Connect with us

Published

on

Billy placed the red plate of sparking sugar crystal covered cookies at Santa’s feet.  The aroma of freshly baked cinnamon and cloves almost covered up the smell of fresh blood.  

“I promise I’ve been good this year, Santa.” Billy said, almost like it mattered.  Santa had missed his house last year.  Billy was sure it was just a misunderstanding he didn’t get his hammer and tacks, or the whip that cracks like he’d asked for.  It couldn’t have been because of the dead squirrel he’d snuck into the girl’s lunchbox at school. That had been a funny joke.  She’d made such a fuss about it even though it was already dead.  

He’d made absolutely sure that Santa would have to let him explain what a good boy he’d been this year.  The tripwire he’d strung in front of the Christmas tree had worked like a charm, Santa hadn’t seen it at all. He’d fallen headfirst on the hearth stones by the fire and knocked himself out cold.  Silly old elf.  Now he was laying in a growing pool of blood that Billy kept using Santa’s red hat to wipe up.  Santa would be okay, he was magic after all.  

Honestly, Billy hadn’t even been all that bad this year.  He could only think of one time he’d gotten scolded. When he had put weed killer in Freddy McCooly’s water bottle at soccer practice and then laughed when he drank it.  It wasn’t his fault Freddy’s head looked just like a fuzzy yellow dandelion.  Really, he’d been doing him a favor.  Besides, Freddy was going to be fine.  Mostly.  

Okay, and last week too, if he was being truthful, which he was because that’s what good little boys were. Of course, one knew about this one so it didn’t really count, but he was prepared to admit it if Santa brought it up. The head of baby Jesus in the church’s large outdoor nativity scene had been replaced with a dead possum head he’d found on his way to school.  Seeing batty old Ms. Conner from across the street taken away in an ambulance when she’d found it the next day before going to Mass had been especially satisfying. He’d always hated her dumb, fat garden gnomes he keep tripping over when he went to pee on her rose bushes. It wasn’t like he was the one that gave her a bad heart though, so Santa could surely forgive him those minor things when he woke up.

That’s when Billy noticed the blow poke, the long metal tube with the barbed hook on the end that Daddy used to stir and blow on the fire.  Santa had landed right on top of it.  Billy picked up the end of the blow poke and yanked on it.  It was stuck fast underneath Santa’s enormous belly.  

He yanked again, this time even harder.  There was a distinct ripping sound of cloth and flesh tearing as Billy fell backwards and landed on this butt in an undignified huff, the bloody blow poke clutched tightly in his hand.  Everything looked okay for a second, then the side of Santa exploded, a flood of squishy red and pink meats leaked out.  Billy scurried back out of the way but still got some on his favorite reindeer slippers.  

“Eww. Gross, Santa,” Billy exclaimed, and kicked Santa’s body with his now blood-covered slippered foot.  

None of this was going the way Billy planned.  Maybe if he just put everything back where it was supposed to go.  The long gooey intestine was slippery in his hands and the cut in the side of Santa they had come out of didn’t want to fit them back in.  Billy finally got frustrated enough he threw them in the fireplace instead.  They cracked and popped cheerily, smelling a little of the sausage his mother made in the mornings and poop.

Santa looked a bit deflated now. He let out a low painful groan as Billy poked him in the face with the bloody end of the blowpoke. He couldn’t be hurt too bad if he was still making noise.  If anything, Billy could stuff him with some of the red tinsel from the tree as a replacement, and, he giggled, maybe a bowl of strawberry jelly from the fridge.  

Billy had worn himself out with all that yanking and mopping.  He sat down cross legged in front of the plate of cookies he’d brought Santa earlier and reached for one with a bloody hand.  Santa would forgive him for eating one of his cookies.  Santa would forgive him for a lot of things.  Billy wouldn’t let him go until he did. 

