[ Flipside - A DSaF Fanfic ]

[ Holiday Special | Merry Crisis, Guys!!! ]

[ hey y'all, just wanted to tell you guys this before you read this chapter: HAPPY HOLIDAYS, MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY KWANZAA, HAPPY HANNUKA, OR WHATEVER YOU CELIBRATE!! this chapter is one of my gifts. my other gift is the dead bird i left on your doorstep. go check, it's probably there. oh! and the link at the end! ]

[ also, i'ma be doing these Special Chapters from time to time. they don't impact lore at all (but may give incite to a character's mind and/or backstory) and rather are just short stories so i can practice writing shorter things and take a break from the chapters. ]

    Jack laid down on his bed, it was Christmas eve. He glanced to window; the glittering snow contrasted with the blotchy ink sky. It was like white confetti in a pitch-black party room, or white sprinkles on a cake. 

    Oh shit, He though, sighing. All my analogies are birthday themed...I think working all winter break at the pizzeria really fucked up my mind.

    Sitting up in his bed, he pushed off his covers slightly. His body ached from overworking himself, his movments stiff. He checked the time on his watch, which he had forgotten to take off before going to bed. He checked the time. 11:40pm (23:40 for anyone who uses military time) it read on his watch. He stared at the watch, the rhythmic sound of the watch ticking to count every second. 

    You see, he had this tradition to stay up until Christmas. Back when he, Peter and Dee were alive, they'd always stay up until Christmas, then scrambled downstairs to see what their parents got them. Jack, who was once the youngest child, would usually get some cool stuff. Peter always wanted some sort of action figure but got dolls instead. Dee was content with dolls, or whatever toddler toys she got. That's at least what Peter told him. To be honest, Jack's memory of the past was kind of gargled and misty, like he was staring through some frosted glass. Maybe that's just what happens when you don't have a soul? Did his soul take his memories in the divorce? Anyways, when their parents passed, and Peter had to take over their responsibilities, they didn't get as cool of gifts. Money was short. Peter often tried to make gifts for them with what he had. 

    One year, in of his less misty memories, Jack remembered he had gotten a wooden bow. Jack couldn't remember how felt about it, though. And when he asked Peter about it, he got all quiet and shit. It felt weird to Jack, being practically two separate people. He wondered who he was back then, and if he was a good person. 

    Probably not. 

    Jack gazed at the ceiling. He thought about seeing his soul again, thinking about who was the "real" Jack. Was he the real Jack? Was his soul the real Jack? Could they both be the real Jack? And, what if he didn't like who his soul was, who he was. Thoughts stormed and thundered in his brain, one thought beginning before another ended as if they were interrupting each other. 

    Who was he?

    His attention sharpy changed at the sound of something on the roof. Something hard, like hooves or something. He checked his watch. It was 12:03pm (24:03). He looked up again. His brain when immediately to Santa, making him feel giddy. He rolled out of bed, thumping loudly to the floor. After getting up, he tiptoed quietly across his room, around his clothes that laid on the floor. The clomping repeated again. He wondered how Santa would even get in, as he lacked a chimney. He knew Santa wasn't real, yes, but it was fun to imagine. 

    He pulled a ladder out of a closet, dusting it off as it had been in there for a while. 

    Not the only thing that had been in a closet for a while. He thought to himself, with a quiet chuckle.

    He stumbled to his room again, dragging his ladder along with him. He awkwardly tried to fit the ladder through his door frame and got it the 12th try. His door frame now had scuffs on it from the failed attempts. Very sad. 

    He opened the window in his room, a gust of cold winter air biting at him. Jack waved the cold away and fit the top of the ladder through. He climbed, got through the window, and clawed at the roof. The roof was slippery with snow, but he somehow managed to scrambled up. He stood on the roof, the fog making it hard to see what was on the roof. Walking farther, he heard skittering, and saw some white eyes in the thick fog. Reindeers? The creatures padded cautiously towards Jack. There was around three or four of them. Their eyes glowed white, and they looked about cat sized. They had a mostly gray coat of fur, with black stripes on their tail, and a black and white mask.

    He stared at them. Shit. Raccoons, not magical reindeer.

    The raccoons charged at him, foam forming around their mouths. Jack slid down the roof haphazardly, clambering onto the ladder. He almost fell, but with his dumb luck, he got inside safely. Jack tore the ladder from where he had rested it, and slammed the window.

    At last, Jack had learnt the true meaning of Christmas: Don't trust the sound on the roof of your house. It's probably not Santa, and rather, feral and rabid mammals who wish to steal your kneecaps. Merry Christmas (or whatever you celebrate, if you celebrate at all), and to all a FUCKING AWFUL NIGHT. FUCK YOUUU- REEEEEE Oh, sorry- the rabies was kicking in. I may have gotten bit by one of those raccoons...anyways, happy holidays, everyone! Enjoy getting socks!

[ here's a gift!!! for you!!! watch the whole video plox :3 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V-_O7nl0Ii0 ]