christmas-stories

youtube

Voice talent for Minecraft: Story Mode includes Telltale alum, 80’s film legends, and more:

Patton Oswalt (Ratatouille, WordGirl)
Brian Posehn (Fantastic 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer, Surf’s Up)
Ashley Johnson (The Last of Us, Tales from the Borderlands)
Scott Porter (Batman: Arkham Knight, Speed Racer)
Martha Plimpton (The Goonies, The Good Wife)
Dave Fennoy (The Walking Dead, The Wolf Among Us)
Corey Feldman (The Goonies, Stand By Me)
Billy West (Futurama, Adventure Time)
Paul Reubens (Pee-wee’s Big Adventure, The Nightmare Before Christmas)

Dig in and story up.

Q: What’s the worst Christmas comic you’ve ever read? — @franzferdinand2

A: Folks, I have read a lot of Christmas comics. For a while, they were the only thing I actually “collected.” I’d buy any Christmas story I could find, any comic with Santa Claus in it, anything that had the requisite number of sleighs and trees with lights on ‘em, and as a result, I have seen some genuinely terrible Christmas stories. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of good ones too, but when you’re reading every Christmas story out there, you run across plenty that are overly cynical, mean-spirited, or just plain not very good.

And every now and then, you read the two-part Krampus story in Tarot: Witch of the Black Rose, which is a piece of work unto itself.

ASK CHRIS: TAROT AND THE KRAMPUS AND THE WORST CHRISTMAS STORY

5 Christmas Novellas by Charles Dickens

1. A Christmas Carol. London: Chapman & Hall, 1843. [viii], 166, [2] pp. Four hand-colored engraved plates and illustrations in the text by John Leech. FIRST ISSUE.
2. The Chimes. London: Chapman and Hall, 1845. [viii], 175, [1] pp. Additional engraved title, frontispiece, illustrations throughout by John Leech, Richard Doyle, and others. FIRST STATE.
3. The Cricket on the Hearth. London: for the author by Bradbury and Evans, 1846. [viii], 174, [2] pp. Additional engraved title, frontispiece and illustrations throughout by John Leech, Richard Doyle and others. FIRST EDITION.
4. The Battle of Life. London: Bradbury & Evans, 1846. [viii], 175, [3] pp. Additional engraved title, frontispiece, illustrations throughout by Daniel Maclise, Richard Doyle, John Leech and others. FIRST EDITION.
5. The Haunted Man and the Ghost’s Bargain. London: Bradbury & Evans, 1848. [viii], 188 pp. Additional engraved title, frontispiece and illustrations throughout by John Tenniel, John Leech and others. FIRST EDITION.

All bound in full crimson morocco, spine gilt, upper covers with morocco inlay vignettes depicting characters from each of the works, a.e.g., all with original cloth bound in at rear, for Henry Sotheran. Custom cloth slipcase. Mild fading to original cloth on some volumes, spines somewhat sunned.

——————————–
“Some new remembrance of the ghostly figures in the Bells; some faint impression of the ringing of the Chimes; some giddy consciousness of having seen the swarm of phantoms reproduced and reproduced until the recollection of them lost itself in the confusion of their numbers; some hurried knowledge, how conveyed to him he knew not, that more years had passed; and Trotty, with the Spirit of the child attending him, stood looking on at mortal company.”
-The Chimes, Chapter IV

Wanna Hear A Cute Christmas Story??

No?

Screw you.

I'ma tell it anyhoo.

So, one Christmas I wore a santa hat at my register. Most kids thought I was Santa, despite the fact that I am young skinny girl. 

I knew they thought I was Santa cause they would listen and they just stared at me in wonder and awe.

One little girl worked up the nerve to ask me. “A-aare you Santa?”

I giggled a little. “No silly, I'ma elf.”

She gasped. “A eff!” then her eyes narrowed. “You awful taww for an eff.”

I giggled again. “I’m not normally this tall. But because they needed the extra help down here, they gaved me vitamins and vegables, and POOFED, I growed all up!”

She gasped, hiding a little bit behind where my scale was. But she wasn’t quite convinced.

“Den how you get hewe?”

I paused in my checking, leaned over and softly sang. “Rudolph with your nose so bright. Won’t you guide my sleigh to–”

I didn’t even get to finish, cause she was clapping her hands and jumping around. 

“Wudolph!? You bwought Wudolph?”

I was like. “Ssssh, it’s a secret.”

She covered her mouth and said much softer. “You.. has Wudolph.. here?”

By this point her parents are either awed, or horrified, I couldn’t quite tell.

I nodded. “He’s double parked outside, but you can’t see him cause he has an invisibility cloak on for his own protection.”

She gasped. “Bu-but, what if de caws can’t see him!”

I shook my head. “Oh Rudi is a smart Reindeer. He knows when to fly to the roof and avoid crowds. I got him plenty of berries and treats so he don’t get too bored.”

She nodded in understanding. Of course I couldn’t just let the most famous reindeer of all just scamper about without the protection of an invisibility cloak.

“Y'know, I couldn’t be here without Rudi. It gets really foggy back home and gosh, it would be horrible to get LOST.”

She was just nodding along. 

“D-dussat mean you know…Sanny Claus." 

My eyes must have lit up like Christmas trees cause she jumped back and gasped.

"Oh, of course me and Sanny are tight. I mean, he only sends him most trusted elves to walmart.”

“Does he WEALLY have a list?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What did you say your name was again?”

Her eyes got huge. “Lisa.”

“Ahhh,  yes, Lisa. On the good list this year. Do you eat your veggies and listen to your parents?” She nodded her head. “D'ya pick up your toys and help out?” She nodded. Her parents nodded too.

