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Halloween Knight (Novel Excerpt, 2,500 words, explicit language, mild sexual themes) (1 Viewer)

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KellInkston

Senior Member
Hey there, trying my hand at a different approach to YA fiction. I'm looking mostly for thoughts on story/flow, but any input would be appreciated. Thank you!

I
The moment he breaks into the house via a second-story window, there is a jolt under the checkered covers of the only bed in the room. He sneaks across the room and is almost to the knob when the sheets give way to a voice.
“Th-hell?” A young, black-haired lady by the name of Clara Stone mutters, rising up from the sheets with tired, present-lusting eyes and a sizable hot cocoa stain on her band t-shirt. The figure remains still, frozen like the star-white world outside. The girl squints at the figure for a moment, puts on her glasses, and then gasps in realization. “Who are you? What the hell are you doing in my room? Get out of here! Da-” the girl’s cut off by the figure exhaling sharply. He puts down his sack, turns around, and suddenly the room is illuminated with the dreamy lights of Christmas cheer and good will towards men.
With a breath scented of peppermint and chocolate, the German-looking boy speaks. “Season’s greetings, bitch!” His gaze is sharp, intense, and entirely cold in contrast to the warmth resounding from him.
“What?” Clara asks, shaking her head to assure she isn’t dreaming.
“You heard me, the hell did you think you were doing?”
You’re the one in my house, asshat. I just need to scream and my dad’ll come running- not that I couldn’t kick your ass myself.” She starts up and sits on her bed, ridging herself to be ready for a fight. The handsome boy laughs heartily, leaning over in glee.
“I wasn’t talking about that. I mean Richie Drives,” he says.
Clara gasps, face flushing a cheery holiday red, and exhales in disbelief.
“Wh-who told you?”
“Don’t you know who I am?” he asks with a smarmish nod.
“No!”
“Come on, jolly guy dressed in re-”
“You’re not even slightly jolly!”
“Shit, fine, sister. Whatever you want. I’m Santa.” He says, taking a step forward.
“Liar!” she reaches for the lamp to her side.
“Are you dumb?”
“No! Shut up!”
“Like, literally dumb?”
“Shut up!
“You think my old man’s just like a million years old?”
She looks at him, dumbfounded “…Huh?”
“That jolly dude you’re talking about is my old bag.” He says with a raised brow and a sarcastic nod, as if he were talking to an impatient child.
Clara leans in just a bit, “You mean… You’re Santa’s son?”
“Yeah- I’m the new Santa- if all the jolliness didn’t make it obvious,” he says as he motions with his gaze over to the warm lighting surrounding the room, like the glow of a Christmas tree.
Clara looks him over- she must admit that, on top of actually being quite jolly, he’s very good looking. “So, then… But why isn’t he here?”
“You think my dad doesn’t deserve retirement?”
“No, I mean… isn’t he magic?”
“Yeah?”
“So can’t he like, I dunno, live a really long time?”
“Duh, but that doesn’t mean he’s just going to work for no pay forever. It gets pretty damn boring running around putting down presents.” He crosses his arms and presents a single hand in explanation.
“Yeah?” She smirks.
“Well, yeah.”
“So now you’re gonna’ be doing the same thing as him for like, the next eighty years?”
“Nope!” He says as he strokes his blond stubble. Clara raises a brow.
“Mmm? N’why’s that?”
“Cuz I’m going to give toys only to the kids that deserve it.”

Clara’s confident smile persists, but she can feel that uncomfortable itch when one’s sweat glands activate.