Continue Reading
1 Comment

1 Comment

  1. Jennifer Weigel

    December 21, 2020 at 8:25 am

    Snips and snails and puppy dogs tails… with a side of murder…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Lighter than Dark

LTD Tripped Out Motivational Posters

Published

on

Tripped out… in case you just couldn’t get enough of Everything Everywhere All at Once and the return of the infinite bagel with EVERYTHING on it…

Tripped Out motivational poster
Tripped Out motivational poster

Artwork description: kaleidoscopic image of pink hairy horror (This is actually a fink fuzzy frond plant not unlike a Cockscomb but with longer thinner flowering feelers rather than the fuller protuberances you see on a full-bodied Cockscomb plant. I have no idea what it was, but it was very odd so I had to snap a photo.)

Image text reads: Mixing Magic Mushrooms & Peyote Just remember: once you open that Pandora’s box, you’re never going to get the pink hairy tarantulas back in it…

Tripped Out seeing eye god sunflower
Tripped Out seeing eye god sunflower

Artwork description: kaleidoscopic sunflower backlit by the sun with text and rainbow eye overlay

Image text reads: Eye See You Eye See All (in circle text so you can start and end reading wherever). In an ideal context this would be printed in the bottom of your tea mug or on a record that can slowly spin.

For more crazy tripped out fun, check out Weird Al’s post on Craig’s List

Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.

Continue Reading

Original Creations

The Elves Reunion, a short story by Jennifer Weigel

Published

on

An Elven portal in the woods, emerging from stone and forest floor.
An Elven portal in the woods, emerging from stone and forest floor.

I had heard tale that The Elves dwell in these woods.  Many underestimate The Elves; they have a fondness of heart for Tolkienesque Middle Earth fantasy stories and tales where Elves are the most highly civilized, virtuous and intelligent.  They forget that those are just myths, save for The Elves being cunning.  Remember that the Pied Piper was an Elf, and the children he took were not destined for such a glorious fate.

My sister lost her firstborn to The Elves.  She hadn’t noticed the Changeling until it was too late.  Her baby had already long since been stolen away.  She was so distraught she refused to eat or speak.  She locked herself in her room.  Or my family locked her into it as she succumbed to the madness.  Such are the ways of the family, for all of our protection.  We never question but follow as expected, as a means of self-preservation.  It has kept us all alive.

But I couldn’t get the sinking feeling out of my stomach; the grief became too overwhelming. That is why I came here.  I know I will not be able to rescue the child, nor my sister.  But I seek to avenge their meaningless deaths.  To ensure that it doesn’t happen again.  My family will never act.  I am tired of the Village Elders just shrugging these things off in hushed whispers and badly shrouded secrets.  It happens time and again.  We are all expendable.  They never do anything.

So here I am, in the Elven wood.  Alone.  As soon as my family figures out that I’m here, they will disown me.  They probably already have.  Again, it is for our own protection.  I’ll be just another casualty of The Elves.  Everything is so structured, so regimented.  Anyone who dares act in opposition to the rules vanishes.  We are all so afraid.

I lay in wait.  It’s just a matter of time before the portal appears.  The Elves use the portals to travel across time and space.  They appear where and when they wish.  But this time, I will go through first.  I know not what is on the other side, just that the portals allow only one to traverse in each direction.  We will trade places, if only for a moment until another portal forms.  Hopefully that will be enough time.

The trees shift and morph.  Falling leaves drift slower and slower towards the ground.  There is a stillness that I cannot fully express.  My breath hangs heavy in the silent air.  There is no sound, no smell, no taste.  It is time.  The hairs on the back of my neck and arms rise. I can sense the opening forming.  There is an uncanny familiarity in this moment, as if I have been here before.

As soon as the portal opens, I dash through.  But something isn’t right.  No one came through from the other side.  Or did they?  I cannot tell.  I am alone, in limbo between states of existence.  The world spins around me.  I can feel the drift.  Is this what death feels like?  Cold unbroken silence?  I feel distant eyes upon me everywhere, all around me, in the trees, the clouds, pinpoints of light that shimmer through.

