Tales of Christmas Villains: The Tales Short Story Collection, #2

By D. C. Gomez, Jamie Dalton, Stephanie B. Whitfield and 2 more

Ruined holiday plans and stolen gifts are only the beginning in this collection of villains gone wild for the holidays!

Tales of Christmas Villains brings together the most mischievous batch of scrooges, thieves, and humbugs out to wreak havoc on the Christmas cheer.

 

Featuring a chilling ice fairy who feeds on her victims' souls, chaotic criminals disguised as grinches, and the infamous Jack Frost meeting his match in a plucky mermaid, these wicked adventures will have you howling with dark delight.

 

If you think you've got enough spirit to take on these troublemakers, think again. The naughty list just got longer and more sinister! So watch out this season and prepare for some seriously spirited scroogery - Tales of Christmas Villains is coming to town!

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.A.L.E.S.
• Release date: Nov 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223656104

Book preview

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Copyright © 2003 by T.A.L.E.S.

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

On the 12 days of Christmas, my interns gave to me…

A letter from The Librarian (that's me!)

A Yuletide Spell For a Grump by Jamie Dalton

Ginger's Magical Peppermint Hot Cocoa

Kamakazi Grinches A Bartholomew the Reaper Adventure by D. C. Gomez

Cream Cheese Chicken Enchiladas *Constantine Approved*

The Ice Fairy by Stephanie B. Whitfield

Monkey Butt *Banana Sheet Cake*

How the Grinch Stole Ms. Christmas by Stephanie K. Clemens

Beef Dip from the Village Diner

Poutine from the Village Diner

Frosted- A Christmas Story by Teshelle Combs

F*** Christmas: A Waffle Recipe by Jack Frost

Well, hello my dear Reader,

After the enormous success of our Halloween collection with the public (Tales of Howloween), T.A.L.E.S. has tasked me with the publication of a Christmas one. The success of that publication is something I’m highly concerned with. That collection was meant as an internal document for you, our dear benefactor. But T.A.L.E.S. has a mind of its own, and it’s enjoying the recent fame.

To clarify, in case you come across this collection without my knowledge, T.A.L.E.S. is the largest and most magnificent repository of information in both the human and the supernatural world. While T.A.L.E.S. is technically a library, it has a sentient mind. Right now, I’m sure it’s enjoying playing with my emotions. The fact it wants a collection while we are in the middle of a crisis is beyond me.

Due to all the usual storms in the Pacific, our secured entrance to that side of the world is underwater. Let’s be honest, there is a reason it was named Pacific. It is supposed to be calm and well behaved, not like its sibling that wild Atlantic. With this crisis at hand, you can only imagine what this means. We must preserve and rescue all that knowledge. Of course, as The Librarian for T.A.L.E.S. it is my duty to make sure that gets done.

Now that I have three new interns (I don’t want to discuss that process again. But you can find all the details of that fiasco in the Halloween publication). It’s only fair that I task them with this critical mission. I’m not exactly sure why they are upset. Christmas is only one day out of the year. Canceling that day was the only prudent course of action for this mission. Losing those books, parchments, and even scrolls would be a devastation to the universe. They just need to hurry and move them to the Dead Sea area. It’s only thirteen thousand books, not that big of a deal.

I just don’t understand all their complaining. Somehow, their muttering can be heard throughout the Library. For librarian interns, you would think they would know the first rule is silence. Nobody wants to hear whining about pruni-hands. Unfortunately, The Library thinks they might need a break (like we actually have time). I have assigned them the compilation of this collection. This would be a great teaching moment of what a true Christmas Villain looks like. I have selected several short stories to give them a better perspective on their situation.

Please do me a huge favor, since I’m very busy and you are already reading this collection. Monitor anything that looks unusual on these pages. I have heard humors say that they have added secret messages throughout the document. Since I do not have time to review the final manuscript, I need your assistance for the quality control process. Just send me a note, no need to come in person. I do break into hives at the sight of too many humans.

Now, back to this collection. Because of this latest emergency, this collection will be fairly short. We do have work here. To prove that I’m a caring and understanding supervisor, I have allowed two of the interns to include their most recent tales in the collection. It’s also important to point out that one of my dear Interns just happens to be the personal journalists to our biggest benefactor (no Constantine, I’m definitely not complaining). Something he failed to mention, and now it seems his life is being immortalized in print. Not going to ponder that anymore.

By the way, I’m still looking for Jamie Dalton, my third intern. While you are doing me that favor, please keep an eye out for her as well. Why am I paying for three and only have two show up? I just wish they could make a decent cup of coffee. Somehow, my cups seem to get stronger and stronger as the hours go on. Also, why do I have the Twelve Days of Christmas stuck in my head? Never mind!

