The Twelve Days of Christmas (iii)
Day One - Day Two
Dramatis Personae… Vesper (the protagonist), Vasuman (a two-faced werewolf), Two Turtle Doves (god’s wrath), Leviathan (a Nazi Corporal and arch-demon of Hell), Azazel (a Nazi soldier and demon of Hell), George Bush (a test-subject & disposable plot device), Three French Hens (self-doubt), A Christmas Tree (Hell (love gone wrong)), 1390 Tattoos (mental scarring), A Gift (sweet release), An Apocalypse (an apocalypse).
Day Three
367th Branch
Ting!
“So where’d you get all your tattoos?” asked Vasuman.
“I’m not entirely sure,” said Vesper.
Vesper lay underneath Vasuman. He hadn’t made it far before Vasuman, as a wolf, had caught up with him and wrestled him to the ground. The wolf had bitten a large chunk out of his shoulder before (thankfully) taking human form again. Now they lay, locked in a mutual hold, across the bark of the branch. Each held the other’s hands fast and Vasuman had a grin on his face. He was waiting until he transformed again. Vesper’s time was running out.
“Interesting. They all look the same – all the shape of the alpha and the omega.”
Vesper was carefully manoeuvring his foot towards a knot in the bark. If he could get purchase on that, maybe he could lever his weight and throw Vasuman off him. It wasn’t a very good plan, but it was his only one. Best to keep the werewolf talking.
“Yes. I don’t know how they got on me, but I seem to get a new one every year.”
“Really? You have one thousand, three hundred and ninety of them.”
“That’s very good, you’re right.”
“I’m pretty decent at picking up details. You’ve been here that many years, eh?”
“I suppose so. I don’t remember much from one year to the next, but I do get a new tattoo each year. They probably brand me in the night to remind me how long I’ve been here.”
“Sounds like the sort of thing we’d do.”
Vesper, still edging his foot closer to the knot-hole, looked beyond Vasuman and into the branches above. There seemed to be a dim, red glow high up in the tree, as though the whole thing was on fire.
“There is something going on above us.”
“Ah, see there, making me turn around won’t help you. I have great tangential vision, so as I turn my head be warned - I can still see you. Just as I can see your foot heading for the kink in the bark.”
Vesper cursed silently.
“That’s fine, Vasuman. It just looks like fire.”
“Right. That’d be the start of it. They’d have released the Doves yesterday.”
“Doves?”
“The wrath of god. This is an apocalypse, right? You did know that?”
“Uhh, no.”
“Well, you are about to be dismembered – by myself – fairly soon, so don’t worry about it.”
“Actually, I’m going to Heaven.”
Vasuman laughed.
“Well, you’d better make it by Twelfth Night. They’ve started releasing the various creatures of Armageddon. This whole tree will be a burning nightmare in nine day’s time.”
“But why? Why is everything ending this year?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that I have to stop you from leaving Hell. That’s my job.”
“But if you’re going to die – if we’re all going to die - then why not just let me go?”
“Can’t do that, sunshine. Apocalypse or not, you’re not leaving.”
Huge, burning twigs fell through the air, crashing through the branches. Vasuman cocked his head to one side as a flaming pine needle whistled past them, then looked back to Vesper.
“Shouldn’t be long now. Your shoulder tasted good, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
There was a huge flurry of white feathers in the branches above and Vesper saw what looked like two giant birds fighting in the confined space. They were lit up by what must have been fire around them. They were falling through the tree towards him.
“The Doves are coming this way.”
“I saw.”
The air started to reek of sulphur and what looked like molten lava hit the branch a few feet above Vesper’s head.
“Shouldn’t we go?”
“Nope.”
The tree started to shake around them and a falling feather clouted Vasuman on the back. Vesper struggled, but the werewolf held him firm. The birds were not far from them now and a strong wind whipped up. A high-pitched, discordant squealing started to rise in volume, hurting Vesper’s ears.
“I really think we should go.”
