DEAD WINTER: A CRYPTIC Anthology

Harley's Holiday • Red Harvey

Christmas gifts were supposed to be fun. And yet...

"I'm super bored." Harley tossed a dart, sighing when she missed. "I'm usually really good at this game."

She aimed, squinted, and let another dart fly. Her aim was less than true, but she kept at it.

The whimpers in the corner did little to dissuade her, mostly because they sounded like giggles through the filter of her own insanity.

"Your turn!" She held out a dart to the cowering mass in the corner, but nothing happened. "Take it, the game's no fun without friends."

The woman plucked it from the palm of her hand. Tears coated her eyes, and she stared at the dart like she couldn't comprehend its use.

"Hurry up now before ya regret it!" Harley said.

A second later, the dart hit the wall, well clear of the...target.

Harley crowed, "You suck worse than I do!"

The woman crept back into the corner, huddled and crying.

After another unsuccessful hit, Harley decided the whimpers were to blame: "Ya know, it's rude to make noise. I was quiet for you!" The chains rattled, but the whimpers ceased. "Thank ya, doll."

Although she had been sure of her gift only an hour before, now she was sure that Puddin' would be disappointed. One more throw, and the target let out a gleeful shout as the dart pierced his eye. The plaything affixed to the large wheel groaned and then passed out. Blood pooled around the dart stuck in his eye, accentuating the white paint slathered on his face.

"Bulls-eye!" Harley squealed, jumping up and down. "Bulls-eye! Get it?" She turned to the woman, who cowered.

"Please, stop it," she pleaded.

Harley approached her new toy, reaching out to fluff the polyester red and blue braids. The woman trembled, the chains on her legs softly clinking together.

"Here's a tip on being me: I would never beg for the fun to stop," she tsked.

The scene was too much, too predictable. Two clowns who couldn't even entertain? Ugh. Puddin' adored the strange, and these two were just strangely sad. They wouldn't do at all.

"Ya know, sweetie, I will stop." Harley pecked the toy on the lips, savoring the salty wetness of her tears. "See ya later."

She flounced to the door, surveying the two one last time. A tall green-haired clown nailed to the dart board as target practice, and a red-haired beauty in a tiny get-up who had the audacity to call herself Harley.

Well, the real Harley had attended their performance downtown, and was...unimpressed by their lackluster imitations. She'd intended to hammer sense into their silly heads after the show, but had been inspired to share their story with her Puddin. After all, it was Christmas Eve.

"Thank you!" the imposter cried.

"Oh sweetheart, don't thank me until you meet the love of my life." Harley threw a nod at the corpse of Mr. J's pathetic excuse for a doppelganger.

Understanding washed over imitation-Harley's face. She shook her head, saying, "No. Not him. Please!"

Piercing wails followed her out the door, and with each one, Harley's grin widened.

She climbed into her blue sports car singing "Jingle bells, jingle bells, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm."

She could never quite remember the words, but the melody was enough.