Dreaming of a Grim Christmas

[ashkent]

Another fine mess you've gotten yourself into! Once again Christmas has come, and since recovering from A Christmas Carol retold which is (shameless! utterly shameless!!) still selling merrily through Amazon, it has been a while since anyone at work has uttered the words "Are you writing anything new for Christmas?" for fear of being on the receiving end of the largest fist since some one asked King Kong for a high five! But it had to happen sometime, and not content with Elf and Elf Again being posted on the Tales From The Back Side site for their entertainment, they still asked. And without waiting for authorisation, my mouth said "Well, why not." My mind is now in rehab, siting in a corner gibbering like a wreck.

But onward we must go, so I tried to think what i could do and suddenly Grim popped into my head. So prepare for a short (probably long-short but still short) story for Christmas featuring Grim, Pinkie and a couple of surprise guests in a history making, time spanning, rule defying, religion defying mess of words that will hopefully turn out all right in the end.

Ladies, Gentlemen and other life forms...welcome to Dreaming of A Grim Christmas.

1.

The snow-laden ground looked like the hairy back of a gargantuan South Mongolian Albino Yeti. That would be a Yeti who had strayed far from home and been speared from behind from something that looked very much like the pole found in the centre of the North Pole.

The winter landscape stretched for miles around as far as the eye can see, except for to the east where the view was blocked by a brilliantly lit complex of buildings. Some were workshops, others were animal sheds and in the centre stood a beacon of luminance that could drain the power supply of a large Cornish town within hours.
A wire fence surrounded the compound, anonymous and official in appearance if not for the burning neon sign that betrayed any suggestion that a distant cousin of Area 51 lay inside.

THE CLAUSE COMPLEX, the sign flashed in letters six feet high.

DO NOT FEED THE ELVES, read a piece of chipboard tacked to the post holding the sign in place.

From within the complex, whirring machinery and the occasional burst of out of tune Slade filled the late afternoon air, while on the outside of the fence something altogether more unusual and unnaturally immediate was about to occur.

When it happened, the sound that accompanied it could only be replicated by someone pressing their face into a bucket of jelly and blowing like their life depended on it.

A trail of fire streaked into existence, ripping through time and space on the back of a short, dumpy shape that vanished into the depths of a large snow drift. A short silence followed in its wake like a procession of monks then the world erupted into a chaotic din of flailing arms and legs and a frantic monosyllable jabbering that could only be written as “ARR AR AR ARR ARRAR AR!”

As the snow settled and the thrashing ceased, the source of the commotion became clear; or at least clearly indefinable when cross-checked with the Encyclopaedia Britannica. This was not a creature frequently witnessed by the living at any time other than those of extreme circumstances, which can be considered a small mercy by all but those in extreme circumstances.

From its newly formed crater, the short, podgy, green-browned skinned oddity clambered onto the snow and stood there in all its naked, long armed glory. It scratched an area of grazed skin on its bald head and listened to a clacking sound nearby that seemed to be growing in volume. Its bug-eyes searched around for the source of the noise, confusion swamping what passed for a mind, before its chattering teeth chomped down on the thick flesh of its tongue and the clacking sound ended in a garbled yell that caused an avalanche six miles away.

“You really should learn to hold on,” said a deep, sombre voice nearby.

The dumpy figure spun around, its throbbing tongue dangling from its mouth as it stared up at the monolithic shape that seemed to have blinked into existence from behind an invisible curtain.

“Arr?” it asked, tilting its head in question.

“Of course it is me,” said the figure, who looked for all intents and purposes like a six-feet tall snowman wearing a black cloak and holding a scythe.

“Arr ar ar arr?”

“I’m what?” the figure questioned, looking down and dislodging  the snow from his face. “Oh, that would explain why I am feeling a little restricted.”

The figure lowered his cowl and shook his head with a series of clicks and a shower of snow, then proceeded to dust down the rest of his body.

“It is rather annoying when it gets in between the ribs,” said Grim, the immortal personification of Death, as he poked his finger around the hollows of his torso.