Vasuman was shaking and hairs were growing from his face. A leer cracked across his maw. The Doves were now whirling dervishes of monstrous proportion, blurred in the haze of heat surrounding them. Branches sprouted flame wherever they touched, a pillar of fire boring through the tree as they fell. Their squealing intensified and Vesper felt blood trickling from his ears. Vasuman was a wolf now, lunging at his jugular, and he felt its teeth clamp shut around his neck while he blacked out.
And then his sight came back to him: Vasuman was gone. The Doves were gone. Everything around him was on fire. He put a hand to his bleeding neck and looked cautiously over the side of the branch. The Doves were still falling towards the bottom of the tree. Vasuman, on fire and howling, was entwined in their struggling mass. The wind and squeals died as they fell away - all that was left was the roaring inferno surrounding Vesper. He clutched his wounded shoulder and ran for the trunk.
Day Three
Branch 217
“Release the Hens!”
Corporal Leviathan, a large humanoid with the head of an alligator, barked the order at the top of his voice – which was very loud indeed. He stood, along with Private Azazel, in a small observation room facing a bank of controls and a large glass window. The window looked into a dirty, straw-littered cell.
“Yessah!” barked Azazel.
Azazel lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth and shouted again.
“Reeeeeelease the Hens!”
A small door opened in one of the walls of the dirty room. Nothing happened for a while.
“Sir?” said Azazel.
“Cease your foul whining, maggot!”
“Yessah!”
A small hen poked its head out of the door and into the dirty room. It looked around nonchalantly, head bobbing up and down. It entered the room and started scratching around the floor. Another two hens followed it, pecking the dirt intermittently.
“The hens have entered the holding pen, sah!”
“Very well. Acquire the test subject!”
“Yessah!”
Azazel ran out of the observation chamber. He returned with a wretched, confused-looking man dressed in rags. The man spotted the hens and immediately looked petrified. Azazel held him steady.
“Insert your ear-plugs, Private!”
“Yessah!”
Azazel, holding the man with one hand, reached into his pocket and fished out some ear-plugs. He put them in his ears.
“Don’t you even think about removing them, you snivelling freak! Escort the test subject into the holding pen!”
“Yessah!”
Azazel left with the man. Moments later, Leviathan’s beady eyes watched as another door opened in the dirty room. Azazel and the man entered. The hens seemed not to notice. Leviathan reached forward and pressed an intercom button. He screamed into a microphone,
“Now get the hell out of there man!”
Azazel seemed to shout something, but it could not be heard in the observation chamber. He turned and ran through the door, closing it behind him and leaving the man cowering in a corner of the room. Azazel entered the observation chamber, removing his ear-plugs.
“Test subject has entered the holding pen, sah!”
“Excellent work. OBSERVE!”
They both stared into the dirty room. The hens bobbed and scratched in the dirt, but one was now looking at the man. Terror was splayed across his face. He was saying something to the hen.
“Shall I release the gift, sir?”
“Not yet, you fool!”
Tears were streaming down the man’s face, his body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. All three hens had surrounded him, bobbing their heads inquisitively. He started to thump his head violently against the wall.
“RELEASE THE GIFT!”
“Yessah!” Then into the walkie-talkie, “release the gift!”
A small box dropped from a hole in the ceiling, covered in shiny wrapping paper and tied with a bow. The man dove for it, and feverishly unwrapped it to find a gun. A look of demented excitement plastered on his face, he pointed the gun at his temple with a quivering hand. He seemed to say some final words to the hens before blowing his head off.
“Test subject has fired the gun into his brains, sah!”
Leviathan laughed, coarsely. He shot a beady glance at Azazel.
"Merry Christmas, eh?"
"A very Merry Christmas indeed, sah!"
Leviathan swiped at the walkie-talkie in Azazel’s hand.
“Give me that, runt!” Then into the walkie-talkie, “Open the bay doors!”
Yet another door opened in the wall of the dirty room. Outside was a branch. The hens gradually meandered out and into the tree. Leviathan spoke into the walkie-talkie again.
“We have a dead test subject and successful deployment of three French Hens! Evacuate branches 215 through 220!”
He turned to Azazel.
“Let’s move, you putrid sack of malefaction!”
They marched out of the observation chamber at double-time.
