who he was. Tree sprites. Wood witches. Were-cats. Their images floated in and out like dream monsters. Zachary stayed right within Serinda's light.

The snow was getting deeper, and Serinda adjusted her speed so Zachary could keep up. The forest seemed to be leaning in and whispering, Come to the fire, Zachary. It is already done .

A wintery wind soared through the forest and caught Zachary by surprise with its chill. Without warning, it wrapped around him tight, lifting him off the ground. Zachary was surprised but felt no harm coming to him. With a better aerial view now, he could see crooked branches of ancient spruce trees forming a dark, circular tunnel up ahead as he and Serinda moved toward its opening.

In front of the tunnel stood two giant elves guarding the entrance. They were over ten feet in height. They carried long spears and were dressed in grey tattered winter clothing that was blackened from time and the earthly elements. Their hair was wild and woolly. Each wore two tree branches in their locks to represent deer antlers. A large pot of green flames, placed in front of each elf, warmed them against the growing chill.

The winter wind placed Zachary slowly down onto the ground, right in front of the tunnel. Serinda flew to his side. As he landed, the elves crossed their spears before the tunnel entrance, signaling the pair could go no further. Zachary looked around at the darkness swallowing them past the glowing green flames. There was nothing but snow, trees, sharp icicles, and perhaps a wood witch waiting to eat him. He looked upward to the tall elves.

"Please, if I may, I've come to see the man in fur," said Zachary.

The two elves' eyes glowed with amber light as they looked at each other in silence. Zachary continued to explain.

"The man who wears a fur robe. It has a large hood with reindeer—"

"We know who you are. Show us the bell." Both elves spoke deeply in perfect unison.

"Bell?" Zachary was confused.

"Show us the bell," said the two elves again.

Serinda suddenly buzzed around Zachary's head, blinking brightly then flew to his side pocket. She kept flying at it and hitting it. All at once, Zachary remembered. The emerald green rope with a golden bell. He pulled it out and held the necklace up to the elves.

"The bell. This bell?"

"Put it on."

Zachary raised his hands and ceremoniously put on the bell necklace. Serinda bounced up and down with joy.

"The bell is a wish. When a wish is made, the bell will come back to the forest. Not only come back to the forest, but it will bring you with it."

"But why?"

"Keep the bell on from now on."

"Please. May I see the fur man now?"

The spears parted and the dark tunnel of trees stood before Zachary. He took a few steps into the deep snow, then hesitated, waiting for Serinda to light the way.

She didn't move.

"You're not coming with me, are you?"

Serinda's light faded dim. Zachary's heart grew heavy and afraid.

"Thank you for getting me this far. I guess, well, Merry Christmas."

Serinda's light blinked happily as she flew around Zachary's head and popped his nose one last time. The elves spoke.

"It's not far from here. The snow will part in front of you to show the path of the one you seek. Glimmer Trees will give you a hint of light. Namárië mára valto.

"Thank you, I think," said Zachary, then added, "Merry Christmas."

Zachary adjusted his wool cap as a growing winter chill came out of the dark hole ahead. He stepped past the giant elves and was suddenly in a whole new forest.

#

The trees were old and black as pitch. Somehow, they were alive, like a warm-blooded animal, writhing and breathing slow. Their bare, crooked branches leaned across at each other and intertwined, forming a tunnel a few feet higher than Zachary. Dangerous icicles hung down from the branches above. Past the first few trees, stairs made of large stone slabs appeared, leading downward into the earth. Zachary could see blue ice forming thick walls, but he couldn't make out the bottom stair. How far down was it? He halted, considering whether to go back or forward. He deeply wished Serinda was there to guide him, but he knew there was only one direction he could go to find the fur man.

As Zachary descended the stairs to the lower level, the tunnel trees remained but got naturally higher. Ice walls burst upward on either side of him, confining the tunnel. Glimmer trees materialized along the lower path, glowing an ethereal green-yellow light that shown just enough to see ahead. As the elves had promised, the snow was parting in front of Zachary, marking the magical way to the fur man. At least he hoped it was.

He had traveled for a little more than ten minutes when he abruptly came out of the tunnel of trees into an ice-covered clearing. The snow parted and led him left, back into an open forest. As Zachary followed, he noticed the path becoming harder and harder to navigate. He stopped and looked around. Nothing but forest trees scattered in haunting patterns as far as he could see. He took one step forward and the snow did not part. He paused then took another step. The same. He felt panic start to rise. He looked about the woods for help from a giant elf or dazzling ball of light. Nothing. He was alone.

"Serinda?" yelled Zachary. His voice echoed off the pines as he waited a moment then called out again, "Serinda? Please, help me." Nothing at all but his helpless echo.

All the sounds of the forest suddenly went deadly quiet. Not a peep. Underneath the nothingness of sound there came a deep rumble attached to a grinding noise. Mechanical? Animal? Unearthly? Zachary couldn't tell what it was, but the sound was getting louder, and closer, surrounding him in a sphere of noise.

Not knowing what to do, Zachary looked ahead. He had a straight shot through the snow to a large oak where he could climb up and hide. Without thinking, Zachary bolted towards the tree.