“Arr ar ar ara ar?” said his would-be apprentice, rubbing its own torso which contained rather more in the way of fat.

“Pinkie,” Grim said in the tone of a bored parent. “Whenever we go south of the equator you ask if I feel hot and when we arrive somewhere like here you want to know if I’m cold. Would you like me to write the reason I don’t feel either of these on a card so you can look at it whenever you feel the need?”

“Arr arr ar ar ar?”

“Yes, I will write it in crayon.”

“Ar arrra arar?”

“And use small words.”

“Ar.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m good like that. Now, if you think you can postpone hyperthermia a little longer, remember we are here for a reason. Now did you bring the plan of the sheds?”

“Ar,” the podgy demon affectionately called Pinkie said as he inexplicably produced a piece of damp paper from his little naked body.

Grim reached out gingerly and took hold of the paper with a grimace.

“How did you carry this?” he asked with a certain dread.

“Ar arrar arr,” Pinkie said proudly.

“Remind me to get you a satchel or something from supplies,” Grim said, opening out the paper with the tips of his fingers like bomb disposal expert lifting a red wire. “Now according to this, that rather unpleasant looking smudge is where we need to go. I think that is the one just over there.”

Grim studied the soiled paper a moment longer, satisfied himself that they were going in the right direction and folded the plan as distastefully as he had opened it.

“Ar arr arr ar?” Pinkie asked, holding out his spindly hand.

“No, it is fine,” Grim replied quickly. “I will hang on to it for now. Just try not to fall through any ice on the way.”

[Chinaren]

Ah, a Christmas story!  I feel all holidayish.


    

[NicTei]

Just a quick note, ask:  it'd be 'hypothermia' instead of 'hyperthermia.'  When you live as far north as I do, it tends to come up in conversation quite a bit. 

Good story, though!  I do love these Grim-themed ones.

[Thunderbird]

oooh, cool!  An ashkent story I don't have to catch up to to be on the cutting edge of... nice!  I've been trying to get caught up to Grim Reaping as I was around when it began but got waaay behind in the meantime.  It was really well written, as was this first chapter here.  Keep it up Ash!

[ashkent]

Thanks guys. Chapter 2 is almost good to go...and it's about to get biblical!

[ashkent]

2.

“I’m sure this is the one,” Grim said, consulting the plan once more. “There should be four pens inside and we want the furthest one from the door. It should be the one called Comet.”

“Arr ara ra rar ar?” Pinkie asked, dancing in the snow to try and warm himself.

“They replace him,” Grim said. “I believe that humans do it quite often with their domesticated pets.”

“Arr ar arr arr arrarar?”

“No one will be able to tell once someone puts a name tag on the new one. It is the way things work. I’ve collected hundreds of these over the years and no one but the man who rides behind them ever knows.”

The pair entered the shed, which did indeed contain four pens and the smell of moist fur. They walked along in silence like wardens on Death Row, eyes watching them from behind the wooden gates as they passed.

“Arr ara rar ar?” Pinkie asked as they approached the final pen.

“They are not exactly of the natural world, so they can see what some would call supernatural entities.” Grim paused a moment, then added, “That means us.”

He sensed the light come on in his companion’s eyes. It could be hard work sometimes working with someone of lesser intellect than himself, and the little demon from hell was as close to the competency level of pond weed as they came. Sometimes though, needs must. Other times it was questionable whether any needs were that great.

Grim turned into the pen of the condemned and after lowering his gaze by four feet he made eye contact with a bemused goat.

“Well that buggers things up, doesn’t it?” he asked the short quadruped.

“Ar ar arr ar?” Pinkie asked, peering around Grim’s robe.

“No it has not shrunk. It is a goat, not a reindeer. Different animal entirely. Certainly not the owner of the soul I am here to collect. I hate it when they change things around without putting it through Change Control.”

“Arr ar ar ar ar?”

“I have no idea why they have a goat in a reindeer pen. Unless it helps me find the reindeer that should be in here, I am not really interested.”

