Ep.237 – The Day that Santa Died - They Want Saint Nick DEAD!

WEBVTT

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Everyone wants to be famous, even
if just for fifteen minutes. But of

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course with fame comes complications. The
more people want your time and attention,

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the more people want you dead.
And who could have more notoriety, more

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fame, more name recognition than Santa
Claus himself? What's that you want to

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be scared to? Come with me? He will experience tales over opera,

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who Ghosts and Death Death. It
is not recommended for the week at Hartt

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Listen as in the dark, it's
more fun at that way way. This

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is Weekly Speaking. Hello, my
spookys. It's Tuesday, the Tuesday before

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Christmas, and I've got another scary
store just for you. I'm your host

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and narrator, Enrique Kuto, and
tonight's story is action packed. Often here

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on Weekly Spooky we dive into many
of the subgenres of horror, but it's

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not often action. So leave it
to our good buddy Keith Tomlin to take

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care of business right here tonight with
his very fun and freaky story. But

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we'll get to that in just a
moment. But before we get to that,

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I simply want to say a big
thank you for listening to the program.

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We love what we're doing here at
Weekly Spooky. That's why we've done

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it for nearly four full years and
we have no intention of stopping. And

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this holiday season we're giving you all
kinds of extra things under your tree.

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Notice I say things and not necessarily
gifts. Well, gift is in the

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eye of the beholder, and once
those eyes get jabbed out, well that's

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another story for another time. But
make sure you're subscribed if you haven't already,

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on your favorite podcasting app. And
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a five star rating. It helps
us a lot finding new listeners, because

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tomorrow there's another Spooky. Thursday is
the Babysitter Massacre audiobook camp Carnage in its

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entirety free, another Christmas gift to
you all. Then Friday is Christmas Arcadia,

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a brand new Strickfield novella. And
then Saturday is something very special for

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you Strickfield fans, something you are
not going to want to miss, something

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that would make you very rageful if
you missed it. So make sure you're

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subscribed and head to Weeklyspooky dot com
to listen to shows you may have missed.

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But now it's time for our story. After these quick words, the

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day that Santa died by Keith Tomlin. Excerpts from Santa's Bodyguard, My Journey

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from Vietnam to the North Pole,
an autobiography by Jonathan L. Copeland,

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as featured in the December twenty eleven
issue of The weather Be Monthly True Crime

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journal. Writer's note, I hate
to start the story off with exposition,

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but I need to make sure that
the realities of the situation are understood by

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the reader. These are explained in
detail in the book version, but readers

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of this excerpt may benefit from knowing
the following one. There are around two

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thousand elves in existence. Majority of
these elves are living a happy life working

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for Santa. There are, however, a few that, in their terms,

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escaped from the North Pole. These
elves, called renegades, vowed to

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release their fellow elves from their enslavement
of their oppressor. For the record,

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I have not seen any indication that
Santa was anything but kind and generous to

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those who worked for him. Two. Many supernatural phenomena surround Santa Claus and

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Christmas. Many of these are well
documented in popular culture, such as flying

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reindeer and circumventing the entire earth in
one night. While delivering presents. However,

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two lesser known ones affect this story. The first is that explosives,

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including gunpowder and by extension, firearms, do not work around Santa Claus.

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The same goes for internal combustion engines. Santa cannot ride in a car,

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plane, or helicopter. When I
asked him about these and other unusual occurrences,

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he would simply shrug and say it's
Christmas magic. I could get no

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further explanations. John Copeland twenty eleven, December eighteenth, nineteen eighty nine,

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Cooper's Department Store, Brickton, New
Jersey. The hair on the back of

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my neck stood up. I could
feel that something was wrong. This sixth

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sense saved my life many times in
Vietnam, and I've learned to trust it.

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I triggered the radio, Steve,
how are things looking? The reply

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came back, everything looks good here, Boss, Alan, everything good on

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your end YEP, no issues,
just kids everywhere. Alan replied, Dave,

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how are you doing? No reply, Dave, still no reply.