Dramatis Personae… Vesper (the protagonist), Vasuman (a two-faced werewolf), Two Turtle Doves (god’s wrath), Leviathan (a Nazi Corporal and arch-demon of Hell), Azazel (a Nazi soldier and demon of Hell), George Bush (a test-subject & disposable plot device), Three French Hens (self-doubt), A Christmas Tree (Hell (love gone wrong)), 1390 Tattoos (mental scarring), A Gift (sweet release), An Apocalypse (an apocalypse).
Day Three
367th Branch
Ting!
“So where’d you get all your tattoos?” asked Vasuman.
“I’m not entirely sure,” said Vesper.
Vesper lay underneath Vasuman. He hadn’t made it far before Vasuman, as a wolf, had caught up with him and wrestled him to the ground. The wolf had bitten a large chunk out of his shoulder before (thankfully) taking human form again. Now they lay, locked in a mutual hold, across the bark of the branch. Each held the other’s hands fast and Vasuman had a grin on his face. He was waiting until he transformed again. Vesper’s time was running out.
“Interesting. They all look the same – all the shape of the alpha and the omega.”
Vesper was carefully manoeuvring his foot towards a knot in the bark. If he could get purchase on that, maybe he could lever his weight and throw Vasuman off him. It wasn’t a very good plan, but it was his only one. Best to keep the werewolf talking.
“Yes. I don’t know how they got on me, but I seem to get a new one every year.”
“Really? You have one thousand, three hundred and ninety of them.”
“That’s very good, you’re right.”
“I’m pretty decent at picking up details. You’ve been here that many years, eh?”
“I suppose so. I don’t remember much from one year to the next, but I do get a new tattoo each year. They probably brand me in the night to remind me how long I’ve been here.”
“Sounds like the sort of thing we’d do.”
Vesper, still edging his foot closer to the knot-hole, looked beyond Vasuman and into the branches above. There seemed to be a dim, red glow high up in the tree, as though the whole thing was on fire.
“There is something going on above us.”
“Ah, see there, making me turn around won’t help you. I have great tangential vision, so as I turn my head be warned - I can still see you. Just as I can see your foot heading for the kink in the bark.”
Vesper cursed silently.
“That’s fine, Vasuman. It just looks like fire.”
“Right. That’d be the start of it. They’d have released the Doves yesterday.”
“Doves?”
“The wrath of god. This is an apocalypse, right? You did know that?”
“Uhh, no.”
“Well, you are about to be dismembered – by myself – fairly soon, so don’t worry about it.”
“Actually, I’m going to Heaven.”
Vasuman laughed.
“Well, you’d better make it by Twelfth Night. They’ve started releasing the various creatures of Armageddon. This whole tree will be a burning nightmare in nine day’s time.”
“But why? Why is everything ending this year?”
“I’m not sure. All I know is that I have to stop you from leaving Hell. That’s my job.”
“But if you’re going to die – if we’re all going to die - then why not just let me go?”
“Can’t do that, sunshine. Apocalypse or not, you’re not leaving.”
Huge, burning twigs fell through the air, crashing through the branches. Vasuman cocked his head to one side as a flaming pine needle whistled past them, then looked back to Vesper.
“Shouldn’t be long now. Your shoulder tasted good, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
There was a huge flurry of white feathers in the branches above and Vesper saw what looked like two giant birds fighting in the confined space. They were lit up by what must have been fire around them. They were falling through the tree towards him.
“The Doves are coming this way.”
“I saw.”
The air started to reek of sulphur and what looked like molten lava hit the branch a few feet above Vesper’s head.
“Shouldn’t we go?”
“Nope.”
The tree started to shake around them and a falling feather clouted Vasuman on the back. Vesper struggled, but the werewolf held him firm. The birds were not far from them now and a strong wind whipped up. A high-pitched, discordant squealing started to rise in volume, hurting Vesper’s ears.
“I really think we should go.”
Vasuman was shaking and hairs were growing from his face. A leer cracked across his maw. The Doves were now whirling dervishes of monstrous proportion, blurred in the haze of heat surrounding them. Branches sprouted flame wherever they touched, a pillar of fire boring through the tree as they fell. Their squealing intensified and Vesper felt blood trickling from his ears. Vasuman was a wolf now, lunging at his jugular, and he felt its teeth clamp shut around his neck while he blacked out.
