Peppermint Magic

A town called Christmas

It was an accident.

Because accidents happen, even in a world as unusual as theirs.
Especially in a world as unusual as theirs.
That's not to say that what had happened couldn't have been prevented, nor that he was innocent. Of course not, Pride was his middle name, after all.

Hunter downed a glass of ambiguous brown coloured and foul tasting liquid and sank back into the sofa, staring holes in the exposed brick wall of his one bedroom flat. Deadly silence only broken by the ever present bustle of the city.

His middle name was James, and if it made anyone anywhere feel any better; he was sorry. Most sincerely apologetic. Not that it mattered much, surely it bothered next to no one that Hunter James Wallis hadn't had a decent night of sleep in about two years.
No amount of questionable liquor could make him forget the screams, the flames...the smell of burning...

Nope, he wasn't going to go there. Not today and certainly not this early.

"Damnit Brie,"

Before him, discarded on the coffee table lay the offending object, the thing that had brought thoughts of carnage to the forefront of his mind: a single postcard. Sending him the warmest greetings from a town called Christmas. The back was easy to visualise: pastel coloured pens in messy and oh so familiar handwriting with little hearts instead of dots on the i's inviting him back. On behalf of her father, of course, though Hunter could smell the vanilla scented influence from where he sat, miles and miles away.     

Brie had a lot more of that than she let on..

The phone rang trice.

"Memento Mori Florists, how may we assist you?"

"Mr. Mori?"

Silence. Then a breath:
"Hunter?"

He actually barked a laugh in cheer relief.

"Yeah...yeah, it's me," he breathed before regaining his composure: "How are you sir?"

The man on the other side of the line sighed: "Are you well, son?"
The question where have you been? was left hanging in the air somewhere, along with why haven't you called? and are you drunk?

"I'm...well enough," Hunter mumbled, desperately seeking to steer the conversation away from himself, he settled on: "Brie sent me a card."

Mr. Mori huffed a laugh at that: "So she told me...I won't tell you what to do Hunter, but know that you are always welcome to stay," the silence hung heavy between the two of them for a moment before Mr. Mori decided on breaking it: "Brie would be delighted to see you...Without Wensleydale here I'm afraid she finds me frustrating..."

No shit.

Hunter laughed again, it sounded teary and he prayed to all that's sacred mr. Mori didn't notice, all against his better judgement of course. The man always noticed.

"How's Dale doin', Mr. Mori?" Hunter asked.

"As good as could be expected," the man answered without hesitation, "He does his job well."

Hunter could just picture Wensleydale, damn hippie: long corn coloured hair blowing in the wind from under that hat he refused to take off, stone faced and scythe in hand. Their school days seemed so far behind them...

"I'm off to the train station sir, see if I'm able to catch the 13:03."

As the train neared its end destination of Woethorn, the middle of absolutely nowhere because a town called Christmas was entirely too wholesome for public transport, thank you very much, the stones Hunter had quite foolishly decided to keep in his pocket started to feel heavy What had compelled him to bring them in the first place, he couldn't tell. They had lain discarded in the back of a drawer for months.

He could kill for a fag right about now, or a drink...
His leg shook in nervous anticipation. Through the window fog made the world look so much smaller. Around here, it wasn't just a feeling. White snow was starting to fall, and Hunter knew there was no way back.

The cigarette was lit before his feet hit the platform.

      "You know those things will kill you, don't you?" a familiar voice said, off to the side from him.
Hunter brushed a strand of blond hair from his eyes, smiling what he hoped was a blinding smile.

"Eventually," he admitted, "Hiya Brie...Don't tell your dad?"

Brie scoffed nose twitching: "Not something he doesn't no already, is it?" she smiled brightly up at him: "Hey Hunter,"

Hunter got rid of the cigarette and opened his arms to her. Brie gladly skipping into them.

"You look like shit," she told him in a pleasant tone, bleached ringlets brushing his nose. For a moment he breathed nothing but vanilla.

"Coming from you, that means a lot surely," he answered as soon as she let go of him: "You didn't bring the rat?"

He tried not to sound too hopeful.

"I thought you weren't on speaking terms," Brie answered knowingly,  bumping her shoulder into his with much more force than was strictly necessary

"But I-" Hunter tried to counter as he struggled to keep his balance.

Brie shook her head and made her way to the translation's exit.

"He's getting old," she told him from over her shoulder: "I worry about him,"

She was talking about the rat now, the actual vermin.

"I don't think it's him you should be worried about," Hunter called after her: "aren't you going to help me with the bags?"

She threw her head back with laughter, stumbling as she did so, ruffled duck egg blue skirts peeping out from under the heavy black coat as she composed herself. "No!" she shouted back: "they're yours. It's hardly my fault you've packed like you'll be staying the year."

As he catched up to her, she added:" You're as vain as ever Wallis!"

    "Oy!" Hunter was in no position to protest lest he was willing to lose his belongings.

Brie turned around and took one of the lighter bags out of his grasp.

"And just as slow too," she grinned. Hunter blew his hair out of his face, mostly to hide his fond smile. He said nothing more and followed her out.

Brie did not drive a car. No one living in and near the town called Christmas did, really. A fact that had always frustrated Hunter, there was no need to and he knew that. But still...It would have been exciting.

Twinkly lights fashioned into elaborate ornaments practically lit up the town's centre, equally elaborate displays in the shop windows showing off the particular crafts and wears for sale. A stinging sense of nostalgia made its way to Hunter's chest as they passed the toy store. Of course the Plainacher family made good use of the holiday spirit, especially now that the season was nearing: German dolls and bears in every shape and size sat waiting for an new owner in various appealing poses and despite the store being closed for hours a toy train still merrily made its way round a small track, actual smoke appeared to billow from its little chimney. Like magic.

Brie snorting behind him made Hunter realise he'd said it out loud.
"Of course it is, you weirdo!" she laughed, "What else do you suppose it is? The Christmas Spirit?!"
Her words echoed over town square and Hunter tore his eyes away from the window display.

"I know," he drawled, if only looks could kill...If only it would have any lasting effect on her. Brie raised an eyebrow at him, seemingly unimpressed, as if she could read his mind. He had a hard time remembering whether she could or not. He sighed instead: "It's just that.."

"It's just that you're so far removed from it nowadays, you forget it exists," Brie finished for him.

"Yeah," Hunter turned his gaze back to the window, watching the little train pass by once again.

"Something like that,"