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Jeff again, no reply, Damn, I sighed. I triggered the radio

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again. Okay, and I want
you to stop letting people in. Tell

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them that Santa has to feed his
reindeer or whatever. Steve, make your

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way towards Dave's sector, but be
careful. Head on a swivel. I'll

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head to where Jeff was. After
Alan and Steve confirmed, I head off

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down an aisle stacked with boxes of
board games. A look to my right

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confirmed that Santa was still in the
Winter Wonderland village that Cooper's Department store set

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up for him. Kids were lined
up across the sales room floor and down

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the unpowered escalator. I heard tiny
footsteps running behind me. I turned and

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walked back towards sporting goods. A
blur of motion turned down an aisle in

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the baseball section. I quickly covered
the ground between me and the mouth of

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the aisle. Peering around the corner, I saw a child no older than

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six standing there, giggling, his
mouth covered in chocolate. I cautiously made

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my way towards him. Hi,
there are you lost? Where are your

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parents? I asked? They over
there, he said, pointing somewhat in

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the direction of Santa's village. I
approached closer every nerve, screaming, what

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are you doing here? Don't you
want to meet Santa? The little man

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gave me candy and said that you
wanted to play hide and seek, the

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child said, grinning. I began
to answer when my instincts told me to

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duck. A long blade whipped across
the aisle, barely missing my head.

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Out of habit and training, my
hand reached for a pistol at my waist.

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I then remembered I was not carrying
a firearm and instead grabbed a wooden

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baseball bat, just in time to
block another strike from the short sword.

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The sword dug into the wood deep
enough to catch, and I was able

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to twist the bat to the side
and rip that sword out of the grip

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of a short creature standing on the
top shelf. I dropped the bat and

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grabbed its legs, turned and swung
it across the aisle, hitting its head

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on a metal bin full of baseball
bats. I let go and it landed

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on the floor, its neck twisted
at an impossible angle. I heard the

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kid behind me running away, yelling
for his mother. I got my first

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look at the creature and cursed.
It was around three feet tall, with

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a thin, narrow face, long
gray beard, and pointy ears. Guys,

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I said into the radio, we
got elves. Time to shut it

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down. Alan, they don't usually
attack civilians. Make sure everybody makes it

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safely off the property. Steve,
make your way to me. I'll be

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with the big guy immediately. The
guys acknowledged I changed channels in radio to

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have the reindeer sleigh sent for a
roof extraction. As I begin to quickly

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walk toward the Winter Wonderland setup,
I tripped a fire alarm mounted on a

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wall. Sirens and flashing lights filled
the store as a pre recorded voice played

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over the sound system asking all guests
to leave the building in an orderly fashion

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via the nearest exit in the Winter
Wonderland set. Store employees began helping crying

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children and worried parents exit the roped
off que. Santa, looking majestic in

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his classic red robes with white trim, was reassuring everyone and asking them to

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be careful on the way out.
I walked up to Santa, my eyes

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trying to scan everyone and everything at
once, my nerves screaming. Santa noticed

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my approach and turned to me,
concern etched into his ageless face. John,

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my boy, what is going on? Is everyone okay? He asked,

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his deep voice rising above the surrounding
chaos. I shook my head.

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No, sir, the renegades are
here. I have a few people missing,

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but I haven't heard any issues with
the civilians. Oh my, he

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said, pausing, How did they
find me? Unclear? At this point,

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I replied, around Christmas, there
are thousands of actors posing as Santa

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around the world, meeting children,
leading parades, and doing other Christmasy duties.

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For years, I tried in vain
to get the real Santa to cancel

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his personal appearances, but he refused, saying that the only way to know

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what children really want is to get
out there and talk to them. I

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was able to stop him from announcing
his appearances, hoping that the sheer number

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of other Santas would act as decoys
and serve as a form of Christmas camouflage.