He almost reached the oak when he heard a gigantic cracking sound. The snow-covered earth gave way all around him and he began tumbling downward in an ice-tunnel slide, slipping side to side. He yelled loudly as the slide seemed to twist, turn and drop downward forever. Without warning, it just spat him out onto solid earth. The crazy ride was over. Rolling onto his back and sitting up, he scanned his new environment.

A small underground cavern. Rock walls broken up by meandering tree roots. A warm crackling bonfire. Sitting logs. A bed of pine needles. A ripped-up quilt. The smell of mildew, chalk dust and … licorice taffy. The fur man.

"Took you long enough, lovely."

Warm as it was inside the cavern, the man was still in his fur robe and antler hood. He glared at Zachary with his hollow black eyes. Zachary was trying to catch his breath.

"You kept your promise. Come. Sit by the fire. Warm your haunches."

Zachary stood and crossed to the fire, sitting on a big spruce log directly across from the fur man. He wiped white chalk dust off his clothes.

"Comfortable?" said the fur man.

"Yes," said Zachary.

"Cup of cider? Warms the soul."

"No."

"Ah. I can see you're ready to take care of business. That meanie brother of yours?"

"Yes," said Zachary then just blurted out, "Who are you? Where are we? I feel like I'm no longer anywhere near Druxi Forest or my village, or my house. Is all this real magic, or am I just dreaming?"

"Oh, no, lovely. This is as real as the fingerly fingers on your hands."

Zachary hesitated in his questioning. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but out came his inquiry anyway.

"Are we going to use magic on my brother?"

"I suppose you could call it that. If it works, it'll be magic. A true miracle, actually." The fur man laughed at his own little joke.

"Let's get back, then. Won't it be morning soon? Doesn't magic work best under the cover of night? Or something like that?"

"Slow down, lovely. I should explain before we go anywhere."

"Explain?"

The fur man turned into a very expressive story teller.

"First thing to know, time doesn't work here as it does back beyond the forest. There is no formula, but what feels like an hour here is usually only a few minutes there. We have plenty of time to get you back to your house.

"The second thing to know is who I am. And why I'm here. And why you're here."

The fur man took a big breath and began the tale.

"A long time ago, before either of us were even a thought, the Ancient Wood Druid, Kuprax, fell in love with this very forest. It was buried so deep in the mountains he never believed the humans would come here to make a home. But they did. They called it Wintergarde. In a short time, they were scarring the land. Making angry bargains against each other. Creating secrets no one should ever know. Very bad people with even worse intentions.

"Kuprax hated this constant misery. It was seeping over from the human village into his exquisite forest, decaying all it touched. One day, Kuprax could take it no longer. He vowed to fix the blight that had diseased Wintergarde and Druxi Forest. As an ancient druid, he knew he couldn't just walk amongst the townsfolk and start wreaking havoc. He needed something more subtle. Less threatening. More human. Me."

Zachary's eyes got wide and his jaw dropped slightly. He was amazed but blinded with confusion.

"I am the healer of bad intentions. I am the power that can change bad people into good. Give them one chance during Christmastide to mend their ways." He paused then added, "I am known as Belsnickel."

"Belsnickel?" said Zachary.

"Belsnickel. The furry St. Nicholas." He laughed as he lightly tossed his robe about. "I arrive at homes in Wintergarde before St. Nicholas comes on Christmas day. My duty is to check up on the children of Wintergarde. Those who are good get candy sweets and orange marmalade cakes from my shoulder sack. Those who are bad get switched with my birch twigs."

He raised his right hand, snapped his wrist, and long birch twigs appeared, wrapped in red ribbons. He stared at them with a knowing eye.

"Oh, the baddies. They get a good switching from me, and a warning: Lest ye mend your wicked way, St. Nick won't come on Christmas Day. " He stared, ruminating. "The hope is for the baddies to remember me and the chance I give them. To grow up to be a good and honest person. It's not always successful."

There was a long pause. Then he snapped right out of it.

"That's pretty much it." He flipped his wrist and the twigs disappeared. "All righty, then, lovely, let's go take care of that meanie brother of yours." Belsnickel stood from his sitting log with sprightliness and grandeur. He stretched his arms then began moving to the cavern wall behind him.

"Coming?"

"Uhm. I'm really lost." Zachary's face said it all.

"Oh, my gosh. My bad. Questions?" Belsnickel returned immediately to his sitting log, cupped his hands at his knees and waited for Zachary's questions.

Zachary was suddenly scared. This fantastical adventure was about to end in something happening to his brother. Something bad.

"What are we, you, going to do to my brother?" said Zachary.

"What do you think I should do?" said Belsnickel.

"I … I don't know. I just want him to stop being so mean. Stop hurting me. Be nice."

"That's a tall order for Luke. He needs a good scare."

"Are you going to hurt him?"

"Birch twigs leave a mark."

"Why did I have to come here?"

"Well, I usually only see four or five children a year during Christmastide. Your home was not on my list this year, so I needed to see if you really needed my assistance or were just having a moment at the parade. It's clear you need my help."

"Why have I never seen you at my home before? Like, never."

"Lucky, I suppose, lovely."

