Christmas Chillers 2010 Competition Results: “Damn Banks”

I entered a writing competition last fall for a Christmas horror story. The results are in and I am honored to be on the final short-list. You can see all the finalists at this address: http://www.writelink.co.uk/xmaschillers/ChristmasChillersResults/christmaschillersresults.html

Horror is really not my strong suit in any way, shape, or form – but I really liked the challenge this competition presented. The winning entries were very good and I am really grateful to be included in the final list. I think they are going to post everyone’s entire story soon, but I thought I would post mine below. The parameters of the competition were that it had to be prose, it had to remain under their 1500 word count and it had to begin with the phrase: “The only thing the children had in common was they’d all disappeared on Christmas Eve . . .” – otherwise the sky was the limit.

I hope you enjoy it, I’m posting it as kind of a late Christmas present to all my readers. When the judge sends her critique, I will post it here as well.

There are plenty more competitions in the works along with the art shows, so please subscribe to this blog or check back often.

——————————————————

“Damn Banks”

The only thing the children had in common was they’d all disappeared on Christmas Eve, they were first-born, and their parents refused to pay their mortgages. Ned shook his head slowly while watching the screen. Parents knew the contracts. It was bad enough they bought more house than they could afford, but to stop payments knowing this could happen – unforgivable! He barely remembered Christmas, but he knew it was similar to today’s modern New Year’s Eve holiday – a time for reflection, thankfulness, and eager optimism for the Realm. Ned knew he must never let these people affect him on a personal level.

“Ready.” squawked the laptop speaker.

Ned looked outside the van. New Year’s Eve. Parents never read the contracts, why should that be his concern? It was spelled out clearly for them. Counter-signed by the banks.

“Damn banks.” he muttered. Forefinger at his temple and thumb at his lower jawbone, Ned stared at the microphone button and tapped the laptop with his other hand.

“We’re set Inspector.” Ned glanced at the speaker. Terrible audio – like a voice whispering in a sandstorm.

The banks, always the banks. Ned knew. Everyone knew. They took the tax money, they set this up. It could have all been so different. Damn banks!

The speaker squawked again.

Ned hit the microphone button, “Hold.”

A few seconds passed, “Yes, Inspector.”

Contracts. People didn’t care. The law was simple: Miss 2 mortgage payments; forfeit the first-born by the end of the year. Easy.

It was law throughout the Realm. The realtors glossed over it. Everyone supposedly knew it when the law passed. Ned smiled. No realtor really wanted to bring it up. The law passed – fair and square. No one bothered to read the entire bill before it passed through.

Snowing.

Ned stared at the building. He glanced at the reporter sitting in the back. She looked away – disgusted.

-

“Daddy-y-y-y!”

Sinclair got home and watched his little sweetie run to him. 3 years old – bundled up in curls and pajama feet. He caught her as she started to fall and swung her up to meet him face-to-face. They hugged in the hallway.

“How’s my girl?”

“Great Daddy! – is Mikey coming home?”

“Don’t know, Honey”

“New Year’s?”

“We’ll see Sweetie.” Sinclair set her down and patted her head.

“Get my sweater please?”

“Where?”

“The chair next to the New Year’s tree.” he said while stepping into the kitchen. Paula sat at the table clutching a kitchen towel. Her eyes obviously red and swollen from crying all day – again.

“Anything?”

Paula shook her head and started sobbing again.

“Police call?”

She shook her head and wiped her nose.

Sinclair stared at the calendar. Mikey vanished on Christmas Eve. Christmas was not sanctioned by the Realm. Hardly anyone still observed it. Sinclair vaguely remembered it. He wondered how in the world this could happen to his boy – his oldest. He never came home from the Education Center. How? There is no crime in the Realm. Still, Sinclair knew he had to provide a nice New Year’s for his family. It was his duty.

Shiver. “Honey, where’s my sweater?”

“Sorry Daddy!”

She came back dragging the sweater on the floor behind her. “I was looking at the New Year’s tree and Mikey’s ormmaman.”

“Ornament” corrected Paula pulling together a pathetic smile for their daughter.

“Are you still real sad Mama?” she asked while scampering up to her mother’s lap.

“Yes, honey.”

“We got this from the bank today, Sinclair.” Paula looked up and passed him an envelope from the table. “We have a six month grace guaranteed by the Realm. Isn’t that great? By then we’ll both be working and get caught up? Right? Next year will be better?”

Sinclair nodded and watched the snow fall outside the kitchen window. Paula rocked her daughter and cried silently.

