Dark Christmas

Day 2

We slept soundly on the floor in the halloween shop, and when we woke, the storm had ceased and there was a foot of snow on the ground outside, and the sun was shining brightly, albeit coldly, onto the outside world.

"We're snowed in, and trapped," I said, grimacing.

"We can't go out?" Sierra asked.

"Progress will be very slow."

Sierra went to use the store's bathroom while I ate a cookie and drank eggnog. We needed food - we could eat snow for water - and it was uncomfortable wearing our wet clothes.

She came back. "Now what do we do?"

I tapped her on the shoulder. "Look outside."

She looked, and we saw what appeared to be an old man bundled up in an old coat, carrying some heavy-looking metallic device, which he was pointing in front of him and which rapidly melted the snow in front of him.

"What do we do?" Sierra whispered.

"Ask for help, of course." I opened up the door and yelled,"HEY! OVER HERE!"

The old man said nothing, but kept on making his way toward us. In a few seconds he had arrived. He was wearing a red-and-white plaid long-sleeved shirt and snowpants, and he wore spectacles and a white beanie.

He stared at us, inspecting us, sizing us up.

"Who might you be?" he said softly.

"I'm Jonas, and this is Sierra," I said.

"We have not had any visitors for several years," the old man croaked. "You are not welcome here."

I didn't know what to say - what, that we didn't remember how we got here?

"Help us find our way home, then," said Sierra bravely.

"From where do you come?" asked the old man in that croaky voice of his, turning to look at Sierra.

Sierra and I looked at each other.

"We don't know," we replied.

He looked at us. "Well, you can come to my home and stay for a day or two until we can figure out where you are to go. I am inviting guests over anyway. Follow me. Oh, and take these. You may need them."

He reached into his large pockets and pulled out two pistols, handing them to us.

And with that, he strode off, using his melting machine to clear a path.

We immediately followed, carrying the pistols in our hands.

We made slow progress down the road and finally came to the city square.

"Almost there," grunted the old man.

We came to a residential building and the old man pulled a key out of his pocket, stuck it in the lock, and opened the door.

He led us upstairs.

There was another old man with a grey beard who was playing a guitar and singing, around whom were a few men and women singing along. There was an old woman who was drinking ale in a corner and muttering to herself, and there was a young man who was telling a story to his comrades.

I was a bit unnerved, and the old man, who called himself Methuselah, turned to us.

"You can stay with us," he told us. "On one condition."

"What?"

"You assassinate our enemies."

That night we had a huge dinner. Pumpkin pie, roasted chicken, boiled potatoes, grape juice, Irish spring water, corn, peas, brussels sprouts, beef, fruit cakes.