Forever After (a dark and funny fantasy novel) (30 page)

             
The kid continued, “And he’s brought his ugly little elf with him!”

             
“The little fucking shit…”

             
“Come on,” Santa beckoned with an open arm, “the night is young.”

****

              Michael gazed up at the dazzling house in awe, his jaw hung open like a hungry toddler. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered to himself. “It’s lit up like…”

             
“Christmas?” Naff offered.

             
“Yeah,” Michael said noncommittally, ducking his eyes from the house -- whose every inch had been covered with glittering, multi-coloured lights -- and feigning an unimpressed look.

             
Naff waited by the front door with a big grin on his face. He was enjoying their adventure, the Christmas spectacle draped over the house before them and the battle of wills that ensued on his friend’s face.

             
“After you,” he nodded at the front door.

             
Michael gave him a vexed stare as he passed through the front door. Inside it was just as colourful and spectacular as it was outside. The walls were strewn with an assortment of glittering tinsel and flashing pinpoint lights. An army of ornaments -- Santa Rudolph, snowmen -- lined up on the windowsills, coffee table and mantel piece. Stick-on snowflakes adhered to the insides of the windows, advent calendars waited by the front door and stockings hung from the mantel.

             
Michael quickly and silently unlocked the door before walking deeper into the room. At the back of the room a large Christmas tree stood defiantly. Its plastic bristles scratched the ceiling; its arms reached every piece of furniture within a two-foot perimeter.

             
He stood in front of it, gazing up. On the top of the tree, sitting before a crown of branches that picked at the artexed ceiling, looking comfortable and majestic, was a hand-crafted wooden angel. A great deal of detail and care had been taken over every minute feature; every fold of her skirt, every sparkle in her eye.

             
Naff brushed up beside him with the sack trailing at his heels.

             
“I don’t think you hate Christmas after all,” he noted happily. He moved to put a hand around his friend’s shoulder, but then thought better of it and feigned a stretch and a yawn.

             
“I loved it as a kid,” Michael noted, smiling at the glittering angel on the top of the decorated tree. “Everything about it. I think that’s my problem; that’s why I hate it now.”

             
Naff gave him a puzzled expression. “You don’t like to be reminded of your childhood?”

             
“What?” Michael flashed him a bemused look. “No, no. Far from it,” he uttered, turning back to the tree as its succession of flickering lights bathed the room in a sea of temporary blue light. “I miss being a kid,” he explained softly.

             
“Ah.”

             
“The innocence. The joy. There are other things I miss of course, you can’t enjoy some of the best things in life until you’re older, but as a kid...” he shrugged, “I guess things just felt...
better
.” He smiled and turned to Naff who didn’t seem to be taking the information in. “You know?”

             
“Not really.”

             
“You were never a kid?”

             
“If I was I can’t remember. To be honest, I mean, I like them an’ all, but they seem like a completely different breed to me.”

             
“Kids?”

             
“Yep.”

             
Michael watched the tree as a dazzling and epileptic wash of colours swam over its plastic leaves. “I’m with you on that on,” he agreed. “But still, it’s different when you are one.”

              The two stood in relative silence, watching the lights in the room flicker from one neon spectrum to another. A gentle buzz from the electric lights and the purr of a muted snore from upstairs were the only sounds to come between them until Naff sombrely noted: “This world isn’t all that bad you know. The afterlife,
this
life.”

             
“What?”

             
“Well, that’s what this is all about isn’t it? You loved Christmas when you were alive and hate it now. It reminds you of what you’ve lost.”

             
Michael glared at him. He pondered dismissing his part-time pseudo psychology but shrugged it off and offered a simple nod. “I guess so.”

             
“We can live forever,” Naff continued “We can see the dawn of new civilisations. We can witness and survive catastrophic natural events, wars and human crises. It’s a great opportunity; a great life.”

             
Michael watched the heightened features on his friends face as they flickered with a fusion of delight and coercion. “I was just beginning to enjoy myself here,” he said softly. “Don’t fucking spoil it.”

7

              They met back at Naff’s house. On the journey home Michael didn’t stop smiling and he didn’t mind Naff noticing, nor did he mind the smart-arsed comments that filled up their journey for its entirety. He felt good, certainly a lot better than when they had started on their quest. The alcohol had helped, despite being a few days away from Christmas Eve the final house had left out a bottle of port and a couple of glasses on the dining room table, the thirsty friends agreed it had
probably
been left for them and wasted no time in drinking it; snacking on a few mince pies from the kitchen and tempting candy canes from the tree.

