Happy Ghoulidays

By Shannon Lawrence

Family time can lead to murder and mayhem, especially during the holidays. A turkey with a tale to tell, elves under attack, sorority sisters putting on a killer party, a woman's desperation to save her family, and a stranger ringing in the New Year. These and other tales of woe await you beneath the mistletoe.

Be careful who you offer a kiss. It may be your last.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shannon Lawrence
• Release date: Nov 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781732031449

Shannon Lawrence

A fan of all things fantastical and frightening, Shannon Lawrence writes in her dungeon when her minions allow, often accompanied by her familiars. She writes primarily horror and fantasy. Her stories can be found in over fifty anthologies and magazines, and her collections and nonfiction title are available from various retailers. You can also find her as a co-host of the podcast “Mysteries, Monsters, & Mayhem.” When she's not writing, she's hiking through the wilds of Colorado and photographing her magnificent surroundings. Though she often misses the Oregon coast, the majestic and rugged Rockies are a sight she could never part with. Besides, in Colorado there's always a place to hide a body or birth a monster. What more could she ask for? Find her at thewarriormuse.com or mysteriesmonstersmayhem.com.

Book preview

Happy Ghoulidays

Shannon Lawrence

Happy Ghoulidays © 2020 Shannon Lawrence

Warrior Muse Press

TheWarriorMuse.com

Cover Design © 2020 Jeff Lawrence

Author Photo © 2015 Jared Hagan

Cover Image Christmas Decorations on the Branches of Fir Tree © 2017 gilmanshin | Depositphotos.com

Cover Image Demon with Tentacles © 2020 A. Dina | Shutterstock.com

Cover Font - Titles – Foul Fiend © 2020 Chad Savage | 1001 Free Fonts

Cover Font - Author - Wicked Grit © 2011 AJ Paglia | 1001 Free Fonts

Publisher's Note:

No portion of this book may be reproduced by any means, mechanical, electronic, or otherwise, without first obtaining the permission of the copyright holder.

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination even when sharing a name with a real entity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. If any of these events have happened to you, this is a terrifying coincidence, and you lead a scary life. We should have coffee.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase another copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

The Tell-Tale Turkey

Last Elf Standing

The Monster and the Golem

In Flames Reborn

Deck the Halls with Guts & Madness

First Foot, Final Foot

Rodent Rampage

Blind Date

Story Notes

Acknowledgments

About the Author

The Tell-Tale Turkey

Terry shoved a loose lock of hair behind her ear before registering that her fingers were covered in sweet potato pulp. Too late to do anything about it. Maybe sweet potato was good for hair. And ears.

She scrambled to peel the loosened skins off the boiled sweet potatoes, ignoring the heat that burned through the pads of her fingers until it registered all the way up her spine. She dropped the potato she held onto the counter and blew on her fingers before rushing over to the sink to put them under cool water. No matter how hard she tried to prep for Thanksgiving dinner ahead of time, she always ended up under some press of time. Which meant she always ended up trying to peel too hot sweet potatoes, because she didn’t leave enough time for sufficient cooling after she dumped out the boiling water.

Last night she’d made the cranberry sauce, peeled and chopped russet potatoes and put them in cool water in preparation for making fresh mashed potatoes today, prepped the green bean casserole, and made a pumpkin roll using the recipe on a can of pumpkin. This morning she’d gotten the turkey ready and slipped it into the oven, plus started some bread rolls rising in the hot kitchen.

She’d also done as much cleaning last night as possible. It had taken her until two in the morning to get the cleaning and prep done for today, and she’d gotten up at six this morning to continue getting ready for the annual invasion of family happening in—a quick look at the digital clock on the microwave—just over an hour. There was still so much to do.

The good thing about being so frantically busy in preparation for family is that she didn’t have time to dwell on what had happened two days ago between her and her husband Matt. It wouldn’t take long for her family to notice he wasn’t here for Thanksgiving dinner. Then the inundation of questions would commence. Despite having thought about it obsessively for the last forty-eight hours, she still wasn’t sure what lies she’d be using. They definitely wouldn’t be hearing the truth. She’d never live down the humiliation. Her older brother would judge how irresponsible she was. Her parents would cluck in that disappointed way they had. And her younger sister would probably just laugh at her since she was constantly angry about anything Terry ever accomplished, and therefore delighted in her failures.

Luckily, Thanksgiving was for Terry’s family and Christmas was for Matt’s family, so she wouldn’t have to deal with her in-laws at all yet. Christmas was just a month away, though, and they would be the next big hurdle. At least that gave her time to think about what to do next. Given, the chances of them going a month without a phone call were slim.

Her sweet potato-crusted hair flopped back into her face, and she shoved it back once again. Turning on the oven light, she checked on the progress of the turkey. It took up the entire lower oven, golden and gorgeous in the amber light. The delicious aroma of cooking poultry escaped, the juices simmering with a luscious burble. She could just make out the hint of sage and garlic from the stuffing and the butter rub she’d massaged into the skin.

Mouthwatering, she pre-heated the upper oven for the green bean casserole and sweet potato soufflé. There was just enough room to put the bread rolls in with the turkey. All that remained was to beat the butter and spices into the soufflé and arrange fried onions on top of the green beans. She grabbed the hand mixer out of the lower cabinet, knocking the electric carving knife off the shelf. Her mouth dried immediately, and she wrestled a swallow down her throat. Matt always carved the turkey; she had no idea how. Maybe her dad would do it instead.