Zachary paused, contemplating the entire scene and what was about to unfold.

"What if this doesn't work? What if he just stays mean?"

"That is dealt with when the time comes."

Zachary put that visual out of his head as another disturbing question arose.

"Do you know where my father is?"

Belsnickel got up and walked toward the cavern wall again.

"Come. The clock fades. Tick tock, tick tock."

Zachary stood up, wondering why Belsnickel didn't answer his last question. Was he hiding something? Zachary stared into the fire imagining all sorts of bad things.

"Tick tock, tick tock."

"Oh, sorry."

Zachary rushed across the cavern as Belsnickel opened a small door in the stone wall. The door was highly ornate with jewels and engravings all about it. Past the door was a small, round room made entirely of blue ice.

"It's an ice-evator," said Belsnickel as he stepped into the room and turned around to Zachary. "Going up?" He laughed out loud heartily.

There was no denying Belsnickel had a strange sense of humor that lightened his dark presence. Zachary stepped into the room and Belsnickel closed the door with a bang. He looked up to see a vast ice tunnel that just kept ascending out of sight.

"Hang on. The West Wind is a gusty ol' fellow. Very powerful," said Belsnickel.

Before Zachary could even respond, there was a deafening howl and roar. The room filled with a freezing wind that made funny ripples in Zachary's cheeks. He could barely keep his eyes open.

"Here we go," said Belsnickel, as he yelled against the roar.

There was a quick ticklish feeling all over and then complete weightless as they floated off the floor. It seemed it would be a slow ascent until they both shot upward like a cannonball with double gunpowder. Instantly, they were back in the snowy Druxi Forest.

"Woa," said Zachary as he stumbled for balance.

"Told ya. Pretty impressive on the first ride."

"Woa."

"Haha. Speaking of ride. Here's ours now."

Zachary turned to see two enormous jack rabbits pulling up to them with a white wooden sleigh. The golden runners were curled up like elven shoes and the construction was made entirely of white birch twigs. As it stopped, Zachary could see a burgundy and gold interior. The seating looked extra cushiony, like two pillows sewn together. A suitable ride indeed. Zachary moved towards the giant rabbits with Belsnickel.

"Blixel. Snowball. This is Zachary." The rabbits hopped up and down enthusiastically. Belsnickel patted and scratched each rabbit behind the ears as they happily cuddled next to his robe.

"Dear friends of the forest. Always here when you need them. Now. Hop in. Tick tock, tick tock."

Belsnickel hopped into the sleigh and Zachary followed. He had to squash close to Belsnickel.

"A bit tight, I admit. But it's a short journey to the edge of the forest. Blixel and Snowball travel a mite fast."

"Like the ice-evator?"

"You be the judge." Belsnickel gave a sly smile then cried out to the jack rabbits. "Ho, Zephyr!"

The sleigh took off, flying across the forest. Trees, shadow creatures, huge drifts of snow, all flew by so fast it was just a blur. Snow dust kicked up from the runners, forming a chilly white curtain in front of them. Where they were was anyone's guess.

"Ya, ya, ya!" cried Belsnickel to the rabbits.

The sleigh bolted forward so fast, Zachary had to grab the sideboard to not be tossed to the ground.

In a moment, the sleigh came to an abrupt halt, blowing a huge snow cloud up and over into the sleigh. As the snow dust cleared, Belsnickel announced.

"We're here. Come along. Tick, tock. Tick, tock."

They got out of the sleigh and Belsnickel thanked each rabbit with a carrot from his pocket. Zachary thought he actually saw the rabbits smile. The sleigh turned about and with a mighty gust of wind and snow, disappeared back into the forest.

Belsnickel led the way out of Druxi Forest. Over the field, past the barn with sleeping pigs and chickens, and up the path to the house where Luke was fast asleep. Yellowish-gold light flickered in the windows, meaning a good fire was still going. They reached the door and Belsnickel looked back to Zachary.

"I look forward to meeting your brother." He lifted his hand and proceeded to knock hard three times.

It was 3:20 a.m.

#

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sounds echoed against the crisp, frozen air as Belsnickel waited for a response. Zachary could feel a strange energy all about. Belsnickel was changing. Charging. Becoming stronger.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Belsnickel banged much harder this time. He leaned to the door to listen for a response. His agitation was growing fast.

"Are you sure he's home?" said Belsnickel to Zachary.

"Yes. I built a good fire before comin' to see you so he would stay asleep," said Zachary.

From within the cabin came a muffled voice.

"Who in huckin' fell is that? Go away, horse's ass," said Luke.

"I told you he was home," said Zachary. He was starting to think he wanted Belsnickel to leave. Go home and let Luke just be Luke.

Belsnickel placed his hand on the door, clicking his fingers nervously.

"Asleep and not coming to the door, huh?" said Belsnickel.

"Let me—"

"No. You stay right there."

Zachary obeyed, almost too quick.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The knocks resounded like mountainous bell tolls.

Luke sat up in bed. He slipped on his wool socks as he responded.

"Freakin' piss-ant! What do you friggin' want? Stupid freakin' farm hand looking for work? Do you know what friggin' time it is?" said Luke.

