WEBVTT
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Tonight we join the chaos on Christmas Eve as a
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family reunion turns into a supernatural showdown with mischievous goblins,
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animated decorations, and the Magical Song. And in the end
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we'll find out who gets exactly what they want for Christmas,
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which I'm sure is being alive.
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What's that you want to be scared? Come with me.
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You will experience tales over opera, ghosts and death. It
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is not recommended at the foot of week at Heart
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Heart listen, as in the dark, it's more fun at
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that way way. This is Weekly Speaking.
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Hello, my spookys. It's the Friday before Christmas, and I
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have a very very special gift for you. I'm your
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host and narrator, Enrique Kuto, and welcome back as we're
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heading into the final stretch of this very eventful holiday
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season here at Weekly Spooky. I hope you've enjoyed all
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the bonus content and scary stories that help keep your
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holiday very merry and very scary. And I want to
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let you all know that Tomorrow, Saturday, the twenty first,
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we have a special episode of Do You Even Movie
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where we talk all about the twenty fifteen horror Christmas
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film Crampus. You won't want to miss it, and you
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get it a few days earlier than normal, so enjoy that.
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And I want to also mention on Monday, we head
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back to Strickfield for high beams on Christmas and on
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Christmas Eve we have one more novella from Strickfield, so
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you won't want to miss it. Make sure you're subscribed
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on your favorite podcasting apps and leave us a five
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star rating. It really means a lot to us. I
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also want to remind you you can send me an
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email at Weeklyspooky at gmail dot com. I would love
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to hear from you, And if you want to support
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us in a very direct way, you can go to
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Weeklyspooky dot com slash join. For as little as one
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dollar a month. You get two bonus shows every single month,
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exclusive audiobooks, and two years worth of creepypasta readings and
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so much more. That's at Weeklyspooky dot com slash join.
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But now for the situation at hand. When it comes
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to Christmas, most are hoping for a time of peace,
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family and warmth. But sometimes the holidays bring more than
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just gifts and cheer. They bring things best left forgotten.
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Tonight's story is about a family gathering that turns into
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a nightmare when a long buried secret comes back to
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haunt them. What starts as a warm holiday homecoming becomes
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a battle for their lives against an evil far older
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than Santa Claus. It's time to get cozy as we
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send you into the holiday weekend with a big dose
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of fear. Right after this holiday homecoming Hullabaloo by Joe Solmo, Hey, Grandpa,
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came the voice of a child from the other room.
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The chill late December air followed as Mark's daughter and
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grandson entered. A smile crossed his creased face, and his
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eyes lit up brighter than the Christmas tree adjacent to
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the big picture window looking out on suburbia. It had
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been five years since Brandon died, since she lost the
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love of her life. It took her that long to
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get herself back into a position to have control on
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her life, not just emotionally, but financially. It was the
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first time since the funeral she could come home for
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a visit to their home town and where her husband
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was buried. Hey, there, bryce look how big you got,
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Mark said, rising from his chair with some effort. His
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hip was bothering him again. He would have to ask
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Amy to bring him his prescription. When she got back
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from the store. He gave his grandson a look over.
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He could see his daughter's face in the one looking
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back at him. She had the same cherub cheeks separated
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with a gap toothed smile when she was ten. He
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looked up at his daughter standing in the doorway to
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the living room. He wondered where the time had gone.
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She had turned into a woman without him even knowing.
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He held out his arms, inviting her in. Jennifer rushed
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to her father. It had been years since she had
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smelled his aftershave. They stood there, father and daughter reunited
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in silence. Only the crackle of the fireplace made a sound.
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A short moment passed before Bryce started to tug on
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his mom's jacket. Mom, I have to use the bathroom,
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he said in a whiny voice. Jennifer pulled away from
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her father with a smile. It's right down the hall,
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young man, Mark said, and held his hand out right
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this way. Jennifer watched her father lead her son down
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the same dark wood paneled walls towards the bathroom. She
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remembered him walking her down that hall with the same paneling.
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It might be time to replace it, she thought. She
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dropped into a worn arm chair facing the fire and
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took a moment to herself to enjoy the warmth, the silence,
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and the feeling of being home. She had been so
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disheveled since the funeral, trying to figure out who she
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was and where she was going to land. She had
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barely had a moment to sit and just enjoy life,
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or even fine joy in life, if she was being honest.
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Her eye drifted over the various knick knacks and bric
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a brac her parents had collected in their forty years
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of marriage. Various ceramic figures stood vigilant on wooden shelves
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in both interior corners of the room, A stark white
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against the dark walnut paneling. A dancing girl twirling an
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umbrella was on the top shelf, next to a fisherman
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holding a rod with a whopper of a fish. Jennifer
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remembered when she was a child, she had said they
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were her parents, since her mom loved to dance and
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her dad spent many saturdays on the water. A pop
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in the fireplace grabbed her attention. She stared into the
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fire remembering so many years ago, her father stoking that
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fire as her and her brother would gather to open
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their presence for Christmas. She wanted that same kind of
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memory for her son, Bryce, but it wasn't meant to be.
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Bryce couldn't have a Christmas with his father. Why did
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Brandon have to be such an asshole and die on her,
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leave her to raise Bryce alone? He said he would
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always be there for her, but where was he now?
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Deep down inside, she knew she could face whatever came
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her way. She just didn't want to face it alone.