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We can worry about that later,
sir. Now, we need to

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get you to the roof for pickup. I told him I'll go once I

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know the children are safe. He
replied, sir, we need to get

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you out of here when the children
are safe. Santa said, with a

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bit of an edge in his voice, Roger that I knew that once he

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made up his mind, there was
no changing it. I turned to face

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the dwindling crowd, scanning for dangers. I spoke into the radio, Alan,

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what's the situation, Alan answered,
a bit breathless. The crowd streaming

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out of the building is thinning out
a bit. I saw some short figures,

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non children entering through the loading dock. Steve went after them. Stay

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with the crowd, make sure nothing
happens to them, I said, Steve.

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Head up to me. No answer, Steve. Still nothing, Damn,

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I thought, as I put the
radio into a holster on my belt.

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After a few tense minutes, some
of the longest of my life,

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Alan's voice came over the radio.
Boss employees are saying the store should be

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empty. Roger that heading to the
roof. I replied, that's when the

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lights went out. The world went
black except for the flashing lights of the

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fire alarm. Moments later, the
emergency lights came on, their dim pale

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lights combined with the firelights, casting
an eerie shadow. Sir I said,

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we need to go now. A
somber looking Santa nodded, yes, John,

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I believe you're right. Weaving through
the aisles and holiday displays, I

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led Santa toward the back stairway.
As we entered housewares. Three diminutive figures

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emerged out of the darkness at the
end of the aisle, the amber alarm

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lights shining off of the short steel
swords they were wielding. I pulled Santa

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behind me and turned to face the
attackers. Out of the corner of my

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vision, I saw a dark shape
launch itself from the top shelf towards Santa.

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I sidestepped to intercept, putting my
body between Santa and the threat.

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I raised my left arm to block
the assault in A long, thin blade

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pierced my forearm. The weight of
the small body forced my arm back,

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and the tip of the knife cut
a long, cruel gash in my cheek.

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I grabbed the attacker, an older, gray haired elf, with my

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right hand, and awkwardly chucked the
flailing body at the other three, who

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were now running down the aisle.
Swords raised don't go away weakly, Spooky

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will be right back. One of
the attackers tripped over the thrown Elf,

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while the other two slowed down now
that I had turned my attention to them.

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As they cautiously walked forward, I
pulled the knife from my forearm,

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causing a fresh wave of blood to
flow I held the knife at the ready.

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As a Green Beret in Vietnam,
my unit was often at a numeric

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disadvantage when we encountered the enemy.
In those situations, I found that it

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was best to cause confusion in the
enemy by doing the unexpected, which usually

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came down to a quick and bloody
display of extreme violence. I whispered to

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Santa, keep an eye out behind
you. I'll be right back. I

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didn't wait for an answer. Instead, I roared at the top of my

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lungs and began to run towards the
elves as fast as I could. This

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startled them, and they raised their
swords in a defensive posture. As I

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got within a few feet of the
elf on the right side, I went

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into a feet first baseball slide.
The polished and waxed floor assisting me with

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a surprising lack of resistance. I
hit him just under his right knee.

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The crack of the bones was louder
than the fire alarm. As he fell,

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he tried to strike me, but
only took out a small slice of

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my left arm. Most of the
damage was absorbed by my suit jacket.

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At this time I realized that I
had slid too close to the bottom of

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the shelf, and it was restricting
my movements. My initial hope was to

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take out the right elf with the
baseball slide, then spin to face away

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from the upright attacker and use my
feet to keep him at bay until I

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can find an opportunity to stand up. Not the best plan I've ever come

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up with, but better than none. The middle attacker approached and batted away

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my ineffectual attempts to fend him off
with my injured arm. He raised his

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sword and plunged it down at me. At the last moment, I was

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able to turn and took the strike
on my left side. Using what little

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strength I had in my left arm, I tried to push him away as

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he grabbed the sword with both hands
and leaned into it. That's when I

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stopped pushing and pulled him toward me, his sword passing through me and striking

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the floor. Shock showed on his
face as he fell forward, unable to

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compensate for the lack of resistance.
I stared into his face inches from mine

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as I brought my right hand up
and plunged the dagger into his side over

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and over again. I felt the
front of my shirt grow wet with his

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blood, and the light in his
eye slowly dimmed. I let go,

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and he slumped over his eyes,
staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Using the

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shelves to pull myself up, I
grasped the hilt of the small sword and

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pulled it free. Wincing from the
pain, rolling my left shoulder, I

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deduced that the wound on my side
was less serious than I originally thought.

