God Rest Ye & Merry Gentlemen

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The holidays are coming and midwinter’s getting bleak. We all need a little comfort and joy, comfort and joy to get us through the dying year. So here it is, this thing called Christmas; a great, sticky web of tinsel to tickle us to sleep and keep us warm.

But Christmas is cold. Christmas is unforgiving. Christmas has a dark side. Anti-Santas stalk naughty children, gift-wrapped nastiness lurks under trees, forgotten people find their own twisted ways to celebrate and commiserate.

Two macabre flash fiction collections of a different yuletide. Vengeful spruce, hypnotic carollers, one angry innkeeper, and a partridge no longer in its pear tree. These are the whispers in Santa’s nightmares. This is Silent Night played backwards, the black hole of Bethlehem. Manger danger. Christmas with a capital X.

And a box. A box wrapped in shiny paper with a bow on top. An empty box. Come, ye faithful, and put your heads inside.

And be good. Be good, for goodness' sake...

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