They both knew.

-

Tom Vansen slip-slid on the new snow out to the police car. He was being escorted to assist and advise an Inspector. They needed his expertise for an emergency. Always an honor to assist the Realm! He waved back to his family in the window from the front seat of the cruiser.

-

“Mikey! It’s New Years Eve! Maybe we’ll go home!”

Mikey looked around. Maybe. New Year’s Eve is the holiday in the Realm. Other holidays aren’t outlawed, just frowned upon. Not New Year’s Eve! It’s a special time – celebrating everything that was good during the past year and everyone looks forward to yet another prosperous year ahead. On New Year’s Eve, children traditionally receive fruit and one pass for the health center during the upcoming year – if they’ve been good! Parents review the “Principles of Character” with their children. Travel is not allowed. Parents observe their duty by studying the Principles and promoting public wellness. All citizens know if keeping everyone at home and not allowing any civilian travel during the holiday, results in just one life being saved – then the tradition is indeed worth the effort and sacrifice given by all. New Year’s Eve in the Realm not only reinforces the national values, it saves lives too!

“Mikey – they’ll take us home, won’t they?”

“No traveling tonight.”

“But they can – they’ll take us home, right?”

Mikey looked at the little girl. He was 10; she was maybe 9. He didn’t know her very well, but she seemed nice and needed a friend. It was cold. The police picked him up last Sunday at his Education Center. They were herded into a large sunken pit in the middle of this room that echoed loudly. Someone called it a “pool”. Mikey tried to count kids, but couldn’t. His last count was 167 kids. Most were around his age, some were teenagers – though obviously not yet enlisted as “Defenders of the Realm”. Some were a bit younger. There were a few babies too – cared for by the older kids.

Mikey looked at her again, “I don’t know.”.

“But it’s New Year’s Eve!”

Mikey watched them walk around on the floor above the pool. Loud taps on the tiles echoed each time they took a step.

-

“We gonna to do the Prices of Carrots tonight, Daddy?”

Sinclair swept her up, “You mean the Principles of Character?”

“Yep.”

“Did you memorize your poem?”

“Oh yes!” she squealed.

“She’s getting sooo big Sinclair!” sobbed Paula as they settled by the New Year’s tree and the heat vent.

-

The girl tugged Mikey’s arm. “Look!”

Some police brought in crates of oranges and dumped them into the old swimming pool. One officer blew a whistle before they departed. The kids swarmed around the oranges and started stuffing their shirts and pockets. All was quiet when the last officer pulled the doors shut – until the babies began crying and the teenagers started yelling at each other.

-

“Inspector. Timecheck. Deadline is 0000 hours.” brayed the voice in the speaker.

Ned sighed. Damn banks. He finally clicked the microphone button, “Proceed.”.

He rubbed his eyes and listened to the ensuing chatter of orders and reports. Looking up, Ned saw two figures approaching the van from a cruiser. He informed the reporter that the utilities official arrived. She nodded. Ned got out and walked over as the snow swirled around them.

“Thomas Vansen?”

“Yes?”

Ned unfolded his script – always official – he cleared his throat:

“Mr. Vansen, as Assistant Deputy Regional Manager of this sector’s Gas & Light System, your incompetence and mismanagement has resulted in catastrophic natural gas explosions within many private homes ending in the loss of 173 families loyal and true to the Realm. You alone are determined responsible for this tragedy and therefore. . .”

Confused, the bureaucrat backed away. His escort promptly shot him once in the temple. Ned raised an eyebrow at the officer who then nodded and crisply ordered the official news reporter out of the van to complete her assignment. All three heard the scores of explosions and fire truck sirens echoing all around.

Ned turned and stamped through the snow to the line of police officers standing at attention outside the old swimming facility.

The sergeant saluted Ned outside the door.

Ned nodded and they both entered the pool area to survey the kids.

“Oranges?”

“We all chipped in – something nice – ‘cause, . . . it’s, just something nice, you know.”

Ned sighed and signaled the contingent to enter – stomping in unison all around the old pool filled with 173 missing, screaming children. He checked his watch and noticed some officers already changing as the doors were bolted shut from the outside.

Ned felt his own metamorphosis. Damn banks! Painful at first; familiar agony – followed by only raw, pure hunger as he and the others dived into the pool.

The reporter slid down the double doors to a sitting fetal position and rocked herself as she covered her ears.

. . . it was a marvelous feed.

————————————-

John Stillmunks
“Damn Banks”
Christmas Chillers 2010 Submission

JohnStillmunks.com