It is time you enjoy this collection. Looking forward to your report. On a personal note, because I like you, avoid folding the pages of this book. We have fines for that as well.

Happy reading

The Librarian

Intern notes:

DC: Hey Magnetra, isn’t Irish Cream the same as half and half?

Magnetra: What? No! Why?

DC: Oops.

Magnetra: Oops? What happened?

DC: Nothing. Don’t worry about it. (Note to self- do not make The Librarians café con leche with Irish Cream- not milk). By the way, she does know we are the ones typing these and can read her comments, right?

Magnetra: That’s a great question. But did you know we were getting paid?

DC: We are? As much as I love reading, books don’t count as payment.

Magnetra: We need a plan. Time for operation Escape from Library- let’s go.

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High atop the snow-capped peak of Mount Snifflefrost sat an icy cave mouth, crudely ringed with half-finished wreaths of barbed wire and jagged icicles that glinted dangerously in the winter sun. Hand-painted signs reading, Caution: No Christmas Cheer Beyond This Point! and Turn Back Now or Face Beck’s Wrath! marred the exterior in chaotic lettering.

Beyond the foreboding entrance, a dark and winding passage snaked deep into the mountainside. Icicles hung threateningly overhead, leading the way down the gloomy tunnel. The walls and floor were covered in a slick sheet of ice that seemed to repel any warmth or light that dared enter this frigid domain.

In the deepest chamber, the lair opened up into a vast cavern with high ceilings lost in shadow. Strange contraptions cluttered every icy surface, from rickety workbenches to makeshift shelves carved crudely into the unforgiving rock. Half-finished gadgets powered by jars of bubbling, glowing potions hummed and whirred ominously, echoing off the cavern walls.

In one corner, a bookshelf carved from the pale blue ice was crammed with ominous titles like, Wreck the Halls: A Guide to Ruining Holidays and Silencing Carolers: A Beginner’s Guide. Pages torn from Christmas books littered the floor like fallen snowflakes, along with discarded prototype ideas for holiday-destroying inventions.

At a work table made from refrozen icicles, Beck tinkered by the dim light of a single glowing bulb. His emerald eyes glinted with wicked delight as he lovingly sharpened an arsenal of ice axes, snowball bazookas, and other nefarious tools designed specifically to rain down chaos onto Wildmire’s Christmas celebrations.

Nearby, Ember the dragon snored, billowing small puffs of smoke as he dreamed of the destruction sure to come. In an icy side room, the remains of Beck’s previous schemes lay in failure, perfectly preserved in the sub-zero cold. Piles of explosive fruitcakes that never detonated. A vat of frozen mistletoe that failed to freeze anyone in place for the dastardly kissing ambush. Here in this frigid sanctum, Beck’s every Christmas-hating thought and invention came alive.

Beck paused his tinkering to let out a slow, menacing cackle that echoed off the cavern walls and down the lonely passageways. Soon, very soon, he and Ember would embark into Wildmire once more to unleash their icy brand of holiday havoc.

Beck scowled as he peered down at Wildmire from the mouth of his cave on Mount Snifflefrost. The normally quaint houses and shops were now strung up with colorful lights and wreaths. The square was filled with a massive fir tree ready to be lit. He hated Christmas with every fiber of his being, and despised how the foolishly cheerful villagers insisted on celebrating it every year with increasing extravagance.

They’ll be singing songs and screeching merry tidings all season long, Beck grumbled to his faithful dragon, Ember, while pacing around the dark cave. Ember let out a small puff of smoke in agreement, his orange eyes cracked open from his slumber and watched his master’s frustration build.

An idea formed in Beck’s wicked mind. With Ember flapping his great red leathery wings along behind, Beck strode over to his invention corner inside the gloomy cave. Various tools and parts lay scattered across the rough stone floor. Grabbing an odd assortment of pipes, gears, drums of mysterious bubbling liquids, and scrapped machine bits, Beck cobbled together a strange contraption meant to launch icy projectiles through the air. He would rain down wet snowy ruin on the Christmas celebrations below!

Cackling with glee, Beck loaded the first round of frozen ammunition into his launcher. The glowing vials of magical ice essence cast an eerie blue light across his eager face. Taking careful aim at the tall fir tree standing proudly in the village square, lights and decorations twinkling in the darkness, he pulled the trigger. A blast rang out, echoing against the cave walls, as a huge ball of slush hurtled toward the unsuspecting village. It landed with a tremendous splat right in the center of the tree, coating it in chilly, wet snow.

