Chapter 1 - The Bell Tolls For Thee
Cynthia sat at the kitchen table, her hand on her forehead as she looked down at the laptop, her banking site open with the vile red numbers seeming to throb on screen. Beside the laptop was a stack of paper, the top one was the electricity bill, her name on it and a giant red "OVERDUE" stamped across it. She let out a sigh and went back to her calendar, her next paycheck wasn't due until the new year now and there were bills and rent to pay before it arrived.
She clicked open a new tab and double-checked the credit card balance, it provided no relief as she scrolled back through the last few transactions that her daughter Miranda had charged to it.
Cynthia still couldn't quite figure out where she'd gone wrong raising Miranda, she'd done everything she could to keep the girl on the straight and narrow, but somewhere along the line she'd lost the connection to her. Now they were little more than roommates, and ones that fought at that.
Her computer binged as an e-mail arrived and her eyes darted to the notification, "Attn: Cynthia Bell - Overdu?".
"Ohhhhhh?" she let out in a moan as she let her head gently lower down and then tapped her forehead against the hard linoleum covered chipboard of the table.
Just then Miranda waddled into the kitchen, her normal frown quickly curled upwards into a smile at the sight of her mother's troubles. Without saying a word Miranda just walked over to the fridge, grabbed a beer and wandered out of the kitchen once more.
Cynthia just shook her head, ever since she'd become legal drinking age she hadn't even tried to hide her near alcoholism from her mother. She shook her head to dislodge the dark thoughts that tried to encroach and turned back to her computer, to fight the hopeless battle a little longer.
* * *
"Really Mom? I thought we were broke?" Miranda whined as Cynthia set the plate of cookies down before the glass of milk.
Cynthia rolled her eyes, "It's tradition?" she started to reply.
"Yeah, for a two-year-old! I'm 19 mother, I can fucking drink." Miranda said, as she shook the half-empty beer bottle in her hand.
"Oh don't I know it?" Cynthia said aloud in a sarcastic tone before she could bite her tongue and she winced a little once the words were out.
Cynthia stood upright and pushed some stray strands of short blonde hair from her face and over her ear, "It's not like I'm doing it for you dear." she managed to get out without it being too obvious she was lying.
"Umph? not like you've ever done anything for me." Miranda shot back.
Cynthia was tired, she'd had to work a double shift at the diner, on Christmas eve, to try and make enough money so they didn't get evicted, and all Miranda could do was shoot venom toward her.
"Well be that as it may, have you had any luck getting a job?" Cynthia asked, knowing full well the answer.
"No." Miranda shot back in an exasperated tone, as if the world owned her one, "No one will accept me for who I am, they all want me to dress a certain way, or be able to lift a certain amount. As if?"
Cynthia tried to keep her head still, to not swing it from side to side, but only half succeeded. Her daughter dressed like a high school goth girl and refused to change even in the slightest to get a job.
"Well, you're going to have to find something soon. I can't keep working doubles to try and make rent, we'll either have to move somewhere cheaper or I'll have to find a roommate?"
Miranda glared at her mother, the implied threat was that Cynthia would have to kick her out as the small apartment they lived in only had two bedrooms, the small living room they were in and a kitchen.
"Whatever? I'm going to bed. Good luck with the milk and cookies?" Miranda replied and then stomped off down the hallway that lead to the bedrooms.
Cynthia took a deep breath and sat down on the couch for a moment. She closed her eyes and thought back to all those years ago when Miranda was small and the fun that they'd had during Christmas eve together.
She opened her eyes and looked at the Christmas tree, artificial as it was and showing its age with a few missing branches and several burned-out bulbs. The ornaments were old and faded, but they were sentimental and she wouldn't have it any other way. Then she glanced past the stockings hung in front of the TV to the string of Christmas cards that hung above it.
Chapter 2 - Sleigh Bells Ringing
Nick stood on the rooftop, one foot up on his red sleigh, as the reindeer shuffled anxiously in place. It had served him well, though it looked a little worse for wear these days. The pain was starting to chip, with the bare wood showing through in a few places, the green fabric of the seats and upholstery were ragged and had a few holes worn in them from his ass.
He stroked his short grey beard as the bells on the deer softly chimed against the backdrop of the city that held his attention. Sirens were blaring, he could hear gunshots ring out in the distance, and a cold shiver ran through him. The world had gone to hell in a hand basket in the last few hundred years and he knew it only too well. But the pace of the decline in the last decade or two surprised even him.
Three years ago, on his last visit to this very city, he'd run into the cops. Those trigger-happy goons had put three bullets in his chest and another right between his eyes. The memory of Prancer and Vixen trotting around the squad cars, the cops impaled on their antlers, still brought a smile to his face.
Being immortal had its upsides, but one of them wasn't an immunity to pain, and those bastards got what was coming to them, and it hadn't been a lump of coal.
A smirk cross his lips as he reached into the pocket of his red and white jacket and pulled out his list, the magic scroll unravelled to reveal two names at the top of it, one on the Naughty list and one on the Nice list, Cynthia Bell and Miranda Bell.
