|The White Christmas Term|
|Posted By: poena.dare||Date: 12/24/10 11:42 p.m.|
In Response To: Re: Merry Christmas *LINK* (Forrest of B.org)
UNSCTerm 802.11 (remote override) 2047 08.30.2337
[Data Transfer from Clausana]
The reindeer had been floating seven feet off the floor for 12 days. Her hooves tingled, and her eyes burned with the flames of a dying fire. She had last heard someone speak to her as the barn door slammed shut. She didn't remember what the fat man in red had said. The words had bounced off the walls of the barn and rang through the reindeer's ears. The reindeer had been talking to herself for the last few minutes, something about a partridge, but then her ears began to tingle just like her hooves.
She looked at her hooves, but the fire in her eyes made her blink. Tears came, and when she opened her eyes again, her hooves had been melted into horny pancakes that wafted in the ripples flowing over the fire in her eyes.
"Damn barn," she heard someone say. "Last time I had a good meal was three days ago. The food they feed you in here could kill an elf."
Elves. She had remembered something about elves. But her ears began to ring again and the voice speaking to her faded off into the background of her mind. In its place, there was a new sound, the clopping of hooves together. She blinked hard to made out her hooves again. They had disappeared; her limbs connected at the shanks.
She thought back to the time she was pawing the tundra. She remembered the sound of her hooves on the earth, a gentle scrapping. Scrapping away now inside her ears, trying to tear down her thoughts. There had been a reindeer with a red nose. Her antlers were like his now. The antlers of someone who had tried too many times to leap into the sky. She had been pulling a sled for everyone else in life, but never for herself. Two turtle doves, like herself, had been put into prison, and she didn't know why.
"Can't sleep in here, if the smell of this musty straw doesn't make you sick, then the sound of the elves creeping inside the walls will keep you up. You'll wake up from your dreams to their little giggling. Sometimes I think that they are giggling at me..." The voice was coming from inside the barn, but the reindeer couldn't see anyone.
The reindeer hadn't always been alone, she could vaguely recall from somewhere inside her broken mind that there had been five golden rings, seven swimming swans, a fat man.
She recalled a theory she had come up with after one Christmas haul. The theory was simple. At some point in time, everyone was Santa. Whether or not they ever felt jolly, they had all wanted milk and cookies. Chimneys. Everyone hatred tiny chimneys. The reindeer had seen too many inadequate chimneys. The fat man had laughed at shoddy roof-work, a laugh which now echoed through her ears, rhythmically blocking out the other voice in the barn.
The barn was usually a place where the reindeer and her friends would play, but today, there was an edge. Maybe everyone had drunk too much eggnog, or maybe there was too much smoke in the air from the toy factory. Reindeer games had been extremely rough. The one with the red nose got tackled by six pregnant geese. But today, even flying had an evil twist. The clouds stormed ice and made fun of the sun. The reindeer had decided that it was an evil day. When the fat man started to push her around, she exploded. Hatred flowed from her eyes, her hooves began to tingle. All of her coordination left her, and her antlers cracked, broken, and a bloody mess. The fat man had been slow to notice the ensuing carnage, and he didn't really care anyway.
The reindeer would have killed him if she could have. She would have torn out the eyes of the fat man. She would have made him pay for his abuses. But her hooves had begun to tingle. She couldn't feel her hooves and she had begun to float off the ground. Everyone was Santa, but the reindeer couldn't remember her reason for why that was so. She thought it was something about hooves, the passion for justice. Her hooves and feet had begun to tingle, and she was floating farther off the floor. She looked up from her hooves, and she saw the doors of the barn, moving left and right, opening wide and then closing shut. Every time that she thought she would be safe, the hinges creaked, the opening closing, the doors swinging, crashing. The result would be the same, she would never escape. The doors would crush her, break her back.
She could feel the roughness of the straw under her hooves, for all the motion of the barn door around her, her hooves had come to rest serenely upon the barn floor. Her body tossed and flipped, pivoting about her hooves under which she could feel the safe, coarse straw. The doors crashed one final time, she landed upside down, her hooves thrown clear from the straw covered bottom, the rush of the windmill filling her ears, her nose, her mouth, the sound of crashing barn doors cascading down from her feet to her head - penetrating her mind to tear down thoughts. Like the straw nest she had built to withstand the cold, her thoughts came down around her.
The reindeer had a good life, so much time, so much time. She had loved hauling, flying, jingling. She had loved the tingle in her hooves, her inability to kill the fat man. Once she had fallen off the hay loft, and just for a moment, her hooves came to rest on the rung of the ladder. In that instant, her body had frozen, floating over the barn floor, safe from falling, but the moment didn't last. The barn crashed about her, her hooves torn free from the straw covered bottom, her body flipping, falling.
But now she levitated farther up, her hooves still tingling. She began to float through the roof, she expected the instant of safety as her hooves found footing, but that moment did not come, the shingles squeezed her body. Her chest tingled. As she rose through the roof, her legs tingled. The fire in her eyes had become a cold wind, she blinked away tears. She tumbled through the roof, spinning and turning, she could see the fat man. In his hand she saw a small elf. A pounding, the crashing barn doors in her ears became rhythmical, hard. The fat man was beating the elf against the floor. Pounding, pounding. Blood covered her hooves, the reindeer's hooves tingled. She had broken them on the floor of the barn. Lord, leaper, lady, dancer. The reindeer looked back into the barn. She saw herself, piper, piping, drummer, drumming. She had killed the french hens. The twelve days of Christmas lay dead under her bloody hooves. At last, she stood on the throat of her tormentor.
She leapt into the clouds.
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|Merry Christmas *LINK*||Godot||12/24/10 4:05 a.m.|
|Re: Merry Christmas||Bob-B-Q||12/24/10 4:33 a.m.|
|Re: Merry Christmas||Destiny||12/24/10 5:56 a.m.|
|It's even more Merry with "Godot" here! *NM*||Tycho||12/24/10 8:48 p.m.|
|Re: Merry Christmas *LINK*||Forrest of B.org||12/24/10 9:01 p.m.|
|The White Christmas Term||poena.dare||12/24/10 11:42 p.m.|
|Re: Merry Christmas *LINK*||Godot||12/26/10 2:56 a.m.|
|Re: Merry Christmas||AlfredMordeir||1/4/11 7:56 p.m.|
|Re: Merry Christmas||Bob-B-Q||1/5/11 5:39 a.m.|
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