And then his sight came back to him: Vasuman was gone. The Doves were gone. Everything around him was on fire. He put a hand to his bleeding neck and looked cautiously over the side of the branch. The Doves were still falling towards the bottom of the tree. Vasuman, on fire and howling, was entwined in their struggling mass. The wind and squeals died as they fell away - all that was left was the roaring inferno surrounding Vesper. He clutched his wounded shoulder and ran for the trunk.
Day Three
Branch 217
“Release the Hens!”
Corporal Leviathan, a large humanoid with the head of an alligator, barked the order at the top of his voice – which was very loud indeed. He stood, along with Private Azazel, in a small observation room facing a bank of controls and a large glass window. The window looked into a dirty, straw-littered cell.
“Yessah!” barked Azazel.
Azazel lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth and shouted again.
“Reeeeeelease the Hens!”
A small door opened in one of the walls of the dirty room. Nothing happened for a while.
“Sir?” said Azazel.
“Cease your foul whining, maggot!”
“Yessah!”
A small hen poked its head out of the door and into the dirty room. It looked around nonchalantly, head bobbing up and down. It entered the room and started scratching around the floor. Another two hens followed it, pecking the dirt intermittently.
“The hens have entered the holding pen, sah!”
“Very well. Acquire the test subject!”
“Yessah!”
Azazel ran out of the observation chamber. He returned with a wretched, confused-looking man dressed in rags. The man spotted the hens and immediately looked petrified. Azazel held him steady.
“Insert your ear-plugs, Private!”
“Yessah!”
Azazel, holding the man with one hand, reached into his pocket and fished out some ear-plugs. He put them in his ears.
“Don’t you even think about removing them, you snivelling freak! Escort the test subject into the holding pen!”
“Yessah!”
Azazel left with the man. Moments later, Leviathan’s beady eyes watched as another door opened in the dirty room. Azazel and the man entered. The hens seemed not to notice. Leviathan reached forward and pressed an intercom button. He screamed into a microphone,
“Now get the hell out of there man!”
Azazel seemed to shout something, but it could not be heard in the observation chamber. He turned and ran through the door, closing it behind him and leaving the man cowering in a corner of the room. Azazel entered the observation chamber, removing his ear-plugs.
“Test subject has entered the holding pen, sah!”
“Excellent work. OBSERVE!”
They both stared into the dirty room. The hens bobbed and scratched in the dirt, but one was now looking at the man. Terror was splayed across his face. He was saying something to the hen.
“Shall I release the gift, sir?”
“Not yet, you fool!”
Tears were streaming down the man’s face, his body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. All three hens had surrounded him, bobbing their heads inquisitively. He started to thump his head violently against the wall.
“RELEASE THE GIFT!”
“Yessah!” Then into the walkie-talkie, “release the gift!”
A small box dropped from a hole in the ceiling, covered in shiny wrapping paper and tied with a bow. The man dove for it, and feverishly unwrapped it to find a gun. A look of demented excitement plastered on his face, he pointed the gun at his temple with a quivering hand. He seemed to say some final words to the hens before blowing his head off.
“Test subject has fired the gun into his brains, sah!”
Leviathan laughed, coarsely. He shot a beady glance at Azazel.
"Merry Christmas, eh?"
"A very Merry Christmas indeed, sah!"
Leviathan swiped at the walkie-talkie in Azazel’s hand.
“Give me that, runt!” Then into the walkie-talkie, “Open the bay doors!”
Yet another door opened in the wall of the dirty room. Outside was a branch. The hens gradually meandered out and into the tree. Leviathan spoke into the walkie-talkie again.
“We have a dead test subject and successful deployment of three French Hens! Evacuate branches 215 through 220!”
He turned to Azazel.
“Let’s move, you putrid sack of malefaction!”
They marched out of the observation chamber at double-time.
posted by Juliet is Bleeding... | 4:46 pm
this is fantastic.
I TOLD YOU JIB.
Thanks, that was warming. Though whether I'll have the patience to finish this, I have no idea. Current track record for finishing stories? Zero complete.
finish it.