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No vital organs were hit. I
look at the three living elves lying on

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the ground. The one with the
broken leg was still clutching it and rolling

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around moaning. The one I threw
was still lying dazed on the tile floor,

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while the one that tripped over him
was just rising to his feet,

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his cold eyes boring into me.
I took a step and kicked him hard

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in the face. A wet crunch
could be heard as a shelf split the

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back of his skull open and wedged
into his brain. I then struck the

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elf he tripped over with the sword
until he stopped moving. I verified that

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the elf with the broken leg wasn't
a threat, before looking over at Santa

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Santa Claus stood there speechless, his
ashen white face registering both shock and disgust.

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He opened his mouth to speak,
but nothing came out. Sir,

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we should be going, I said, looking around for additional threats. Santa

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shook his head like he was coming
out of a trance. He looked at

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the carnage in front of him and
asked, was that necessary, Sir,

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Let's go, I replied. Santa
took one last look at the bodies before

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him and slowly nodded. We made
our way past the jewelry counter and into

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women's wear. I grabbed a couple
of scarves from a bin and bound my

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wounds as best I could. Santa
gave me a disapproving look, but softened

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when I told him that I would
for them later. I almost added if

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we live, but chose to keep
that part to myself. We heard movement

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behind us, at least four sets
of footsteps heading our way. I began

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pushing Santa to move faster, hoping
to reach the stairway to the roof before

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the renegades caught us. My sixth
sense was screaming that there was something I

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00:17:21.359 --> 00:17:25.799
was missing, but years of an
action had blunted the tactical sense that had

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been honed into a razor's edge in
foreign wars. Finally, I saw the

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00:17:30.000 --> 00:17:34.119
gap in the shelves along the back
wall with a bright red sign that read

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emergency exit. As we neared it, something flew by and smacked into the

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wall ahead of us. I looked
back and a small figure was frantically trying

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to reload a crossbow. I pushed
Santa faster, almost knocking him off his

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feet, and we slammed into a
metal exit door. A shrill alarm began

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going off, further adding to the
chaos of the situation. I slammed the

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door shut and looked around. Stared
were going up on the left and down

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00:18:00.680 --> 00:18:04.440
on the right. Also on the
right was a mop and bucket. I

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grabbed the mop and wedged it between
the bottom step and the door. It

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00:18:08.359 --> 00:18:12.599
wouldn't last long, but it should
slow them down. Santa was trying to

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catch his breath, and as much
as I hated to do it, I

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00:18:17.359 --> 00:18:21.720
couldn't give him time to rest.
Sir, the roof is one flight up.

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00:18:21.799 --> 00:18:26.039
We're almost there, I said,
as reassuringly as I could. He

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00:18:26.079 --> 00:18:30.200
nodded and began climbing. I did
my best to keep watch both ahead and

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00:18:30.319 --> 00:18:33.720
behind us. When we made the
turn to the final set of stairs.

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I began hearing yells and pounding from
below. I readied the sword that I

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00:18:37.359 --> 00:18:42.039
still carried and prompted Santa to climb
even faster. When we finally made it

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00:18:42.039 --> 00:18:47.599
to the roof access door, we
paused. I pushed Santa against the wall

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and stood in front of him,
sword at the ready. I radioed the

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00:18:49.799 --> 00:18:56.000
reindeer team. What's the status of
the sleigh? I asked, we're landing

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00:18:56.039 --> 00:19:00.559
now, the roof is clear.
Where it go was the reply. Finally

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00:19:00.680 --> 00:19:06.559
something was going our way, Ready, Sir, I asked Santa. He

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chuckled, I can almost taste the
hot chocolate now. As I nodded to

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him, I heard a crash from
below us and yells of triumph. Santa

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opened the roof door and I followed
close behind him, facing the stairway.

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00:19:19.319 --> 00:19:22.799
As soon as I backed onto the
roof, I knew something was wrong.