Luke kept ranting as he thumped all the way down the stairs. He descended off the last stair and was about to cross to the front door.

"Cover your eyes," said Belsnickel to Zachary.

Zachary's hands moved to his face. Belsnickel drew a huge breath. He puffed out his chest and slammed his hands into the door. It shattered into a hundred pieces, flying all over the cabin floor. Snow sifted in and a stinging wind filled the house.

Luke flew backwards onto the stairs, smashing his head. Dazed and bleeding, he stayed there. He could not comprehend what was happening.

Zachary stayed outside, stuck in his place. This was not what he expected at all, but it was too late.

Belsnickel took four large, booming steps though the doorway and stopped. He addressed the fallen Luke.

"Your name, boy?"

Luke didn't answer. Shock rippled through his body.

"Your name, boy?" said Belsnickel louder.

Two more giant pounding steps forward and Belsnickel was hovering over Luke. Shaking in total fear, Luke found his voice. He looked up at the ghoulish face with leathery skin and holes for eyes.

"Luke. My name is Luke."

"Luke Ruggers?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who I am? Why I am here?"

"No. No, I don't."

"I am Belsnickel. I come from Druxi Forest."

"Belshkick—"

"Belsnickel, boy," said Belsnickel, speaking in a booming, threatening voice. "You'll be wise to remember it."

He leaned down to Luke.

"I am here as a companion of St. Nicholas. Tell me, Luke, have you been naughty or nice this year?"

Luke instantly lied.

"I've been nice. So nice. I do my chores on time. Extra sometimes. I help my father chop wood, do dishes every night. Nice. Extra nice."

The entire house began to glow in a bluish-white light. The strange, cold wind whipped up the stairs, through the rooms and back down. It snapped at Luke's body, sending freezing goosebumps all over him. It was colder than anything he had ever felt.

Belsnickel's black hollow eyes lit up, a small bead of glowing red, right in the middle of each pupil. He stared at Luke, wondering what would trigger the next move. Luke had one lie in place already.

Zachary knew Luke was gonna lose. Real bad. This wasn't what he wanted. Zachary stepped into the house, staying by the doorway. No one saw him.

"Do you have a brother? A brother named Zachary?" said Belsnickel.

Luke almost told the truth but swayed again.

"No. No brother."

Belsnickel walked backwards to the front door, his eyes on Luke the whole time. He reached back and snagged Zachary by the collar of his coat, gentle but firm. He swung him forward and confronted the lie. Luke turned pale white.

"No brother? Who is this? His name?"

"Please don't hurt me," said Luke.

"His name?"

"Zachary."

"Yes, Zachary. Zachary Ruggers. Your younger brother. The boy you should care for, be kind to, let come to you whenever the coldness of the world bites down hard. Is that who you are?"

Luke began to sob, tears falling fast, unable to answer. Belsnickel let go of Zachary as he spoke his condemning words.

"You've been a very, very naughty boy this year, Luke."

Zachary saw the bluish-white light inside the house increase its intensity. Something very bad was about to happen. He moved behind the couch to hide. He was deathly afraid.

Luke suddenly bolted off the stairs and ran towards the front door. Belsnickel dropped his sack, turned to the door, then raised his arms and flipped his hands. A huge drift of snow barreled through the front door, knocking Luke off his feet. Every window in the house imploded, showering the floors, the furniture, the boys with glass. Wind was blowing everywhere and its roar was incredibly loud.

"Come here, Luke," said Belsnickel over the wind. Luke couldn't make himself obey. He knew what was coming.

"Please. I'm so sorry," said Luke.

"Come here," said Belsnickel with a deep growl. He opened his hand wide and Luke flew off the floor and landed at his feet.

"You're not sorry, boy. You're only sorry you got caught."

Belsnickel thrust open his right hand, flipped his wrist, and the bundle of birch twigs with the flowing red ribbons appeared. His body seemed to grow taller, towering over the weeping boy. Luke tried to run for the stairs. Belsnickel caught him by the collar of his pajamas and threw him like a sack of small potatoes onto the hearth of the fireplace. Luke crashed into the stone structure hard. Belsnickel bellowed against the wind as he pounded his boots towards Luke.

"Lest ye mend your wicked way, St. Nick won't come on Christmas Day."

Down came the birch twigs onto Luke's body. Luke screamed in pain, raising his arms to fend off the assault. The twigs came down again. Again. Again. Each strike was followed by a scream and a deep gasping breath. Zachary hid his eyes behind the couch the entire time.

"You will learn. He's your kin."

Smash of twigs. Screams.

"You are blood."

Again. Gasps.

"He deserves a kind brother."

Again. Screams.

Belsnickel became dazed and drunk on making Luke pay for his sins. Each swing of the birch twigs was stronger than the last, ripping through cloth and drawing blood from everywhere. Luke's screams came faster and louder each time he was hit.

Zachary could take it no more. He opened his eyes and stood up to see the horror unfolding. Luke was balled up in front of the fireplace, a mess of blood and tattered clothes.

"Stop. He's bleeding," said Zachary to Belsnickel.

"So were you a few hours ago. No one helped you," said Belsnickel.