             
They arrived back just as Chip and Sampson were entering the street. They were equally joyous. Sampson walked tall and proud, the look of dismay stripped form his face and filled with one of pride and happiness. Chip was equally happy; he knew there was nothing separating him from spending the next few days with his wank machine.

             
Naff poured the drinks and shared out some slices of suspicious looking ginger cake. He was proud of his work, happy to do a good deed for the people of the town and for the demon he had been hired to look after. He was always happy when his work had been completed sufficiently and expertly.

             
Whilst Naff, Michael and Sampson drank and shared in the revelry of the season, swapping jokes and stories, Chip sat hunched up in the corner with a broad smile on his ugly face as the computer screen flashed a fleshy light onto his glossy features.

             
“So,” Naff, having drained his drink following a toast, put down the glass and rubbed his hands. “Same again next year?”

             
Michael glared at him, his mouth full of brandy. He swallowed and snapped open his lips to scratch back a heated reply but Naff halted him with a raised palm. “I was kidding, for fuck’s sake.”

             
Michael managed a restrained smile.

             
Naff turned to Sampson, “Are you ready to go then? It’s time.”

             
The demon nodded contently. He finished his drink and put down the glass without letting an inch of that contentedness slip from his chubby, reddened face.

             
He moved to Michael and offered him a hand. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll never forget what you and your friends have done for me.”

             
Michael nodded back, keeping his distance in case the big man decided to go in for the hug. “Even if we did send you to hell?”

             
Sampson shrugged apathetically, “You were just doing your job.”

             
“Fair enough.”

             
“You’ve made many children happy tonight,” he said, turning to Naff. He shook his hand firmly, clasping it in both of his colossal palms. “You’re a good man.”

             
Naff tried to look modest but his pride burst through in a red bubble.

             
He moved to Chip and stood over him, his ominous shape casting a shadow over the little man hunched up on the couch. Chip looked up after several moments and seemed surprise to see the wannabe Santa Claus standing there.

             
“Hello,” he said meekly.

             
“I’m going,” Sampson stated.

             
“Oh,” that was all Chip was prepared to say before he returned his attention to his porn, but a forewarning look from Michael and Naff forced him to do otherwise. He groaned like a reluctant child and rose to his feet.

             
“Good bye,” he offered. “Have fun, keep safe an’ all that.”

             
Santa grinned wryly and turned to move, Chip, in one final moment of curiosity, stopped him.

             
“Do you still think you’re Santa then?” the little man wondered. “I mean, after all this. And now that you’re going back to hell, you must realise that you’re a demon. You can’t really still believe you’re
him
, can you?”

             
“Maybe...” Santa began, looking at Chip, “Maybe the real Santa
is
a demon. Maybe the reason no one believes in him anymore is because he was resigned to the bowels of hell, away from his beloved children and his true home. Maybe the real Santa just found a way to escape those clutches and to get back to his rightful position as the bringer of joy and mirth to the world. I mean...” he paused, beamed a mystical smile, “no
human
could possibly do what Santa has to do, could they? He would have to be a demon or something, wouldn’t he?”             

             
Chip’s mouth dropped open like the hinges of his jaw had snapped. He glared at the fat man in front of him. He watched him disappear, fading into nothingness right in front of him, then he turned his awed-expression towards his friends.

             
“It really was him!” Chip declared loudly.

             
A brief second passed before Michael burst into a fit of hysterics. Chip shot him a look of bemusement before turning to Naff who was shaking his head in mild disbelief.

             
Naff said, “You truly are a fucking numpty aren’t you?”

Thank you for reading Forever After.

If you enjoyed the book you may be interested in these other books by the same author:

An Idiot in Love (Comedy):

Sample from book (opening chapter):

             
My ignorance of the opposite sex, and of relationships, began when I was eight.

             
Kerry Newsome was in the year ahead of me. She was a nine year old underachiever with the charm of a fairytale stepsister. I had seen her on the playground a number of times, and she had giggled her way through a handful of awkward conversations with me, but I rarely gave her a second thought.

             
That all changed during one confusing break-time. I was kicking a battered football around a chalked, concrete pitch when one of her friends interrupted me.

             
‘Kieran!’