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00:19:23.759 --> 00:19:29.440
It wasn't until later that I realized
that it was the lack of noise.

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00:19:30.440 --> 00:19:34.319
Nine reindeer make a ton of noise
even when they're just standing still, and

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00:19:34.400 --> 00:19:40.880
the roof was eerily quiet. As
I heard Santa say, oh my,

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00:19:41.880 --> 00:19:45.519
I turned and noticed an odd contraption
set off to the left It had a

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00:19:45.559 --> 00:19:51.519
four inch tube and two large tanks
behind it. Three elves were standing around

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00:19:51.519 --> 00:19:55.599
it, two holding long daggers,
while the third carried a short spear.

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00:19:56.359 --> 00:20:00.400
One elf yelled now, and the
one with the brought it down on a

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00:20:00.480 --> 00:20:07.160
lever, and the machine roared.
I suddenly realized that this was a huge

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air cannon. A metal ball shot
out, flying towards Santa's chest. I

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tried to leap in front of him
to intercept the threat, but it seemed

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00:20:15.400 --> 00:20:18.119
like I was moving in slow motion. I was able to get my left

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00:20:18.200 --> 00:20:22.799
arm up in front of the cannon
ball. It ricocheted off of my arm,

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00:20:22.920 --> 00:20:26.759
shattering bone and struck Santa in the
stomach. I fell to the ground

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00:20:27.119 --> 00:20:30.440
and must have blacked out for a
few seconds. When I came to,

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I saw that Santa was lying on
the roof about six feet away, flanked

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00:20:34.839 --> 00:20:38.839
by the three elves from the cannon. Another three elves were approaching from the

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00:20:38.839 --> 00:20:41.799
other side of the roof, and
four more had emerged from the stairway.

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Still dazed, I watched the elves
surround Santa, who lay there gasping for

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00:20:48.799 --> 00:20:52.599
breath. The elf with the spear
stepped forward and jammed it into Santa's chest

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00:20:53.680 --> 00:20:59.279
that broke the dam, and the
others rushed ahead, plunging their knives into

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00:20:59.319 --> 00:21:03.519
the large man over and over again. Blood began to pull on the roof,

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and the elves handmade boots made red
footprints as they splashed through the puddle,

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eagerly elbowing their way through the frenzied
mob to take another stab. I

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00:21:15.319 --> 00:21:18.119
gave up trying to stand and slumped
back to the ground. All of my

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00:21:18.240 --> 00:21:22.160
will to fight drained out of me. I screamed, but the only thing

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I could hear was the pounding of
my heart and the soft, wet thud

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00:21:27.599 --> 00:21:33.680
of the knives hitting their mark.
I hung my head and wept, but

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00:21:33.839 --> 00:21:38.160
soon the sounds of the slaughter stopped. I thought that I would look up

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00:21:38.240 --> 00:21:45.839
to find myself surrounded by bloodthirsty heathens. However, when I opened my eyes,

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00:21:45.920 --> 00:21:48.440
I saw that the elves had backed
up, staring at the body on

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00:21:48.480 --> 00:21:53.599
the ground. Lights began pulsing from
each of the dozens of Santa's wounds.

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00:21:55.319 --> 00:21:59.799
The light became brighter, and the
elves stumbled back further, one falling down,

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00:21:59.839 --> 00:22:03.359
but none of them took their eyes
off of the corpse in front of

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00:22:03.400 --> 00:22:07.640
them. Santa's body began to shake
and rose in the air like some ragdoll

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00:22:07.759 --> 00:22:11.920
held up by an invisible hand.
The light became blinding, and I had

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00:22:11.920 --> 00:22:17.599
to turn away from the blazing nova
that the fat man had become. There

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00:22:17.640 --> 00:22:21.480
was a loud crackle and then a
deafening thump, followed by a light so

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00:22:21.640 --> 00:22:26.240
bright that it rivaled the sun.
After a few minutes, I opened my

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00:22:26.319 --> 00:22:30.000
eyes and tried to blink away the
spots that danced in front of them.