"Enough."

"Enough is never enough for an atrocious human being like your brother."

Belsnickel grabbed his heavy sack off the floor and swung at Luke with all his might. The sack smashed Luke's face open as orange cakes and candy sweets flew in every direction. Then came more twigs. Blood splattered. The bluish-white light peaked. The wind reached fever pitch.

"Belsnickel, stop, stop. I love him," said Zachary.

Every sound, every motion stopped all at once. It became silent and very dark. Luke was crying on the hearth. Belsnickel had turned away from Luke, heaving for air. Zachary stood his ground as he walked up to Belsnickel, praying he wasn't next to be whipped.

"What did you say?" said Belsnickel, weak and winded.

"I love my brother," said Zachary in quiet, sorrowful voice.

Belsnickel stood staring straight ahead for a moment, then, without a word, wandered towards the open front door, stepping on glass and snow that covered the floor of the house. He reached the front door, slung his sack over his shoulder and turned.

"The wounded recognize the wounded. Be very careful, Zachary."

Belsnickel raised his arms, popped his hands forward and disappeared into thin air. The wind snapped and whipped as shards of glass flew back into their window frames, snow on the floors sifted to the outside, and the front door shards became a solid wooden door once more.

Zachary turned to the crying mess of a brother curled up on the hearth. He walked over and gently touched his back. Luke flinched then crept out a searching hand. Zachary took it, holding it gentle.

"It's over now, Luke. It's over."

Deep down, Zachary knew he was lying.

#

The golden sun broke over the majestic mountains with a crystal blue sky and a light fall of fluffy snow. The winter birds sang a sweet song of joy for the day, but inside the cabin, it was numbing and quiet. Zachary had not slept all night and went out to the barn at the crack of dawn to do his and Luke's chores. He had not seen his brother since he had cleaned his wounds and put him to bed. He suspected he wouldn't see him until late afternoon, if at all.

Zachary was washing holiday dishes for the Christmas dinner he hoped they would be having in two days' time. He heard a creak on the stairs and turned to see Luke making his way down the steps very slowly. There were dark red streaks on his face, arms, legs. Luke held the rail with both hands to avoid tripping.

"You're up. I made lunch," said Zachary.

"I'm not hungry," said Luke.

Zachary opened the icebox and grabbed the food.

"C'mon, you're always hungry."

"I said … I'm not hungry."

Zachary put the food down on the kitchen table.

"I did your morning chores. The chickens wanted me to say hi to you."

Zachary laughed but Luke barely even heard him. Zachary's heart grew heavy.

"Okay, well, I made up the couch. Extra quilts and a nice roaring fire to keep you warm. You can eat later."

Luke silently moved to the couch and sat down, wincing. Every part of his body was on fire from the beating he'd received the night before. He lay back and adjusted himself on the holly berry pillows Zachary must have taken from the Christmas trunk. He pulled two quilted blankets over himself, snuggled into the couch and faced the fire. It felt warm and healing as he closed his eyes.

Zachary tip-toed to the fireplace to add a few logs to the fire. He tried to be quiet and not bother his resting brother. He sat down on the hearth and just looked at Luke. He felt so disturbed, hopeful, sorry.

"You knew. The Belsh … the Bells … uh," said Luke, struggling with words, his eyes shut.

"Belsnickel."

Luke opened his eyes and stared at Zachary. He was in so much pain, but his logical mind needed Zachary to decipher what had happened to him.

"Yes. How? What is it?" said Luke.

"I don't know how to explain it," said Zachary.

"Try words."

"Luke, this wasn't supposed to happen."

"So, you did know?"

A chasm of guilt opened in Zachary, its darkness trying to swallow him as he spoke the truth.

"Yes. I knew."

Luke went completely silent and glued his eyes to the ceiling. Zachary, not knowing how to continue, stood from the hearth and moved to the couch to tuck Luke in.

"Don't touch me."

"Please, Luke …"

"Don't touch me."

Luke's words stung like a hundred wild hornets, leaving Zachary at a complete loss of what to say or do. He walked into the kitchen to finish washing the dishes, leaving Luke alone by the crackling fire.

"You did this. All of this," whispered Luke to himself. He looked over the back of the couch at Zachary. Time to change the rules of the game, thought Luke.

The cabin became so quiet and still with the anticipation of something to come. Something very, very dark. Foreboding. Final.

#

As the sun began to set and long afternoon shadows played across the snow-covered cabin, Zachary went out to the barn alone once more. Without hesitation, he set about the evening chores, both his and Luke's. On the way back to the house, he got excited because tonight he would decorate for Christmas Eve. It was tradition to decorate with fruits and nuts and fresh pine, and of course, the yule log. He had bought the fruits in the village about a week ago, along with a big bag of mixed nuts. He would gather the yule log and an armful of pine swags made from the big trees outback of the cabin before he went inside. Maybe decorations would make Luke smile, if only for a moment.