I can feel The Elves eyes upon me everywhere.  In the leaves, in the trees themselves.
I can feel The Elves eyes upon me everywhere. In the leaves, in the trees themselves.

I wasn’t sure what to expect.  Maybe this is all according to plan.  But who was orchestrating the exchange?  My idea was only half formed in those passing pensive moments I am able to think for myself, few and far between.  My family, the Village Elders… no one allows time for freeform thought.  I hadn’t considered what would happen after the portal exchange.  I never really got past step one.

A voice greets me from the trees.  It is hauntingly familiar but seems only a distant memory.

“I’ve been expecting you.”

The world slowly comes into focus.  Clarity restored, the leaves circle me in an embrace.  My sister emerges, her dark eyes smiling.  She cradles the baby in her arms.

“You made it.  You escaped,” she sings.

“I didn’t see anyone,” I retort, skeptical.  I hadn’t recalled having seen any Elves, dark nightmarish fiends that they are, wild, unkempt, uncouth.  Savage beasts like Pan or Krampus.  Is this an illusion?  My sister seems so lifelike, so much herself.  She is the joyful young mother I had known her to be.  Filled with love and laughter.  Light dances about her, and she shimmers.

“Not in passing,” my sister clarifies.  “You have been living among them your whole life.  I had done so as well until the baby was stolen.  My heart broke; I had to follow after.  That was when I learned the Truth.”

“Why do you think we are so sheltered?  Why are we forbidden to do anything?  They do so to protect us from the Truth about who and what we are,” she continued.  “We’ve spent our lives evading that which we truly know ourselves to be.  We were the stolen ones, not the other way around…”

I notice that the portal I came through is still open, reinforcing my idea that no one had passed through the other way.  It is as if the portal was opened specifically to call me through. My sister extends her hand, beckoning me to join her.  There is a gleam in her eye I cannot pinpoint.  She seems happy, but something still isn’t quite right.  I’m still uncertain why I am here, in this time and place, as if destined to be present in this moment, in this decision.

The Village has fallen away to the woods.  There are no breadcrumb trails to follow home.  The idea of home itself seems distant like yet another illusion.  Nothing makes sense anymore.  I am unsure whether I am coming or going.  Two paths lay open before me.  Which shall I take?

The Elves portal remains but the path is unclear.
The Elves portal remains but the path is unclear.

The trees are full of Elven magicks… Feel free to check out more of Jennifer Weigel’s work here on Haunted MTL or on her writing, fine art, and conceptual projects websites.

Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.
Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.

Continue Reading

Original Creations

Eye Candy Jewelry by Jennifer Weigel

Published

on

I have been getting ready for a jewelry show in February and thought I’d share some of the fun eye candy necklaces I’ve been working on. Do they thwart or attract the Evil Eye? I think that depends largely on the wearer’s intentions… Each is hand-beaded and features a spooky printed eyeball pendant as its focus.

And the piece de resistance… A RAINBOW Evil Eye necklace with magnesite stone skulls! I love these happy little deadheads – they are just too spoopy… I have seen these beads ranging in size from very small to huge and I love all of them.

Eye Candy Necklace by Jennifer Weigel with rainbow Evil Eye and magnesite stone skulls
Eye Candy Necklace by Jennifer Weigel with rainbow Evil Eye and magnesite stone skulls

I love using eyes in art in weird and unusual contexts in my art. They have so much presence and symbolism. They also bring a sort of surreal atmosphere to any artwork, which bears just a hint of spookiness regardless of context.

Other artworks & graphics by myself that prominently feature eyes have appeared here on Haunted MTL in Insomnia, Indecision, Illuminati, Carriage Factory art installation, The Watchers, The Red Key, and Shaman Sticks.

You can check out some of my Hauntings jewelry on Haunted MTL here, and more jewelry is featured on my website here.

Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.
Portrait of myself with dark makeup and crow skull headdress, backlit by the sun.

Continue Reading

Trending