279
00:22:30.799 --> 00:22:34.160
Santa's body still hung in the air, but the light was beginning to dim

280
00:22:34.200 --> 00:22:41.160
as his wounds slowly closed. I
was struck by the thought that he looked

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00:22:41.200 --> 00:22:47.000
like a white, bearded Jesus crucified
on an invisible cross. I felt like

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00:22:47.079 --> 00:22:51.640
I was going mad and began to
laugh. That stopped when I noticed the

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00:22:51.759 --> 00:22:56.519
charred and smoking bodies of the renegade
elves scattered around the roof. Hearing a

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00:22:56.559 --> 00:23:02.000
scraping sound, I turned to see
that one of the elves survived. Most

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00:23:02.039 --> 00:23:04.039
of its body was charred, and
it was using its one good arm to

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00:23:04.119 --> 00:23:08.160
pull itself along. I stumbled to
my feet, the pain in my arm

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00:23:08.240 --> 00:23:14.400
inside beginning to throb as the adrenaline
wore off. I shuffled over to the

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00:23:14.440 --> 00:23:18.880
remaining elf and flipped it over onto
its back. The majority of its face

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00:23:18.000 --> 00:23:22.160
was burnt black, except for the
area around its right eye. I could

290
00:23:22.200 --> 00:23:27.279
feel the hate radiating from it as
it looked past me, focused on something

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00:23:27.359 --> 00:23:33.920
behind me. Oh, Clarence,
Santa said, walking up to look down

292
00:23:33.039 --> 00:23:38.839
at the elf. My poor boy. I wish I could help you help,

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00:23:40.599 --> 00:23:48.960
Clarence croaked between charred lips. Let
us go, Santa shook his head.

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00:23:49.039 --> 00:23:53.359
If I could, I would,
but it's out of my control.

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00:23:55.319 --> 00:24:02.720
Liar, set us free, Clarence
said, his anger giving strength to his

296
00:24:02.799 --> 00:24:08.240
voice. Santa got down on one
knee and grabbed Clarence's good hand. You

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00:24:08.319 --> 00:24:14.799
don't think I've tried to leave.
It affects me just like it affects you.

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00:24:15.680 --> 00:24:18.519
After two days away from the North
Pole, I start feeling the tug

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00:24:18.599 --> 00:24:23.880
of the place trying to pull me
back. After a week away, I

300
00:24:23.960 --> 00:24:29.680
can't sleep, I can barely eat, and that's just the start of the

301
00:24:29.720 --> 00:24:34.000
struggle. All I can think of
is my workshop and my overwhelming need to

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00:24:34.039 --> 00:24:41.400
get back to it. I finally
just accepted my fate and embraced my role

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00:24:41.480 --> 00:24:48.640
in life. I we bring joy
to the children of the world, and

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00:24:48.799 --> 00:24:55.599
that's a worthy way to spend one's
life. Doubt showed in Clarence's face,

305
00:24:56.480 --> 00:25:04.880
and he whispered a final word,
Ooh. Santa patted his hand. It's

306
00:25:04.920 --> 00:25:10.759
the spirit of Christmas that calls to
us, that pulls us back. Its

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00:25:10.799 --> 00:25:14.880
magic is fueled by the hopes and
dreams of children all over the world.

308
00:25:15.759 --> 00:25:19.319
As long as there are children who
believe in Christmas, the Christmas Spirit will

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00:25:19.319 --> 00:25:26.440
be there to guide us. We
Santa stopped talking as a groan escaped from

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00:25:26.440 --> 00:25:32.839
Clarence's mouth and the light in his
eyes went out. Santa bowed his head

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00:25:33.440 --> 00:25:37.720
and wept. After a few minutes, he gently placed the ELF's hand on

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00:25:37.759 --> 00:25:44.079
the ground and stood, wiping his
face. I radioed the slay team,

313
00:25:44.160 --> 00:25:48.119
and, after verifying their identification,
found that they never received the original request

314
00:25:48.160 --> 00:25:53.119
for a rooftop pickup. After scheduling
the pickup, I turned to Santa and

315
00:25:53.240 --> 00:25:57.359
noticed that he was poking a finger
through one of the dozens of cuts in

