After Christmas
A woman in a rural town must try to save her husband from the ancient fading gods of the old world. Zombie reindeer and mutant elves are just some of the monsters she'll have to defeat along the way in this farcical sleigh ride to Santa's workshop.
After Christmas
The arctic wind was fierce and unforgiving as it sliced its way around the peak of Mt. St. Beyoncé, through Leslie Jolley’s thick bearskin coat, and down the steep slope into the narrow stone alleyways of Shatterpoint. She shivered hard and cursed the gods she was sure didn’t exist for the third time that day. She dragged the sack of trinkets she’d found next to the old temple of knowledge down the worn goat path to the city below.
The jagged rocks were slick with a thick layer of frost from the previous night’s storm and the thin freezing air threatened to steal her breath away at any moment. She made sure to place her leather boots carefully as she worked her way down and tucked her long midnight braid into her hood, she couldn’t imagine how Max would react if something bad happened to both of them on this mountain.
Leslie reached the bottom in no time and found herself almost jogging despite her fatigue. Max is going to be so excited. She thought to herself. All the digging, all the scraping, it will all be worth it just to see that goofy look on his face. She was making really good time as she wove in and out of the narrow stone corridors. She managed to clear the city and pass the edge of their ragged picket fence in a matter of minutes. The sack jingled and jangled behind her reminding her to take care with its contents as it slid over the sparse patches of grass and leaf litter. She paused for a second to hoist the heavy sack over her thin muscled shoulder when she caught sight of Shatterpoint on the hill behind her.
The sun was setting and had just fallen behind the peak of Mt. St. Beyoncé illuminating the stone paradise in a halo of golden light. She couldn’t believe how different the city looked now that construction of the aqueduct was complete. So much had changed thanks to Max’s brains and her brawn since she was a child chasing thunder rams in the foothills. Her arms ached from the memory of pushing those stone pillars into place, but she felt a rush of satisfaction looking at all that fresh water rushing into the town fountain.
Greenhouses dotted the countryside next to stately stone homes where drafty log cabins and empty fields had stood just a few years ago. The aqueduct was just the latest in a long line of accomplishments she could lay on Max’s shoulders. His wisdom had even allowed them to harness the sun’s energy and use it to heat their homes. Caravans from far and wide came to trade in the neat and ordered stone corridors of the city proper during the midwinter festival making it one of the richest cities in the area. In fact, Leslie couldn’t think of a single town with a taller tree or a better feast.
Leslie sighed as the sun dropped below the horizon and started walking home in a daze. As a child she had hated this place with a passion. Always trying to run away, always trying to lash out at her neighbors, it wasn’t until she started using her passion to improve her surroundings that she felt a true connection to this place. She had built Shatterpoint with her bare hands, one stone at a time. As she ran the last few yards to her modest log cabin, she couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she had a home all her own to run back to.
“Max, I’m home!” She yelled as she swung the door wide. The house smelled delicious; like cooked ham, mashed potatoes, and fresh baked bread. She dropped the sack in the dining room and skipped into the kitchen. “Max, the food smells delicious! Max? Max, where are you?”