The shed door opened behind them and the sound of small, pattering feet entered.

Grim grabbed Pinkie by the nape of the neck and dived into a large heap of hay in the corner of the pen currently occupied by a very confused goat.

The pattering of tiny feet approached closer, accompanied by an equally small-sounding voice offering a greeting to each occupied pen it passed.

Grim heard the pen gate being unlocked and the owner of the feet stepped inside. Through the annoyance of hay, Grim could see the small shape of an elf.

“Hello Barney,” the elf said to the goat.

The elf held out his hand, and quickly withdrew as the goat attempted to have away with his fingers.

“I wish you’d stop doing that,” the elf scolded. “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t get half the work you do.”

Ah, Grim thought, It’s that elf.

The legend of Nobby the Elf had echoed around the Immortal world for many years; an elf with the ability to turn everything he touched, and even most things he did not, into spiralling vortexes of endless chaos. For Grim, the similarities with Pinkie were infinite.

“Let me just get your lead, and I’ll take you for a walk,” Nobby told the goat.

The elf turned around to remove the green leader from a hook on the door, momentarily forgetting the dozens of other times he had carried out the same task in the same way. Within seconds, Nobby was face down on the floor and Barney the goat was once again making a bid for freedom across the frozen landscape of the Claus Complex. In the seconds following that, Nobby was shrieking his head off and running in pursuit as fast as his stubby legs could carry him, which is to say, not as fast as the four legs of Barney.

Grim rose from the hay, pulling pieces from his eye sockets and dusting more from his robes.

“Well that was an unnecessary delay,” he said, reaching into the darkness of his robe and withdrawing The List. “Let me see how far that has set me back.”

He felt a tugging by his leg, and glanced down at Pinkie, who was slowly pulling himself to his feet and appeared rather dazed.

“Are you alright?” Grim asked in a rare moment of concern.

“Ar arr ar ar.”

“Oh, sorry about that. I thought the floor felt strangely soft. I’m sure there is no lasting damage. I think you need to shake yourself down.”

Pinkie shook himself hard enough to lose his balance and end up in the floor again.

Grim stared down vacantly for a moment, the thought Why? staring back at him from the depths of infinite time, then he returned to perusing The List.

He scanned the names of collections that continued to generate before his stare. The debacle with the reindeer had not created much of a backlog, but then again he had not actually collected it yet. It always surprised him how tight a time scale he worked to when he literally had all the time in the world at his command. It all came down to order. If order went out of the window, then anything could happen.

And in the world of Immortality that took on a potentially more devastating meaning that many could contemplate.

“Well it looks like the situation is not quite farcical yet,” Grim said. “If we can find our elusive reindeer, and gather those ones there in one sweep, then I do not see any reason why we will not be back on schedule by – what the hell?”

“Arr?”

“That is not right,” Grim said, watching as names began to vanish before his eyes.

“Arr ar?”

“Not good at all. Those names should not come off the list until the soul has been issued its visa to the hereafter. Not unless someone else has taken it upon themselves to begin collecting. Or…”

“Ar?”

“Or someone is toying with time.”

Grim studied the rapidly decreasing number of collections, while he contemplated the gravity of the occurrence. He had been in a similar situation before, but not on this scale. Names were whirring out of existence, not just those due for collection but he could feel the weight of life being lifted from the universe. This was not some minor tinkering by the student immortals sticking their fingers where no finger should ever be stuck. An event of this magnitude indicated meddling of biblical proportions…
literally.

“They are changing one of mankind’s pivotal events,” Grim mused with impressed .

“Arr arr?” Pinkie asked desperately.

“If I knew who was doing it that would make it too simple. Nothing is ever too simple. Apart from maybe that plum pudding they do on Thursdays. I think it could do with a dash of cinnamon or nutmeg.”

“Arr?”

“Sorry, these distractions do take over me now and again. I need a break from working with humans.”
Grim turned the list over in his hands and stroked the back of it in a intricate pattern that could only be described and forged with the aid of a PHD in Mathematics and a Masters Degree in Calligraphy. Hence, it shall be simply be referred to as intricate.