“…That so?”
“Yes, so I’m here to deliver coal. Coal to every pathetic, self-entitled brat that thinks he or she deserves anything other than a smack on the bottom! Only good girls and boys will make the grade. All the others will be miserable with their coal, rebuking even the gift of a warm fire, and be forced to better themselves. So no, Clara. I’m not going to be like my dad- I’m going to fix his mistakes.
“O-oh… I see,” Clara says, looking at the sparking, vindictive eyes of the intruder. Her stance slowly changes as she knows this is her only hope, copying what she saw on movies Richie took her to. In her bed and on her knees, she turns to her side and curves her spine in such a way to accentuate her breast and extend her backside- apparently this is sexy in some part of the world, like Hollywood. “So, have I been a good girl this year?” she coos, her gaze filled with a spirit most Unchristmasy, something that we shouldn’t talk about in a short story like this- oh my word, no.
The grinning young man scoffs and pushes her away with his index finger.
“No. That’s why I’m here to abduct your gifts and exchange them for coal.”
Clara’s body begins trembling. The one day of the year in which she’s showered with gifts could come to naught. Her birthday, on the twenty-seventh, is grouped in by her dad. There’s no way in hell she’s going to let him take her new mypad.
“Ahh! I have? What a shame- o-oh, but I want my presents so badly. Isn’t there…” she moves closer, this time at the rim of the bed, all the way to breathe on him, “something I can do?”
The young Santa’s grin sharpens, her scent passing his nose. He leans in up to her ear, and whispers.
“Be a good girl next year.” He turns from her and with a jolly laugh opens her door and starts down the stairs. Clara is frozen, eyes wide in desperation. She has to do something. She’s certain she cannot survive without her new things: her new mypad, the $100 of mytunes gift cards, clothing, videogames, random but somehow-desirable things she spots in lonesome corners of stores. She cannot envision a future in which she could survive the lack of these things. Hearing the stairs creak with his weight, she makes up her mind- she’s dreaming of a red Christmas. She pulls her mypad of last-year’s make, now repulsive to her, and searches “killing Santa”. There are several results, but she hasn’t the time, and most of them have to do with a movie of the same title. She already hears him ruffling around the Christmas tree downstairs. She must think fast.
Clara grasps her vampire-hunting kit, another Christmas gift from her overbearing fathers four years ago when vampires were still cool. She is about to cover the stake in holy water, but she guesses just in time that it probably wouldn’t hurt something so Christmasy. She’ll have to cover the stake with something… anti-Christmas- but what could be anti-Christmas?! It’s such a deluded holiday, people from most all walks of life celebrate it in The States… but what if another holiday could counteract it?
“Halloween!” she says, hair standing on end, while she runs into her restroom, closes the door, and turns off the lights. “Bloody Mary Bloody Mary Bloody Mary!”
“…Child?” a sick, weak voice comes from the mirror as the room takes on a faint, crimson glow.
“There’s some Christmas spirit guy in my house, he’s going to take my presents away!”
“…You call upon me to protect your possessions?” the voice whispers with hesitance.
Clara nods furiously. “Please, it’s a new mypad flair!”
The dark voice hums. “So be it. I’ll send a man over,” the low, feminine voice says. With that, the hellish glow subsides, and out from the mirror a shrouded jack-o-lantern man with a scarecrow hat climbs out as xylophones and strange, unearthly instruments proclaim his arrival. Clara can see barely any of his body under his clothes, so she knows he must be mysterious, tough, or both.
“Yo, name’s Wick,” he says, rising to his height of six feet as he brushes off his long, shaggy jacket.
“H-hi! Help me kill this Christmas guy.”
Wick’s jack-o-lantern face squints a pumpkin-eye in surprise, and then shrugs. “Alright, let’s get’em,” Wick says, his glowing eyes staring to her bedroom door. The two creep down the stairs, entering the cheery, fireplace-like light produced by Santa’s son. He’s down by the tree, humming a popular yuletide tune.
“Alright, kick his ass!” Clara says to the tall, imposing crow-man next to her.
Wick leaps up from the side of the stairs and raises his hands, charging with spooky, skeletal magic. “I’d heard Santa’s bit the scythe, heard you Christmas folk were pretty shook up with it. Never thought his son would go ‘round stealing presents though.”
The young man takes a stand, proud and unafraid of Wick. “Yeah? Well I thought a ‘change in managerial policy’ was in order. I always believed in my old man, but now parents buy the toys for kids. He became too soft. Christmas is not celebrated the way it should be. That’s why I’m here. This entitled kid of yours thinks she deserves these presents and has next-to-no appreciation for the hands that give them to her.”
Wick squints a round pumpkin eye, “This true, girl? You think you just deserve things just because you live?”
Clara huffs, “n-no! He’s stealing my gifts that I earned for being a good girl!”