Down below, cries rang out across the square as the villagers saw their beautiful tree suddenly dripping and sagging under the weight of the icy blob. Children stared in dismay at the once majestic fir, now hanging with branches bent and ornaments knocked to the ground.

But before panic could set in, a lilting voice rang out, Don’t worry, I’ve got this! No cold slush will dampen our Christmas cheer.Ginger the resident witch calmly stepped forward, her vibrant red braids peeking out from under her winter hat and her forest-green eyes twinkling with magic. Raising her arms dramatically, she closed her eyes and murmured a strange incantation under her breath. The snow atop the tree liquefied, dripping down in torrents before disappearing completely, leaving the tree standing proud and green once more.

Beck watched the entire scene through his telescope from his cave above. Shock and anger coursed through him as he witnessed the witch cast her spell to reverse his winter assault with ease. Gripping his telescope tightly, he vowed under his breath, I’ll get you yet, Ginger. Just see if I don’t! Clearly if his bombardment of magical snowballs proved ineffective, he would need to come up with a more cunning plan. Perhaps conjuring a bitingly icy wind would finally break the cheer below.

The very next day, Beck began preparing his next attack. In the village square below, children laughed and played as they waited in line to meet the jolly Santa Claus, who sat waving merrily on his red velvet throne. Parents helped adjust their excited tots’ outfits and whisper last minute gift requests before lifting them onto Santa’s lap for pictures. Festive music filled the air as carolers harmonized and the smell of roasted chestnuts wafted through the cheerful scene. It was a heartwarming holiday spectacle—and it made Beck wretch.

He trudged back to his invention corner, Ember hovering nearby, and this time grabbed the contraption meant to generate powerful gusts of wind. Dragging it outside toward the mouth of the cave, Beck took careful aim once again at the obliviously happy villagers down below. Let’s see your Christmas spirit withstand this, you merry fools, he sneered before flipping the switch.

The machine whirred to life, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed and power. Icy wind blasted forth, stinging Beck’s eyes. Finally, when he could stand it no more, Beck aimed the frigid gale down toward the village square. The wind whipped through the cheerful scene, tearing decorations from buildings and sending waiting children into shrieks and shivers. Even Santa could be seen miserably hunkering down as the bitter blast pierced his thick red suit.

Watching from above, Beck’s eyes glinted with vengeful glee, his mouth twisting into a villainous smile. But his joy was short-lived once again. As if on cue, that confounded Ginger stepped forward, her hand already waving gracefully through the air. In a matter of moments, she had produced mugs of steaming hot cocoa for everyone and conjured toasty blankets to wrap around their shoulders, instantly warming the crowd. The children’s tears turned to smiles as they sipped the chocolatey drinks. Even Santa gave an approving nod toward Ginger in thanks.

A fearsome roar echoed against the cave walls as Beck stomped back inside, Ember joining in with a blast of fiery breath out of frustration. Confound that witch! Beck yelled. Clearly his antics would require an approach more targeted directly at this infuriating do-gooder who insisted on saving every holiday celebration.

The full moon cast an iridescent glow across the fresh blanket of snow as Beck and Ember traversed the hushed woods outside Wildmire. Beck carried a large burlap sack slung over his shoulder, periodically letting out a sinister chuckle that echoed through the tranquil night.

Come on Ember, keep up! Beck hissed. We’ve got some Christmas cheer to steal.

Ember huffed out a plume of smoke, his hot breath visible in the chilled air. His lumbering footsteps crunched through the snowdrifts as he followed his master under the moonlit sky.

Before long, the warm glow of candy cane lanterns came into view through the trees up ahead. It was the charming gingerbread cottage belonging to none other than Ginger the kindly witch. Beck’s yellow eyes flashed eagerly.

There’s the do-gooder’s home, he sneered. Let’s give it a little make under, shall we?Ever so stealthily, Beck crept up to the quaint cottage. He pressed his ear against the icy window pane and heard nothing but soft snores from within.She’s sound asleep, the Christmas-loving fool, Beck muttered to Ember with delight. He tried the front door and found it unlocked. This is almost too easy!

The pair slipped inside the cozy dwelling, immediately assaulted by relentless Christmas cheer. A fir tree glittered with baubles and popcorn strings in the corner. Mantels and shelves brimmed with nutcracker soldiers and little gingerbread houses. Peppermint garlands adorned the walls alongside jolly Santa stockings.

It was all sickeningly festive— - the perfect target.

Chuckling under his breath, Beck got to work stripping the cottage of every speck of holiday happiness. He swiped armloads of tinsel from the tree, stomping on