Speaking of her dad, he loved the giblets, so she always saved them for him and cooked them up, using turkey drippings for the gravy rather than making a giblet-based one. He’d be the least of her worries today. Always a bit reserved, he’d leave the questions up to her mother. However, he and Matt had always gotten along. He’d definitely wonder where his Thanksgiving football buddy was. They both had a tendency to disappear as soon as the food had been consumed. She wasn’t sure if he’d be happy to do it solo, or if he’d miss the sympatico company. Her dad and Matt were really two sides of the same coin, something she’d felt a bit Freudian about once she’d made the connection. At least there hadn’t been an ongoing testosterone war between the two like she’d seen with some of her friends’ pairings.

Once she slid everything into the oven, she ran to clean the bathroom. That, the kitchen, and the vacuuming were the final prep steps, and then she might actually have time to go upstairs, try to get the sweet potato out of her hair, and maybe put on something that wasn’t covered with flour and other vestiges of the meal preparations.

Scrubbing the toilet was so much easier without Matt in the house. He always managed to get urine around the base, if not on the seat. In fact, he’d usually get the rim of the toilet seat so that a passing glance made it look clean, but she still ended up planting her ass on a piss-damp rim. Nothing like a moderately damp backside to make a woman feel good about herself. She hoped his mistress had enjoyed cleaning up after him. Or had they just met at hotels the whole time, so some poor employee had to sop it up?

Terry shook her head to chase the thoughts away. It didn’t matter. She’d never have to deal with him again. He and the mistress had broken up, too, or so he claimed when she confronted him about it. He said he’d done the breaking up, but Terry figured it was probably the other way around. Matt had never been one to give up a good thing. He preferred keeping it all to himself. Always a glutton.

Glutton. Of all the days to be insulting about that. Thanksgiving was the holiday for gluttons. Everyone had a taste of that inside them. They’d all stuff themselves today, consume an insane amount of calories in the form of food, alcohol, and desserts. At least this year she’d put others in charge of the dessert and the alcohol. Usually she did it all. Facing down a cheating husband and the dissolution of a ten-year marriage, she’d finally, after all these years, put her foot down and handed out some of her usual duties to others. They were even bringing appetizers and paper goods. The only thing she wondered was how it had taken her this long to do it.

At least Christmas was at her in-laws’ house.

Well, it would have been if her husband wasn’t such a prick. And shit in bed. How a man like him could get a mistress, let alone keep her for any period of time was a mystery. If Terry hadn’t been so virginal that she’d insisted on waiting until marriage to have sex, she would have known what she was getting into. That first brief fumbling experience on their wedding night had been eye opening, but she’d figured it would get better as the years passed. Nope.

Damn it! She shook her head again and started singing Jingle Bells to drum the negative thoughts out of her head. She continued with a litany of songs from musicals, her youth, Christmas. Even Yankee Doodle Dandy. Anything to keep herself from hyper-focusing on Matt again. It kept her going through the bathroom cleaning, mopping, and most of her vacuum job.

Then the doorbell rang. Twenty minutes early. Great.

She ran to the door, tucking her crusty hair behind its ear once again. So much for trying to get that out or changing her clothes. A quick look down at herself showed quite a mishmash of dinner spooge. Every year she thought about the fact that an apron would be a good idea, but she would never remember to use it even if she bought it, so she didn’t bother.

Stop delaying, she whispered to herself.

A twist of the knob, and she opened the door to her older brother and his wife. It always surprised her how alike the couple looked. Both brunette with similar hair length (he wore his a tad long, while she kept hers pretty short), the same level of attractiveness, only one-inch difference in height, so on and so forth. Their eyes were different colors, but that was it. She’d noticed this among couples, though. Like dogs and their owners, couples often ended up looking like each other eventually. Maybe the fact that she and Matt looked more different than ever should have been her first clue that they wouldn’t work out.

Hi guys, come on in!

Now began the effusive holiday dance, where everyone acted cheerier than they actually felt. One would think family could be themselves when together, but that never seemed to be the case with hers.

They piled in behind her, and she led them to the living room. The timer for the oven went off just in time for her to hand her brother the remote and jog into the kitchen to remove the casseroles, giblets, and rolls. She took the temperature of the turkey and found it to be finished, too. Good, she could throw herself into finishing everything up instead of making small talk until there were more people here. Time to gather drippings for gravy.

Only her sister-in-law came in and spoiled it. Hey, Terry, Tim put on some stupid news show, so I figured I’d come see if you need any help.

Um, you can start pulling the cold stuff out of the fridge. Oh! And I need to get the potatoes boiling. I should have already started that. Terry ran over to the cupboard where she kept the pots and pans. Here, I’ll—

I’ve got it. Layla took the pot from her and put it under the tap to fill it with water.

Great, thanks!

Terry had never gotten used to having help in the kitchen. It’s not like Matt had ever helped her, so the offers only came at various gatherings, and she didn’t know how to delegate the jobs when it seemed easier just to do it herself. As she watched Layla move around the kitchen and get things going, she realized it might not be so bad after all. Not something