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The Happy Horror
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2019 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: Jolly (special condition: 365 words, excluding header and ‘end’)
The Elves of Faerie were created by
tegerio Check his stuff out, and join his Patreon page!
______________________________________________________________
Every Elf in the Kingdom’s northern capital, Albric Tor, knew that the fateful day was coming. Those who could managed to flee south, while those who couldn’t run did whatever they could to prevent the Royal Herald from proclaiming that winter had come to Faerie.
The bells of the Cathedral rang, and horrified faces scanned the sky.
Albric Tor saw its first snowfall of the season, as the snow fell all at once within the precincts of the capital with an audible FWUMMPH, covering the entire city in a cold white blanket. Heads poked up out of the snow, and the furs cringed at the dreaded hunting cry of The Kringle.
“Ho ho ho!”
It was too late.
The hapless Elves caught in the snowy city were immediately clapped into close-fitting, hideous red and green velvet vestments equipped with small jingling bells. They were then rounded up and forced to build toys, for what dark reason only The Kringle knew, while magically-powered music machines wheezed a terrifyingly cheerful chant:
“We’re the Kringle’s Elves;
Run and save yourselves,
We’re stuck making toys
To this damned noise
We’re The Kringle’s Elves.
We work hard all day,
While this music plays;
It’s beyond all doubt
We can’t get out -
To Fuma we all pray!
It happens every year,
This season we all fear;
The King did a prang
Before the bells rang
Now we’re all stuck here!”
Looming over the ranks of tool-wielding Elves, cowing them into acquiescence by his mere presence, is the red-clad figure of The Kringle, laughing sinisterly as he oversees the production of toy vehicles, stuffed ants, talking dolls, and archery play sets. He will pause, and laugh as his massive belly shakes alarmingly, the brass buttons on his suit gleaming in the light of the torches.
At the end of each day, the Elves go home to eat a meal of steamed pudding and a thick cream mixture called a ‘nog,’ then to catch a few hours of troubled sleep before being roused to continue making toys. A few dream of Spring, when the snows will melt and drive The Kringle north again to the Wild Snows.
Until it all happens again.
___________________________________________________
End.
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2019 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: Jolly (special condition: 365 words, excluding header and ‘end’)
The Elves of Faerie were created by
tegerio Check his stuff out, and join his Patreon page!______________________________________________________________
Every Elf in the Kingdom’s northern capital, Albric Tor, knew that the fateful day was coming. Those who could managed to flee south, while those who couldn’t run did whatever they could to prevent the Royal Herald from proclaiming that winter had come to Faerie.
The bells of the Cathedral rang, and horrified faces scanned the sky.
Albric Tor saw its first snowfall of the season, as the snow fell all at once within the precincts of the capital with an audible FWUMMPH, covering the entire city in a cold white blanket. Heads poked up out of the snow, and the furs cringed at the dreaded hunting cry of The Kringle.
“Ho ho ho!”
It was too late.
The hapless Elves caught in the snowy city were immediately clapped into close-fitting, hideous red and green velvet vestments equipped with small jingling bells. They were then rounded up and forced to build toys, for what dark reason only The Kringle knew, while magically-powered music machines wheezed a terrifyingly cheerful chant:
“We’re the Kringle’s Elves;
Run and save yourselves,
We’re stuck making toys
To this damned noise
We’re The Kringle’s Elves.
We work hard all day,
While this music plays;
It’s beyond all doubt
We can’t get out -
To Fuma we all pray!
It happens every year,
This season we all fear;
The King did a prang
Before the bells rang
Now we’re all stuck here!”
Looming over the ranks of tool-wielding Elves, cowing them into acquiescence by his mere presence, is the red-clad figure of The Kringle, laughing sinisterly as he oversees the production of toy vehicles, stuffed ants, talking dolls, and archery play sets. He will pause, and laugh as his massive belly shakes alarmingly, the brass buttons on his suit gleaming in the light of the torches.
At the end of each day, the Elves go home to eat a meal of steamed pudding and a thick cream mixture called a ‘nog,’ then to catch a few hours of troubled sleep before being roused to continue making toys. A few dream of Spring, when the snows will melt and drive The Kringle north again to the Wild Snows.
Until it all happens again.
___________________________________________________
End.
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 120 x 92px
File Size 35.5 kB
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