316
00:25:57.400 --> 00:26:04.319
his jacket. John, he said, confused, what happened? Well,

317
00:26:04.359 --> 00:26:11.279
sir, you died, I replied, Did I know? So? How

318
00:26:11.319 --> 00:26:18.319
did I undie? He asked?
Unclear? You started floating in the air

319
00:26:18.359 --> 00:26:25.319
and burst into a bright light.
And now you're alive, really, hm

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00:26:25.519 --> 00:26:32.519
strange? Santa shrugged. Christmas Magic, he said, yes, sir,

321
00:26:33.279 --> 00:26:41.960
Christmas Magic. Epilogue In the dark
space between two air units, Frederick the

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00:26:41.039 --> 00:26:47.480
Elf lowered the crossbow and placed it
next to the backpack of the electronic equipment

323
00:26:47.839 --> 00:26:52.680
he used to intercept the radio transmissions. He tore his gaze off Santa and

324
00:26:52.839 --> 00:26:59.359
closed his eyes to quell his rage. With that rage subsiding, the pull

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00:26:59.400 --> 00:27:03.400
of the North returned. He spent
a few minutes conquering that urge, his

326
00:27:03.519 --> 00:27:11.359
shaking hands finally growing still. Calm
descended and he began to review what he

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00:27:11.519 --> 00:27:18.000
learned. Santa can't be killed,
at least not in traditional ways. Santa

328
00:27:18.119 --> 00:27:22.559
is not the source of the pull, but he is a willing participant in

329
00:27:22.599 --> 00:27:26.160
the oppression of the elves. The
Spirit of Christmas is the force that tries

330
00:27:26.240 --> 00:27:30.640
to pull them back to the North
Pole. Human children all over the world

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00:27:30.680 --> 00:27:36.599
give power to the Spirit of Christmas. To lessen the pull of the Spirit

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00:27:36.640 --> 00:27:42.440
of Christmas, we need to decrease
what gives it power, namely human children.

333
00:27:44.839 --> 00:27:48.880
Frederick opened his eyes. He knew
what he had to do. Now

334
00:27:48.920 --> 00:27:53.279
is the time for planning. He
cocked his head and seemed to hear sleigh

335
00:27:53.319 --> 00:27:59.680
belts off in the distance. He
took one last look at Santa and his

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00:27:59.720 --> 00:28:06.799
body guard before slinking off into the
darkness. Thank you for reading The weather

337
00:28:06.839 --> 00:28:11.240
Be monthly True Crime Journal. Please
check out next month's issue, where we

338
00:28:11.279 --> 00:28:15.640
will have the next installment of excerpts
from John Copeland's autobiography. In that article,

339
00:28:15.720 --> 00:28:22.920
titled Infanticide, Generation Blood, he
explores one of the bloodiest terror campaigns

340
00:28:22.319 --> 00:28:33.319
in human history. Well, it
looks like things may have gotten a lot

341
00:28:33.359 --> 00:28:37.440
worse. Leave it to our good
buddy Keith Tomlin to give us one of

342
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the darkest endings possible. If you
haven't heard his other holiday offerings, I

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do highly recommend you check them out. And it's very easy to listen to

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author's other work here at Weekly Spooky. Just go to Weeklyspooky dot com and

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click on search, type in Keith
Tomlin and see all of the stories he's

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written for us over the years.
You could also do that with any of

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our other offers, or if you're
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demons, type it in. We
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myself and many of our authors and
other spookies hang out, share memes,

354
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355
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And these are our podcast boosters.
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dot Com, Megan hu Uh,
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It'd be a nice little present for me

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to see us reach one hundred Patreon
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it? But now, my friends, I gotta get back to work.

367
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We have so much more content before
the big day. So for myself,

368
00:30:30.240 --> 00:30:33.079
my producer Dan Wilder, my executive
producer Rob Fields, and my composer Ray

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Mattis, I will talk at you
tomorrow. Thank you for listening. Make

370
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sure to find your way back next
week. But for now you are safe,

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trust me.