Luke was sleeping soundly when Zachary came inside from the bitter cold. He was carrying the yule log and a large bundle of fresh cut pine swags, white spruce to be exact. There was sap all over his hands, but he didn't mind. The crisp aroma of pine filled the air, transporting him to dreams of Christmas and family. Zachary placed the yule log and swags on the floor beneath the kitchen table. He opened the icebox to retrieve the fruit bag. The nuts were in the cupboard. He took all his decorative pieces and spread them out on the table. He was ready to begin.

Outside, a light wind kicked up as the snow fell heavy on the ground, covering everything in an enchanted yuletide shade of winter. Zachary felt a chill and saw the fire was going down. He crossed to the fireplace, grabbed two logs and placed them onto the glowing embers.

"Waste of time," said Luke.

Startled, Zachary turned around to see his brother sitting up on the couch.

"What? What's a waste of time?"

"Decorating."

"It's almost Christmas Eve. It's tradition."

"And what does this tradition remind you of, little brother?"

"Christmas magic. Sinterklaas. Family."

Luke laughed out loud cynically.

"Family? Seriously? Father hasn't been here on Christmas Eve for years. You and I just argue all night. And mother, well, she's dead and that puts a cap on that."

"Warm memories. Makin' cookies. Decorating …" Zachary stopped. He didn't want to make Luke start arguing. He needed him to be good. He didn't want Belsnickel to return. He crossed to the kitchen, picked up a few pine swags and walked to the back of the couch.

"You wanna help?"

"Decorate? You're crazy. And a liar. None of those things in your 'memories' ever happened."

Zachary ignored him and crossed to the fireplace, put down the pine swags on the hearth and started clearing nick-knacks from the mantle. Luke threw off the quilts, shifted and put his feet down on the floor.

"Do you know why Father really goes away just before Christmas?" said Luke.

"I'm not fightin' with you, Luke."

"It's part of our 'Christmas magic', Zachary. Do you know?"

Zachary turned with deep concern written all over his face.

"Luke, stop. Don't you remember last night? He'll come back."

"Oh, I'm quite clear about what happened last night. It won't happen again."

Luke reached beneath the cushions of the couch, pulled out his father's double barrel shotgun and stood defiantly. Zachary turned white as he dropped nick-knacks to the floor, their delicate features turning to dust.

"Let him come back." He looked down the barrels , eyeing up an imaginary target. "He'll be sorry he did." Luke smirked. He was good with a gun, and Zachary knew it.

"Luke, please, put that away. That gun won't stop him."

Luke took a solid step toward Zachary. His voice shifted.

"Maybe, I should just shoot you. I'll bet that'll make Father stick around during Christmas."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, little brother. You already know the answer."

"Stop it, Luke."

"Spit it out."

"I said, stop it."

"Just answer the question. Why does Father really go away just before Christmas?"

"I don't know," said Zachary, feeling a deep lie in his heart.

Luke shifted the gun's sight right at Zachary's head and spoke his mysterious answer.

"Because Mother died on Christmas Eve. Died birthin' you. Father can't stand to look at you this time of year because you killed our mother. Killed her!"

Zachary felt the repulsion for his brother rising fast. His desire to protect Luke from Belsnickel dissolved in an instant.

"Liar! I didn't kill her. I didn't kill anyone. Father leaves here because he wants to. How is that my fault?"

"Guess there's only one way to find out."

Luke walked straight up to his brother and placed the shotgun on his sweaty forehead.

"Now, close your eyes and count to three. If you're guilty, then boom . One, two …"

"Belsnickel!" screamed Zachary, praying his life would be spared.

The entire house quaked and exploded into blue-white light. The lanterns and windows shattered. The front door burst apart, blowing in wild night snow and a chilling wind. Zachary bolted to the kitchen table and hid under it. Luke stood his ground with the gun, waiting for the demon man to enter. The house shook again from its roots. Three long, dark, ghost shadows swooped into the house through the broken windows. Translucent black and reeking of death rot, they moaned in a carol of dissonant harmony. One flew above the fireplace. Two flew to either side of the hearth. Luke turned to the fireplace, aimed at the shadow floating high above the mantle and fired the shotgun. Buckshot ricocheted off the stone chimney and into the house. The shadow shuttered but remained floating. Waiting.

A deep, ethereal voice boomed behind him, filling the house with its dread of finality.

"Naughty …"

In a panic, Luke loaded more shells into the shotgun.

Zachary shivered in a frenzy under the table as Belsnickel tromped through the shattered door into the house with his big, heavy boots. He shook ice and snow from his fur cloak and turned toward Luke. Zachary knew this would all end in blood. Quick and lethal.

Belsnickel walked towards the fireplace. Luke took a solid stance and raised the shotgun.

The two silently faced off. Belsnickel's eyes glowed a deep red as he considered Luke in front of him.

"Naughty. Nothing but a naughty little boy," said Belsnickel.

"Take one more step. It'll be your last," said Luke.

"You've hurt your brother. Again. I gave you one chance."

"I only threatened him. I wouldn't have shot him. He's fine."

"Some humans are born toxic. Nothing can fix that."

"I don't need no fixin'."

"You don't get to decide that. I do, you naughty, naughty boy."