The mystic artefact made a noise like a grandfather clock being struck with a mallet and a small opening appeared. Despite The List being flat, as common sense and the regulations of reality would require, through the opening it was clear to see the insides of some complex and mechanically advanced machine, cogs a-whirring and wheels a-turning, the likes of which only existed in big budget sci-fi movies and market stalls in Tokyo.

“Now,” Grim said, examining the workings of The List. “If the Cog of Relative Time is rotating at four times its normal speed, and the Wheel of Doom is turning anticlockwise and aligning with the Dial of Tomorrow that means only one thing.”

“Arr ar?”

“It needs dusting. If you look down there though, that digital display tells you where something is out of place.”

“Arr ar arr ar!” Pinkie exclaimed.

“I told you it was of biblical proportions,” Grim said with a satisfied nod. “I think we need to toy with time a little ourselves.”

“Arr arr?”

“Who else is going to do it?”

“Ar arr?”

“Well he could, but I’m sure he has more important matters to deal with. This is a minor matter after all. Providing we can rectify what has been done, of course. “

“Ar arr arr arr?” Pinkie asked, twiddling his fingers nervously.

“If we can’t, then we will have some explaining to do. Now you may want to hold tight. It is one thing being lost off on a regular journey, but it would not be advisable to be lost somewhere in two millennia of history.”

Pinkie took hold of the offered robe and gripped it with his hands, feet and finally his teeth. Grim made a note to check for tears in the fabric when they arrived and file a compensation claim for the damage that would surely come.

He tapped another section of the list to reveal a small keypad. His bony digit typed out a date, then he hit return and watched the frozen north disappear in a shower of eons.  A blink later and the world converged around them in another sparkling explosion of time, fading away to reveal one hundred percent less snow and a large gathering of camels.

The List beeped in Grim’s hand, and the display flashed up at him.

ALIGNED WITH TARGET DATE 24:12:0000

[Thunderbird]

Nice work, Ash!  I loved the 'it needs dusting' part  !  Looking forward to fun with camels... (get your mind out of the gutter C'ren! )

[Chinaren]

I'm sure I don't know what you mean T!

Very nice chapter Ask!  Goat.  hehe.

One tiny tiny typo...

the thought Why?

I assume that should read then.

[NicTei]

Sorry Cren, but you're incorrect.  Go back and reread the sentence again and you'll see why, I believe.  Though you may have to read it with your correction in order to get it.

[Chinaren]

Ah, yes.  You are correct Nice.  Perhaps if the 'why' was in italics or something.

[ashkent]

You know I'm sure that why is in italics on the original copy of this. I must have missed it after pasting removed all the extras! Never mind...onwards we go.

[ashkent]

3.

A swift puff of gritty air blew through Grim’s eye sockets.

“I never did have a liking for donkeys,” he muttered, wafting a hand in front of his face and resisting the urge to use his scythe on the other end of the offending animal.

Grim surveyed the area beyond the asses in front of him, searching for some indication of where exactly they had landed.

The thought caused him to check that “they” had indeed arrived and he had not lost Pinkie in the transition of time. He need not have worried. The demon clung to his robe like a very large, appendage ridden leech.

“You can let go now,” Grim said, watching as fingers, toes and teeth were removed from the black material of his robe, leaving behind the expected rips and drippings of saliva.

“Arr ar arr?” Pinkie asked, steadying his balance and glancing up nervously at the swishing tail of a rather large donkey.

“I am not entirely sure. The vicinity looks vaguely familiar to me, but that can be said of all but the most obscure of places.”

“Arr ar arr ar ar ar ararar?” Pinkie suggested.

“Yes, places like the Black River of Nowhere, although I have considered visiting there for a little sightseeing trip.”

“Ar ar ar?”

“Just black things, I would presume. It would be nothing short of a disappointment if I found that the Black River turned out to be pink.”

