Right. One clearly crazy morning one clearly crazy writer suggested one clearly crazy idea to me, after I whined about the fact that both FERRET and SIREN story frenzies were over. How about, he said, we do a chain story? And, voila! After a stream of tweets, 10 authors jumped on the idea and produced a story your grandma wouldn't believe. This is Santa Claus like you've never seen before, interacting with a special breed of a zombie - a ZOMBIE SIREN (of course, I had to pick a siren, cause I'm writing a novel about one). Anyway, without further adieu, let me introduce our first star.
Please welcome our 1st author, Sheila Hudnall (aka @Sheila_DFT) who is intent on reeking havoc upon the masses. Otherwise, she bides her time writing reviews for the devilishly clever Dark Faerie Tales website. Beware fair readers of her presence on Twitter, lest she attack you with her dry humor and random bouts of lyrics.
Photo by GIANNI
BLOODY SANTA vs ZOMBIE SIREN. Chapter 1 by Sheila Hudnall.
He sat alone, a self-appointed king surveying his kingdom. Wind-swept dunes of iridescent crystalline snow reflecting the pale illumination of the heavy Moon sagging in a velvet blanket of sparkling nothingness. Raising the glass to his lips, Santa found the view lacking. When the hell had life gotten so damn boring? His past was legendary, his prowess spoken of with reverence, his cruelty whispered in hushed tones. No one dared stand against him. Well, not anymore. And he was starting to hate every peaceful moment it brought.
God, he needed to get laid.
Bed sport was always a good distraction from the ennui that threatens to dull the sharp blade of his mind and body. Considering which elven wench, or three, to take to his bed was interrupted by a faint commotion in the hall outside his chambers. Wondering what the hell went wrong this time, Santa rose from his perch on the balcony and headed out toward the sound, intent on someone paying for the offense.
It doesn’t pay to get on Santa’s bad side.
Corridor after corridor, lined with the spoils of victories past, flitted by as he followed the echoes of arguing and the rustling of boots. Finding his prey holed up within the concave of the East Wing’s Great Hall, his presence seemed to drain the sound from the cavernous room. Every set of eyes were upon him, all movement stopped as if suddenly sensing the danger they all were suddenly in. His upper lip curved slightly upward, causing one of the elves to noticeably flinch. Bingo. Honing in, Santa dragged the now cowering elf up by the front of his uniform and lifted him effortlessly to his eye level.
“Speak.”
A pungent odor wafted toward Santa that made him grimace. The elf had pissed himself. Fantastic. Giving the little man a shake, Santa was quickly getting bored with waiting for a response. The elf’s air was suddenly released from the prison of his lungs and came out stuttering and spewing.
“M-m-my Lord.”
Santa issued a growl in acknowledgement, hoping that an answer was going to come out next or he was going to slice the waste of space up and feed the pieces to his prized reindeer.
“There has b-b-been a b-breach in the defenses close to Kaffeklubben Island.”
Okay, he had had enough. Snapping the man’s neck with a quick flick of his hands, Santa then threw the useless corpse at the rest of the gawkers standing about in frozen terror. Why he didn’t kill the lot of them was beyond comprehension sometimes. Their obvious ineptitude graded on him at every turn.
The lands near Kaffeklubben Island were not THAT hard to defend, he thought. Who the hell would sign their own death warrant encroaching on his frozen lands, for that matter? The stir of heat within his blood answered him. Go and kill. Kill it. Kill them all. Yes, it was time for a little reminder that Santa was Alpha here. Besides, he could use the exercise.
Time to go to work.
P.S.: This is 1st Chapter of BLOODY SANTA vs ZOMBIE SIREN. 2nd Chapter will be published tomorrow. And so, every day, you will be astounded to find a new Chapter published. Hold on to your breeches. Right.