Only Good Girls Get Candy Canes

Walking in a Winter Wonderland Part 2

Through dense coverage of pine and long dead trees, Mr. Manx guided you across the dehydrated, stunted brown patches of grass to some beautiful house that stood timeless in the center of the suffering scene. "Is this where you live?" You looked up to see a grand, pastel-green house with red windows and a door emerge through the densely populated pine trees. The spandrels and columns that supported the brick porch were painted white and full of intricate bevels. It appeared to be stuck in the Victorian era, and served as a farmhouse to hold those who cared for the tree farm. The last part you made up in your mind.

"It is. The original was burnt down by-"

"Vic McQueen. I heard of it on the news." You shuddered at the thought of what happened here.

"Exactly. You already know my thoughts about her, so I will not bore you with my redundancy." He led you eagerly up the front porch to the door, where he pushed in the golden doorknob so you could enter inside. You found a hallway leading to a flight of stairs, and two openings on either side of you as you entered. The faint, eerily old music of "Jingle Bell Rock" murmured somewhere above you from a skipping record. Charlie led you through the right side to two leather chairs that were planted on an angle facing a festively simple Christmas fireplace. He took a seat in the farthest one away, then motioned for you to sit with him. The fire was already strong with flames ready to devour the next log. This was not Dracula's castle or a typical medieval catacomb. This vampire lived in a country farmhouse.

"Stay here, I will make us some cocoa." Charlie revealed his childish excitement with a small-mouthed smile. With jolly, flushed cheeks, he rushed away back through the door opening, leaving you to your own devices. You were beginning to draw a sour interest to the music, and would have much rather preferred listening to "Little Drummer Boy". Within seconds of your unspoken whim, the music changed, wherever it was, to the slow, choral song you were thinking of. Maybe it was only a coincidence or in your head. Charlie came back through the doorway holding two mugs garnished with candy canes. He offered one to you, and you accepted it with interest.

"Thank you." Both of your mugs, ceramic, were lifted to your faces with thirst. The hot cocoa you tasted was thick and rich in flavor. This was not how you imagined it to taste, but it over exceeded your expectations.

"Did you change the music?" The mug remained wrapped in your fingers warmly, though it was the middle of June.

"No, my dear, that is the magic working in this house. You thought up "Little Drummer Boy" into existence, didn't you; yes, you made it materialize? It's the most beautiful thing about being a Creative, and I believe you have learned fast." He shook his head then held the mug up to his lips for another sip. The crackling fireplace set to ceaseless popping, sending embers wearily into the open air. Occasionally you looked over at the pale man hoping he would break the silence or simply kill you now if that is what his intentions were. But every time you stole a glance in his direction, he seemed content where he was and what he was doing. He thought peacefully, looked into the burning fireplace, and took another drink like an ordinary human being.

"How old are you." It was not a question that escaped your mouth, it was a demand. Being startled by the sudden rebirth of conversation, Manx went wide-eyed for a second, wiped his mouth of any stray hot chocolate, then quickly set his mug down on the small table between he and you.

"How old am I?" He pointed one of his fingers to himself, wide-eyed still, almost in a concerning manner, before breaking into a deep cry of laughter. He tilted his head in consideration, lifted a brow, then brought a finger to his lips in deep thought. In a moment, his finger lowered, showing that he was bearing his teeth as if he knew this question would be one of the first ones you would ask.