Belsnickel took one step toward Luke and Luke pulled the trigger of the shotgun. As if in slow motion, Zachary saw the two shadows by the hearth swoop down and shrink themselves into the barrels of the weapon. The slugs ejected with incredible force but never escaped the barrel of the shotgun. The weapon exploded in Luke's hand, showering metal and shrapnel into his body. He collapsed to the floor, screaming and holding his face.

"Naughty," said Belsnickel, condemning Luke.

Belsnickel reached down to the howling mass of blood, flesh and metal that was Luke, grabbed him by the neck and, with supernatural force, threw him high into the stone chimney. The crack of bones was like a deep summer thunder. The shadow above the fireplace surrounded Luke's body and held him tight to the chimney.

"Speak, naughty boy. Confess your sins."

Luke's bloody face was contorted and one eye had metal shoved into the hollow bone. He tried to look up through his one good eye.

"Go to hell," said Luke.

"Precisely what I was thinking," said Belsnickel.

Belsnickel snapped his right wrist and his empty hand filled with the long, dangerous birch twigs. The tiny bells attached jingled with ominous cheer.

"Pray, naughty boy."

The birch twigs hit Luke's body with the force of a winter hail storm. He howled in fresh pain. Belsnickel grabbed the twigs with both hands, widened his stance and started thrashing back and forth. Zachary wanted Belsnickel to stop, to save his brother, but the dark force of his punishment was beyond anything he'd ever seen. The twigs started snapping off, leaving dangerous, sharp edges like wooden blades.

I wish I'd have never gone into that forest, thought Zachary. I wish, I wish, I … and then he remembered the bell.

The bell. Where was the bell? He'd shown it to the giant elves. He wore it in the cavern. He took it off … took it off … took it off when they got in the sleigh with Blixel and Snowball. Did I lose it? Did it fly out? Wait. My coat. My coat pocket !

Zachary crouched low and snuck behind Belsnickel to the clothes rack near the front doorway. He pulled the coat around and dug deep into the left pocket. Nothing. He tried the other pocket. Nothing. Wait. He felt the ribbon. As he yanked the bell from his coat, it rang out in a beautiful tone. Belsnickel spun around to face him.

"Don't, Zachary. This is fate," said Belsnickel.

"I wish …"

"Zachary, I'm here because you wanted me to be. You came to Druxi Forest. You were clear. Stop your brother."

"Stop him, not murder him."

Luke's flesh hung in clumps against his now shredded, blood-soaked clothes. Zachary looked at his brother trying to speak, but his words were only moans of horror.

"Let him down," said Zachary.

"I'm not finished."

"Let him down."

Luke's body crashed to the ground. The three shadows hovered above him for a moment then circled Belsnickel and flew out the windows. Luke started crawling on hands and knees toward the couch. Without turning, Belsnickel snapped the twigs on the back of the cushions.

"Lay low, naughty boy. The thirsty slugs are waiting."

Luke stopped crawling and curled up in a ball on the floor. Belsnickel turned and started towards him.

"I wish …"

"Stop it, Zachary! I must finish. It is tradition," said Belsnickel over his shoulder, still eyeing Luke.

"Tradition? To kill children?"

Spinning around to Zachary, Belsnickel said, "Only the ones with no chance of ever being nice. Only the truly naughty."

Without warning, Belsnickel reached up and slowly pulled back his hood. The darkness beneath faded and his full face appeared.

Owen Ruggers. Zachary's father.

Zachary gasped as he stumbled backwards, hitting the kitchen table. His mind reeled against the events of the past few days.

"Father? What … what's happening?"

"Belsnickel is very real, Zachary. Handed down through the ages in our family. To help make a better world. Better children. Please, let me finish this."

"Finish? You mean kill him?"

"If I don't, he will eventually kill you, Zachary. He's toxic."

"What? Why?"

"Because your mother died on Christmas Eve. Giving birth to you. Luke will never let it go until you are dead. I can't let that happen to you, my son. My nice, nice son."

The room glowed a hot blue-white as Owen snapped up his hood and covered his head. He was Belsnickel once more. He walked around the couch toward Luke. The cold winter wind whipped through the house again, smashing chairs to the floor and freezing everything it touched.

The three shadows reappeared and lifted Luke to the chimney, stretching his arms out like the crucified Christ. Belsnickel turned the birch twigs around like a sword. The deadly blades of wooden edges began stabbing into Luke. It was clear he was losing consciousness fast.

Zachary stepped away from the kitchen table, stumbled over the yule log and toppled to the floor. The yule log, yes, the yule log, Zachary thought. A weapon. He stood, picking up the big log, and without thinking, vaulted over the couch.

The yule log slammed down on Belsnickel's head and blood showered in a spectacular fan. Belsnickel fell to the floor screaming. The three death shadows dissolved and Luke crashed down next to his father. Zachary crawled forward, raising the yule log and smashing against his father's skull with ease. Screaming and smashing. Screaming and smashing. Blood, bone and brain matter mixed, flying into the air all over Zachary, but his rage would not let him stop. His father had damaged a part of his heart that was never going to heal. Now he knew—his family's 'tradition' was toxic. And nothing can fix that.

Exhausted, Zachary finally stopped his assault and threw himself back onto the couch. Luke, half blind, crawled toward him, over his father's mutilated body and up to the couch. He placed his hands on the cushions, leaving bloody prints. He looked so sad. So beaten.