The young Santa laughs, “You kiddin’ me? You don’t deserve this at all. Yo, Wick,”
“Yeah?”
“You… Know each other?” Clara says, squinting at the two. They both nod.
“Did you know what this girl did with Richie Drives?”
Clara jolts and Wick looks to her. “N-nothing! He’s lying!” she says.
“You mean that thing on Halloween? At the brew and view?”
“Yeah, they’re both underaged too,” Santa says with a cruel grin, stuffing her presents into his sack and replacing them with copious amounts of coal.
“I did see that… Damn, that ain’t good at all,” Wick says, his hands diminishing in their glow as he crosses his arms.
Clara begins trembling. “No! My dad still think I’m good. I was a good girl this year!”
“Only because you didn’t tell ‘em, bitch,” Santa says with a crass smile.
Wick clears his throat, “You’ve changed a bit, Ulrich.”
The boy smirks “I’m sick of being polite. I’m here to take toys.”
Clara draws as much breath as she can into her terrified lungs- this is her last chance. “Please! Mr. Wick, stop him!”
“Why?”
“Because… because he’s changing Christmas!
Wick nods his lanternly head from side to side. “Well, that’s true. Ulrich, you shouldn’t break the status quo like this.”
Santa’s son, scoffs, “Like I’d listen to some Halloween underling!”
“As if we weren’t in the same class at Spiritania Academy.”
“Come on, that was years ago. I grew up, so should you.”
“You forget I’m on my third cycle, and you’re still on your first. I did learn, and I while I think she doesn’t deserve her have her toys, you shouldn’t break the tradition your father has set.”
“Th-they’re not toys,” Clara says, raising a finger in protest to stress the point that they’re far more important than some silly toys.
Both Wick and Ulrich share a chuckle.
“You see what I mean? She’s completely delusional!”
“That changes nothing. Our job is to provide holidays for humans, not decide if they get to or not.” Wick leans forward, cracking his skeletal knuckles.
Ulrich leans into Wick. “Hell no. Holidays are a tool and a privilege- people celebrate them because of what they have to teach!”
“And you think that gives you the right to just pervert holidays willy nilly? Do you remember what happened to the Christmas Knight?”
Clara looks between the two of them, their expressions slowly souring. She smiles- it’s working.
“’Course I do. Not a day goes by! You think I don’t care? I’m curing him!”
Wick nods sarcastically. “You think this would help? Christmas is about generosity, the gift you have to give people.”
Ulrich squints bitterly at Wick, and then spits at him. “Who are you to decide what Christmas is?”
Wick begins recharging his spooky magic. “It was the decision of our ancestors, just like every holiday. I agree that Christmas isn’t what it once was, but the message is the same.”
“No, it’s not. It’s about consumerism, the self! Children care more about receiving, not giving!”
“That’s ‘cuz they’re kids. They’re dumb. Y’know that.” Wick says, flinching in what Clara guesses to be anger.
Ulrich delivers a jolly laugh, the dreams of a million children rushing through the air with every breath. “Yes! But not for long! I will set an example this Christmas! I’ll give the undeserving children coal, and they’ll realize the great distance they must cross before they are deserving of gifts. They will become humble!”
“N’ ya’ think kid’s these days smart enough to guess that? ‘Steada’ getting’ angry?”
Ulrich scoffs, looking over Wick’s serious, straight frame. “Certainly. I’ll educate them with misery! I’ll restore Christmas to what was originally envisioned!”
“You’re mad.”
“Yeah! You’re mad!” Clara buts in with Wick.
The two men look over to her, one with a disturbed awkwardness and the other with a distasteful grin, and then back to each other.
“Right, as I was saying, I’m changing Christmas. I don’t care who gets involved. It’s not like anyone can stop me. Anyway.”
Wick’s eyes squint and he gives a deep, ridged scowl, the sort Clara would expect from someone spooky looking like him. “You’re sayin’ I can’t wipe the floor with you, Jingle Boy?” Wick says with heavy, pumpkin-spice-scented breath.
Ulrich’s grin ranges up his eyes widen cruelly. “You know I hate being called that.”
“Tough bones, Jingle Bo-”
Nic’Flakkus,” In a quick explosion of holiday cheer, Ulrich blows wick’s left arm right off in a magic explosion.
Wick is sent flying and spinning into the wall as candy corn and other assorted treats spew from his wound. “You think this is a game, you Jingle-Ass mothe-
Ulrich laughs over Wick’s words. “Was your fault in the first place coming here! There’s no way I’m going to---” Ulrich stops the second he hears a door open upstairs.
Clara, Wick, and Ulrich all exchange glances, but the looks on the men’s faces are those of pure horror.
Ulrich winces and takes a breath. “Shiii-
“Hello? Who’s down there?” calls a frightened, male voice from above. “Who are you? Tell me or I’ll call the police.”
The two holiday men look to Clara, who clears her throat. “Uh, it’s me, dad. Nothing to worry abou-”
This is the last thing Clara will speak on the world plane for a long time, for just as she began her second sentence, she feels the deft, inescapable grip of a hundred hands, pulling her back, though, and away to somewhere else.