“Ahh, I can see why you’re on the good list. And on the count you been so good about keeping me and Rudy’s secret.” She zipped her lips and threw away the key. “Ahh. I guess I could talk to the big guy. Just tell me, what’s something you really really REALLY want, and I’ll make sure he knows.”

At this point both parents are trying to lean in and hear us. I bent down next to her and she cupped her hand to mine and said. “A choo choo train.”

“A choo choo train?” I said as I pulled away, her dad looked ready to break into a celebratory dance. “A train that goes "wooh woooh chugga chugga” she nodded her head.

“Alrighty.” I had already gotten their total ready. I told them their total, took out a piece of paper and wrote “Dear Sanny, Lisa wants a choo choo train” on a piece of receipt tape and handed it, along with her parents.

She was so excited. Her dad was excited too. He picked her up and she kept on waving as they left. Her mom stayed behind.

“I… I just wanted to thank you.”

I shrugged. “It’s all good.”

“No, you don’t understand. She wrote her letter to Santa and mailed it. She wouldn’t let us look at it. We had no idea she wanted a train set. You just… thank you.”

“Your welcome, I’m glad I could help.”

“And..  you ..  you had that thing… thought out… like really detailed thought out.”

I shrugged. “I have ADHD ma'am. I know kids ask questions. It’s reckon I’d want answers to the important ones. Merry Christmas.”

“Yes yes… Merry Christmas.”

And that’s probably the coolest fucking thing that’s ever happened to me at work.

THE FACE OF A CHILD.

One more Christmas story.

Yesterday a man and woman came in with their little boy - three, maybe four years old - and they nudged him up to the counter then stepped back. The little boy stared at me. The dad said, “Tell him.”

The kid said, “I need one stamp, please,” and laid an envelope in front of me. It simply said, “Santa. The North Pole.” It was written in glitter, clearly by the kid himself.

So, I took the letter and said, “Oh, letters to Santa don’t need a stamp. We have this big white bag that we put all the letters to him in and then it gets shipped directly to the North Pole.” He smiled really big and then he backed away and finally hid his face against the dad’s leg. They smiled at me and left.

A couple of minutes later, the mom reappeared. “Can I have that back?” she asked. “I’m going to show it to him when he’s 35.”

After they were gone I started thinking about the whole experience. How magical it had been to see his wide-eyed wonder and his innocent belief that Santa would be holding his letter - his letter - by the end of the day. I don’t have kids and I don’t want kids and I’m glad I never had kids, but that was something people without kids actually do miss out on.

And the realization was powerful.

The Christmas Ban (A short story by Sarah Whisted)

Attics can be very mysterious places. Scary, too, and that’s why you’d never find Ruxin in one at night. Given the gray daylight, though, he didn’t much mind his mom sending him up on a mission to find sweaters in theirs, even if it might take all day. 

Ruxin knew that when his mom said she was sure they were up here somewhere, that it was very likely there were no sweaters up here at all, but he had nothing better to do and he enjoyed watching the snow fall from the tiny octagon attic window at the highest point of their house. 

Everything was covered in white for as far as his eyes could see and it just kept coming, a relentless sheet of snow burying them deep this winter. The heater struggled to actually keep the house warm, leaving the attic even colder than usual. 

In his search Ruxin found all manner of blankets and scarves, but still no sweaters. He’d wrapped two mismatched scarves around his neck and draped a wool blanket over his shoulders like a cape to keep warm. It made him feel like some sort of winter superhero. 

Hidden behind a tower of withered boxes, Ruxin discovered a tiny door, only large enough to crawl through. After prying it open, he found an old wood trunk inside. It had filigree carved edges and a winter scene similar to the one outside his house etched into the lid; tall pine trees, an old farm house, and smooth snow covering it all. In the yard there stood a man with a deer by his side. Ruxin ran his palm over the design in admiration, brushing aside the film of dust before tugging the trunk out of the cubby hole and unlatching the lock to lift the lid. 

A musty burst of air escaped the trunk and he coughed for a second to clear his lungs. Dust motes trickled down around him like glitter floating to the floor as Ruxin reached into the trunk. His hand closed around the first item it touched and pulled out a long, white velvet cap with silver snowflakes embroidered into the fabric, and an edge lined with fur. It was a long sort of cap, the kind that’d hang down past your shoulders, and at the very tip, a matching fur ball dangled from its end. 

Ruxin couldn’t resist the urge to slide it on his head, but it fell down over his eyes, far too large for a child. When he pulled it off, he noticed embroidery just inside the fur edge so he turned it inside out to find the name Nicholas Claus sewn in red cursive. The name intrigued him; it was unfamiliar and that told him this trunk didn’t belong to his family. 

Holding the hat in his lap, he reached into the trunk again and pulled free a photograph set in a crystal frame that looked like ice. In it, a woman with cherry red hair kissed the nose of a man wearing the cap Ruxin held in his lap. Their cheeks were pink with the winter chill. Ruxin didn’t quite understand it, but there was something peaceful about the couple, something warm and inviting - an aura of happiness strong enough to emanate from a photograph. He also couldn’t help but notice his house in the background and the same pine trees that lined his yard’s borders. 

He’d popped the back out of the frame before he’d thought better about potentially damaging the photo, but he’d seen old pictures in his mother’s photo albums and knew it was common practice to write facts about the snapshot on the back. Sure enough, written on the back in the same cursive as the cap, it read: Nicholas & Noel, Christmas 2013

Ruxin thought, Christmas? What’s that? 

READ MORE