Grim resumed his observation, noting the various ramshackle buildings and dusty roads. He could not recall being in this part of the Earth at this particular moment of time so there were any number of differences to be found. Through the oddities and the red herrings, Grim could still recall one building in particular.

A small stable situated off to the side of an Inn.

There are many moments in the life of an Immortal when memories and recollections are mingled with knowledge of the future as well as the collective images of the present. Having control over time only expanded the potential for confusion, and Grim believed himself to be one of very, very few who could make any claim to always separating one the here from the now and the then. Not that he would ever impress that he was superior for his ability. Not regularly at any rate.

“A child born in a stable,” he said. “A few days back judging by the lack of sheep walkers and rich men.”

“Arr ar ar ar?” Pinkie asked beside him.

“Yes, it was set to have us arrive before the child was born. The List’s precision tracker must be out of alignment. No matter though. We are still here and it seems to be close enough to the source of whatever is occurring.”

“Ar arara ar?”

“That is what we have to find out. If someone has made a change to history at this point in time, it has completely rewritten the future of the humans. I do not mean in the good way collecting that excitable man with the little moustache earlier than his timeline dictated did.”

“Arr ar ar arr?”

“I do not know how someone could change it. There are only two ways that someone could manage to create such an elaborate fissure in the history of time and neither of them are particularly palatable.”

A crowd of ragged clothed children ran by, their dirt smeared faces passing through Grim’s robes as though they were smoke.

Grim watched them run down the street, his gaze focussed on one in particular.

“I remember collecting him,” he said. “What a strange feeling. What was I saying again?”

“Arr ar arr ar ar ar ararar ar ar arrar,” Pinkie recited with unnecessary pride.

“Oh, yes. Either the culprit behind the chaotic alteration has Immortal powers of their own. Or they have located the only known device to defy the lawas of time.”

“Ar arrr arar?”

“Of course it worked. That was not just a story you know.”

“Arrar arra ar.”

“How did you read that? You struggle with every word that has more than two syllables.”

“Arr ar arar ar ar.”

“Oh you’ve only heard about it. Well that is different. I really thought someone had truly fucked up the world there. Anyway, I have not come to stand here in the street and discuss human literature with you of all people. I need to see what is happening inside.”

Grim led the way to the door, paused to ensure Pinkie was still by his side and not being distracted by a passing chicken, then stepped through the wooden panels.

It can be hard to image that Death could ever feel a sense of dread, but those acquainted with the frequent debacles that passed for his daily work would know otherwise.

Dread could describe Grim’s feelings when he stepped into the sacred stable.

“Oh Christ,” were the first words to escape him, only to be followed by the equally appropriate, “Jesus Christ Almighty.”

[Thunderbird]

  I figured this was where you were headed with the scene change.  You have me curious about the device that can defy the laws of time and what could have happened here in the [edited]manger[/edited] that would have changed the course of things to come.

[NicTei]

That'd be 'manger,' T.  I await the next chapter with trepidation.

[Thunderbird]

Ah yes... I thought it looked wrong...

[ashkent]

The new chapter should be up today or tomorrow. It's almost done...and the identity of the Time Defying Device will be revealed...although with it will come another mystery. The plot thickens.

[ashkent]

4.

“Arr ar ara?” Pinkie asked, looking around the hay-filled stable and focussing momentarily on the sleepy eyes of a sheep.

“Yes there should,” Grim said. “But clearly there isn’t unless he has been turned into a quadruped.”

Grim continued to stare at the space that should have contained a certain blessed child, but which currently contained the chewing mouths of three cows and a little donkey.

“Well at least we know we’ve found the right place,” Grim said, stroking his chin. “The question now, is if the baby is not here, then where is it? So much relies on him being here, especially the warning from – ”

A brilliant light illuminated the stable, startling the sheep and drawing curious glances from the cows. Grim lifted his gaze to the ceiling and waited for the glowing figure to descend into the room. If lacking an infant posed problems of a history altering nature, then this arrival saw the situation transform from a caterpillar of chaos to the butterfly of mankind’s apocalypse.

