Intermission: Christmas, part 3.

December 22, 2009. 5:14 pm.
Sam wondered how long he had been wandering. He knew vaguely how much time he had left. He had been feeling like something was crushing not only his heart, but the entire world since the first of December. It was slow, awkward feeling at first. Like the flutters one’s heart feels when worried or stressed. Now, though, it was the encroaching fingers of doom wrapping around his heart, black and slimy. But it wasn’t quite closed, not yet. This gave him hope. He had been walking for a long time, he knew that. He also knew he was close to the end. Sam had been through this particular maze at least five times in the past. There were few variations.

Sam emerged from the maze, breathing out a thin fog. He was tired, this time. Father had warned about that. Christmas took a lot out of his family, it seemed. Looking around, Sam saw the various creatures and things that inhabited the winter castle. Things that were almost people. Almost people, save the thin coating of ice over their skin. Or poison barbs extending from their arms, or ears, or fingers. The variations of these almost-people were many. His father had called them goblins. Apparently grandfather used a similar word to Sam. These big ones were, according to grandfather “fae”, the smaller ones were any number of things. Sam thought the spelling was a little silly.

He had to wonder, every year, as he bought his son books, and toys, and games, just how people came to know of these secretive beasts, integrated as they were into fiction. With any hope, they would stay there. Sam realized he had been standing and thinking for too long. He sighed, looking to his left. A giant wolf with three red eyes was staring at him from a few feet away. Sam twitched his wrist, the bells on his glove letting out a loud, pure note. The monster growled softly, turned, and ran. In fact, the sound had cleared a path for quite a ways around him. As a downside, everything in the fey market, from elf to goblin to slithering things that didn’t quite have eyes were now staring at him. A small red thing with tattered wings flapped over to him, holding a small pouch. It grinned and adjusted its spectacles.