"I'll see you in hell, bootlicker," choked Luke.

He drew one final breath and fell backwards on top of his father's dead body. As he exhaled, his arms and legs collapsed, leaving him sprawled and defeated, like a broken scarecrow left outside to rot in the rain.

Zachary stared at the mess before him. His whole body was shaking and he was frozen to the couch. A small ten-year-old boy with two mutilated bodies. Christmas. Tradition. Blood. Death. Now what? His mind couldn't think. He wanted this all to be gone. If only he could …

… wish it away.

The bell. He had one wish. Struggling, he hauled himself over the back of the couch to the kitchen table. The bell wasn't there. Where had it gone? He moved the fruits, the nuts, the pine swags. Nothing. He got on the floor and scoured the area below the kitchen table. Nothing.

He crossed back to the couch, pulling off one cushion then another, reaching past Luke's dead body. There. He heard it. A muted ring. He threw more cushions to the floor, shoved Luke aside and dug deeper. Success. He pulled out the bell on the emerald green rope.

Zachary stood up, put the bell around his neck and closed his eyes.

"I wish I was gone from here," he said aloud.

The freezing winter wind appeared once more and encircled Zachary. He quickly opened his eyes.

Pitch blackness was all he saw. Then a tickling feel. Then weightlessness. Then flying fast through the air. His mind dissolved in backwards memories of Belsnickel, his brother, his father, his dead mother. The swirling pictures moved faster and faster as he flew through the empty abyss. Out of nowhere, his body slammed to a stop and the pictures evaporated. He was aware he couldn't move. With no more strength to fight the black darkness, he closed his eyes and just gave in. The feeling coming over his body was warm and inviting, like a blazing yule log on a holiday fire. Exhausted, Zachary rolled on his side and passed out.

Somewhere a bell tolled twelve. It was Christmas Eve.

#

DECEMBER 24

Zachary's eyes snapped opened. He scanned his environment.

A small underground cavern. Rock walls broken up by meandering tree roots. A warm crackling bonfire. Sitting logs. A bed of pine needles. A ripped-up quilt. The smell of mildew, wet moss, chalky dust. Across the way, a fur cloak floating in midair.

Zachary saw it all replay in his mind. He rolled onto his back, taking deep breaths. A piece of gravel from the dirt floor pierced his right shoulder.

Faster than lightning, a ball of beautiful grapefruit-pink and lime-green light rushed past his eyes. Right, left, right, left, landing on his nose. The light blinked and pulsed with excitement. It kept hopping up and down.

"I know, I know, Serinda," said Zachary to the light.

He sat up, then crouched to stand. He struggled a moment to remain upright, wobbly from the night before. He took in his surroundings a little more slowly. The dark cavern was exactly the same as before, except for one thing. Belsnickel had been replaced by a floating fur cloak. It was by the fireside, above a sitting log, as if warming itself.

Zachary walked toward the cloak with caution, stopping right in front of it. The cloak turned to face him. Serinda came buzzing along, then started bouncing and hitting Zachary, then the coat. Zachary, the coat, Zachary, the coat.

"Yes, yes. It's very exciting. And very frightening, Serinda."

Zachary stared at the fur cloak for a long time. The coat stared back. In silence, the two exchanged a world of visions. Serinda sat quietly waiting on Zachary's left shoulder.

Suddenly, Zachary's right arm shot out and grabbed the coat, flung it behind him in a wave of fur and slipped his arms into the sleeves. Serinda buzzed and blinked around him in fast circles as the coat wrapped, shrunk and fit itself to Zachary's ten-year-old body. Zachary's head flung back as the hood enveloped him, curling in to fit snugly. He could barely feel the weight of the antlers attached to the hood. His hands poked out from the cuffs and he knew the divine ceremony had finished. He turned toward the fire as Serinda settled once more on his shoulder. Looking into the flames, he snapped his right wrist. The birch twigs with red ribbons and tiny bells appeared. He hesitated at the fireside. Serinda, aware of his feelings, ever so lightly landed on Zachary's nose. She turned a mesmerizing rainbow of colors. Zachary put out his finger and Serinda moved to it.

"Let's go, Serinda. We have a lotta work to do."

The fur cloak spun into the air as Zachary crossed the dirt floor and opened the jeweled door in the cavern wall. He stepped inside the room of ice and Serinda flew like the wind to join him.

"Hang on, Serinda. The West Wind is a gusty ol' fellow. Very powerful."

And then they were gone.

THE END

Bio: Scott A. Cook is Artistic Producer of the professional musical theatre company, TheatreWorks Florida. The critically acclaimed company has won numerous awards from the National Endowment for the Arts and Broadway World. At 56 years old, he has created over 180 stories for the stage.
www.theatreworksfl.org .
After years of working in theatre, Scott is now following his dream of writing. Transitioning from stage to page seems a natural progression; a stage director pays immense attention to detail, just as an author does of any well written story.
Scott writes dark horror fiction. Favorite authors include Stephen King, Clive Barker and H.P. Lovecraft.

E-mail: Scott Cook

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