“Joseph!” the angelic being spoke, its eyes skyward. “I have been sent by God to warn you of great danger coming to –”

“AHEM,” Grim said in a voice always guaranteed to generate silence even from unworldly beings.

Gabriel dropped his head, sprouting a double chin and dimming his glow.

“What are you doing here?” the archangel asked. “You shouldn’t be here for a while yet.”

“I know that, but things have a habit of changing.”

Gabriel dropped to the floor, extinguishing his light and pulling his halo off his head. He scratched the back of his head and looked around at the bemused faces of three cows that recommenced chewing in unison.

“What’s Johnny decided to change this time?” Gabriel said, resting himself against the wall of the shed and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Johnny B God, the all powerful Managing Director of the Business of Life, was well known for his sudden changes to plans laid out in the many Life Forecasting meetings and Interplanetary Divisional Conferences that supported the running of Existence. It rarely surprised any member of the Immortal Personification Team to find that appointments had been cancelled or postponed, or that events meant to be occurring at a precise moment suddenly weren’t.

“Nothing that I know of,” Grim said. “Although that isn’t necessarily saying much. I think this is interference of a human nature.”

“I thought as much. You only seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time with the imp in tow when something distinctly human is on the table.”

Pinkie made a noise at being described as an imp, which for all intents and purposes still sounded pretty much like “Ar” with additional phlegm behind it. Grim often noticed how sensitive the demon could become over such slurs on his character. It was almost certain that any imps within earshot would have their own reaction to the comparison and it wouldn’t be pretty.

“I am never in the wrong place,” Grim returned, levelling the angel with a stare direct from a selection labelled unnerving. “Only the place I need to be to keep order.”

“I thought they had a special team for that kind of thing,” Gabriel said knowingly. “To keep the records in order and avoid unnecessary disruption to the Timelines of Creation.”

“Maybe,” Grim said without commitment. “I do not always read the memos though.”

“When did you come here from?” Gabriel asked.

“A couple of millenniums from now.”

“So you haven’t changed in the next two thousand years then. You’re still just as stubborn. I’m surprised Johnny allows you to get away with as much as you obviously do.”

Pinkie watched the words flying between the two immortal beings, unsure of what much of it meant but certain that there was something of an atmosphere developing. Then he realised it had been a silent fart and carefully began to move away to the doorway.

“We cannot all live such simple lives as you do. What level of messenger are you at the minute?”

“Imperial,” Gabriel said, then after a very short moment added, “For now.”

“I thought so,” Grim said, turning to sniff a peculiar odour behind him. “Maybe you are right after all.”

“About what?”

“Some things really do not change,” Grim said with a feeling of satisfaction. “Now, I have to find out who came back here to do this or none of us will have a job by the end of the week.”

“Who came back? Back from where?”

“The future,” Grim said. “Where else?”

Gabriel pushed himself from the wall, a perplexed look on his face.

“But you said this was human interference,” he said. “How could a human possibly travel here from the future?”

Grim paused before answering, aware that he was divulging information before it should be known. He decided that it could not make the situation any worse by sharing what he suspected.

“The only way I know it is possible,” Grim said carefully, “is that they have found Wells’ Time Machine.”

“Whose what?” Gabriel asked, his eyes wide. “There is a machine in existence that can travel back in time?”

“Technically not for a good few years but yes, one day there will be, and for at least a short time, it is somewhere nearby along with the reason for the recipient of your message not being here right now.”

“Do you think you need any help finding it?”

Grim grinned, as always. “I already know where it is.”

[Thunderbird]

Wells's Time Machine you say?  Hah!    I remember a Big Bang Theory episode about that...

This tale continues to be extremely entertaining Ash!

[Chinaren]

   Great stuff Ask!

[ashkent]

Just wait until the reveal of who is using the Time Machine...It will blow your mind. 

[Thunderbird]

Don't tell me its Sheldon!  Or Mr. Spock

[Chinaren]

Don't tell me its Sheldon!  Or Mr. Spock

 

[ashkent]

OK...I won't tell you.