This is just a little story I suddenly had the urge to sit down and write last night. Strangely enough I was listening to this song and images of a dark and bloody nature just seemed to fill my head in a small story that just screamed at me to be told. Just think of it as my little present to those of you who love my stories (that's right, both of you!). As always questions/comments/rants/requests/ and marrige proposals may be sent to me at arcanloth@hotmail.com. In any case I hope you enjoy.
Silent Night: A Christmas Tale of Detroit
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
On a certain night, on a certain street, a
woman runs for her life. Her long brown hair swirls and tangles
in the gusty night wind. Her breath steams and clouds around her
face as she breathes in the painfully chill air. Her face is
streamed with tears of fear, her cheeks flushed with the cold and
the exertion. She knows that Boss Wallace will not forgive her
transgression, she knows that even now a killer has been
contacted and told to end her.
She leaps and bounds up the dark and rusting stairway to her
apartment. Her landlord lets out a surprised squawk as she
charges past him. She had been an accountant for The Syndicate,
it had been her job to funnel and clean the river of money
flowing into Boss Wallace's pocket. Such a huge river! Who would
have thought he would notice a small sum disappearing this month.
Round yon virgin, mother and child
Holy infant so tender and mild
She bursts into her residence. Without pausing
she rushes to the room that holds her son. She smiles in quiet
surprise that he is still sleeping, a fuzzy green elf hat
clutched in his hands. She opts to let him continue resting while
she hurls clothes and other items into a suitcase. She can hear
the sounds of the street below, the spattering snow, and the
radio back in the living room. Jingle Bells plays in the
background as she finishes packing.
Boss Wallace had noticed the missing money, and he had started to
hunt for the person doing it. She had known it had been a
dangerous gambit, but she needed the money for her son, had
needed to let his Christmas dreams come true. It had been such a
small amount! Such a small trickle from the river. But to Wallace
it was a slap to the face, he had found out, she had run. Now she
would never be able to set foot in Detroit ever again, her son
would never see his childhood friends again. She sobbed, this was
not the Christmas she had envisioned.
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace
The suitcase clicked shut, she looked up at the
shining Christmas tree and it's sparkling lights. At the gleaming
gifts her embezzlement had bought for her son. All would be lost,
nothing had been gained. The theft had been totally pointless,
she had been found out. She quickly began to pack a bag for her
slumbering child. She hurriedly slapped the clothes into the
smaller suitcase. She would borrow her neighbor's car, she would
take the back roads. They'd never find her! Why would they be
watching the back roads for her?
She finished packing, she snapped the second case closed.
Grabbing both bags she rushed back to her son, a gentle brushing
of his golden blonde hair awakened him. He smiled, she told him
they had to go. He seemed worried at her fear, but was a good boy
and quickly hopped up to follow her. With her hand clutched in
his, and the other holding the hat. She rushes him to the door,
and then over to the neighbor's.
Silent night, holy night
Shepherds wait, out of sight
A quick and hurried story about her sister in
Montreal gets her the keys and a sympathetic nod. She rushes down
the stairs, her son gamely hopping along with her. The landlord
tries to talk with her as she charges past, he seems concerned.
But she has no time for that, no time at all. She dashes back out
into the bitterly cold night, her son slipping on the snowy
ground. She keeps a firm grip on his hand as she rushes to the
parking garage across the street.
Unseen in the shadows stands a figure. Flashing blue eyes watch
the pair dash through the slippery snow. Thick red lips grin, a
tongue is run along gleaming white teeth. Teeth....and fangs. The
smoldering blue eyes watch as the accountant hustles her son into
the car, sees them start it up and pull out onto the street. The
figure pulls it's motorcycle out of the alley and starts it up.
Soon both car and bike are roaring down the dark snowy lane.
Glory streams from heaven above
Heavenly hosts sing alleuah
Free! Free from the evil ways of The Syndicate!
It was said you never quit, you were only retired. But she had
done it, and would keep on doing it. She was skilled at changing
names and hiding facts. No one would be able to trace their
trail, nobody would suspect where they lived. She was safe, and
so was her son. She finally allowed herself to relax, letting the
exhaustion and fear of the night flow off her.
A headlight was suddenly turned on. She looked up into her
rearview mirror at the lone motorcycle that roared after her down
the street. Her eyes widened in pure terror, it was too late, it
was over. The dark shadow on the bike raised it's arm, a gleaming
.45 clutched in it's hand. The gun crack echoed through the empty
dark road, she could suddenly feel the loss of control as a tire
gave way. The car skidded and spun, her son howled in terror, She
reached over and hugged him tightly, trying to shield him with
her body. The car slammed into a snowy ditch and smashed to a
halt.
Christ the savior is born
Christ the savior is born
She wiped the blood off her face weakly, she
could feel the sobbing form of her son under her. She looked up
as her killer walked towards her. The figure had on blue sneakers
and tight black leggings. A blue jacket and blue gloves covered
the arms and shoulders. While a blue helmet and dark visor
obscured the face. She found that she was sobbing for mercy, both
for her and her son. She had thought she would have been braver.
The figure reached up and pulled off the helmet.
Shining blue eyes met hers, the woman under the helmet was young
and beautiful, hardly the type one expected to find in their
executioner. Her long blonde hair blew gently around her face as
she looked down at them. Her gleaming red lips twisted into a wry
smile as she raised her gun.
"Been good?"
She shook her head, the assassin grinned and fired. She dropped
to the ground. Her son looked up at the killer then down at his
mommy. He weakly shook her, fear in his eyes. The killer cocked
her gun again and pointed it at him. He looked up at her, tears
running down his face. She blinked, and then lowered her gun. She
reached down and pulled the elf hat from his numb hands, she
placed it gently across his head.
"Merry Christmas kid."
She turned and walked away, leaving the sobbing golden haired
child holding his dead mother's hand. The snow swirled around her
as she put back on her helmet and started her bike. As the roar
of her motorcycle moved far away the only sounds were the falling
of the snow, the rustling of the leaves, and the sobbing of
innocence lost.
Silent night, deadly night
All is dead, there is no right
Merry Christmas!