Sometimes she misses her dad. She wonders what he’s up to now, and if he’s getting along okay without her. He was always the clingy sort after mom died.
 

Narhval

Senior Member
So I really liked the story as it is different from alot of other stories out there. The only thing that I could put my finger on was when you wrote:
the German-looking boy speaks.
It just really throws me for a loop because I have to start racking my brain for how a german boy looks which takes my attention away from the story. Maybe calling him a fair haired boy or something like that might work better. Just a little thought. Would love to read more :)
 
“Season’s greetings, bitch!

This line seriously cracked me up...
I thought this story was really funny and felt like the flow was okay. Nothing specific I did not like about it. There were a few spots I could have used more description, like maybe when she calls bloody mary, that part did not feel too scary because I could not imagine it that well. Maybe more description of Wick and who he is since he is not like Santa Clause or any traditional holiday character who I know already.

The ending was not that clear to me either, what were all the hands, where did they take her? Hell or Christmas Hell... If you don't already know a lot Krampus I think that would interest you based on this story. Over all I thought it was really funny and I enjoyed it very much.
 

KellInkston

Senior Member
So I really liked the story as it is different from alot of other stories out there. The only thing that I could put my finger on was when you wrote:

It just really throws me for a loop because I have to start racking my brain for how a german boy looks which takes my attention away from the story. Maybe calling him a fair haired boy or something like that might work better. Just a little thought. Would love to read more :)

Implemented~ <3

This line seriously cracked me up...
I thought this story was really funny and felt like the flow was okay. Nothing specific I did not like about it. There were a few spots I could have used more description, like maybe when she calls bloody mary, that part did not feel too scary because I could not imagine it that well. Maybe more description of Wick and who he is since he is not like Santa Clause or any traditional holiday character who I know already.

The ending was not that clear to me either, what were all the hands, where did they take her? Hell or Christmas Hell... If you don't already know a lot Krampus I think that would interest you based on this story. Over all I thought it was really funny and I enjoyed it very much.

Implemented! <3 <3

Very nice suggestion with Krampus, I'll consider throwing him in during a later chapter.

Also, if you're interesting for reading more, would you let me know? I got quite a bit more to share if you'd like to be a beta reader.
 
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