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She missed having him around to bounce ideas off, to
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make memories with, just to snuggle with on the couch
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with a good movie. She wished he was there with
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her now. She stood up and got closer to the fireplace,
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looking at the old pictures and stand up frames on
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the mantle. Then her eyes fell upon the saw her
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father had on the mantle on a little stand. It
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looked old, ancient really, the wood handle sanded smooth except
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where a sun and moon were carved, forming the grooves
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for fingers. Her father never spoke of the saw, He
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never used it. It just sat there as a curious
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curio from the past. She traced her fingers along the
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polished metal surface of the blade, careful to keep her
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fingertips from the sharp teeth. It called to her in
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some subconscious way. She could almost hear a voice call
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her name in a breathy whisper, Jennifer. She wrapped her
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hand around it. It was warm to the touch. She
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felt the pulse of life in the wood, like a heartbeat.
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Jennifer.
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That voice so familiar, like a favorite hoodie or blanket.
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The words wrapped around her, comforting her. Where did she
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know it from? Jennifer? Are you okay? Jennifer gasped and
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pulled her hand back. She turned to see her mother
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looking concerned at her. Didn't you hear me come in? Jenny,
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Amy asked, No, I guess not, she replied, looking back
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at the saw resting on its displaystand. Grandma came a
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shrill voice from the hall. As Bryce charged into the
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down coat his grandmother wore. He wrapped his arms around
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her waist and squeezed so hard she could hardly breathe.
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Nice to see you, Bryce, she said in a strained voice.
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She tried to pry his young arms apart and escape
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his excited clutch. Bryce, let your grandma go, Jennifer said,
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and helped her mom out. Got any cookies? Bryce asked,
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I might let's go to the kitchen and find out,
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although I think it's time for lunch, Amy said, leading
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him away. Amy, dear my pills, Mark asked right away.
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His wife replied, Dad, I could have gotten them for you.
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Jennifer stated, no big deal, she likes to fuss over me.
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Mark answered and sat back down where he was before
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company came. Have a seat, he finished, gesturing to the
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chair she was sitting in earlier. Grandma said, come get lunch,
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Bryce said, entering the room. I'm not very hungry, Jennifer said,
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looking up at the mantle. Grandma said, I can't have
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a cookie until everyone eats lunch. Bryce answered his mom
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looks like we have no choice. Mark said, help your
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grandfather up. Bryce grabbed his grandfather's sweater sleeve and gave
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a big yank. He pulled the sleeve half off Mark's arm. Easy,
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you gotta hold my hand, Mark said, with a chuckle.
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Bryce did better the second time, and they all went
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to the kitchen. Let's go get lunch. Then I can
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take my pills. Supposed to take him with food anyway,
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Mark finished, Look, Grandpa, it's snowing.
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A sh It was only the wind, your safe weekly
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Spooky will be right back.
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As the evening shadows grew, the snow outside began to
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pile up in large, puffy flakes, the beauty of which
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was lost on Keiko. She came here to the mortal
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realm for one reason, to get back what was stolen
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from her people. It was her shame that drove her.
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It was the perfect time, a fortnight, to get the
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job done. As the days grew their darkest to cross over.
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It was a long way home, tunneling through the strange
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rock of this new continent, but she had to return
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to where it had happened. She eyed the home of
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her adversary. Many years had gone by since their paths
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had crossed since that night so long ago. In fact,
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this wasn't where it happened at all, and it took
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years to track him down. Fifty years ago. This Christmas
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eve it happened, but she had no concern for mortal calendars.
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All she knew was that her kind could come out
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during the twelve days of Christmas while the sun ceases
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its seasonal movement for that two week span they could
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put down their tools and take a break from toiling
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down in the earth on the roots of the world tree.
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The last time she was here was a fiasco, one
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that she was now going to write. Keiko, along with
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a fire hydrant, made their way across the snow covered driveway,
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glancing this way and that. The greatest fear was that
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one of this world's dogs would grab her and run
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off the hydrant. Sphere of dogs was a different one altogether.
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She stood on tippy toes and looked over the hood
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of the buick, but there was no canine in sight.
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One diminutive hand slid into her pocket, pulling out a
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small knife. A wicked smile crossed her face. Grandpa, do
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you have any good Christmas stories? Bryce asked, with a
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mouthful of gingerbread cookie about Sannah Mark asked, no, I've
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heard all those. Those are boring, Bryce said, in an
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impatient voice. Jennifer noticed her father's glance to the mantle
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on the fireplace. It was only for a second, but
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she caught it. Dad. Why don't you tell the story
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of that small saw on the mantle? Even I haven't
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heard that one, Jennifer prodded, that's not a story I'm
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particularly proud of. Mark responded with a sigh. He rose
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to his feet gingerly and walked over to the fireplace.
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He stared at the fire for a long moment before
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he spoke again, Well, I'm not getting any younger, it's
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probably best I get it off my chest. Mark reached
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up with his weathered hand and wrapped it around the handle,
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feeling the smooth worked wood once again in his hands.
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No species of tree on earth compared to this, he thought,
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as he looked at the grain, which seemed to shimmer
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from his touch. He turned and faced his family. It
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was so such a crazy story, an insane night from
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five decades earlier, when he was just a teenager, a
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story no one believed over the years, so much so
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that he doubted his own memories if it wasn't for
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the saw. A tear raced down his cheek as he
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looked at it. At first, instinct had told him to
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take it from her. Then he decided to keep the thing.
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He always meant to return it some day, but one
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year turned into another, then another. It was Christmas Eve,
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a fourteen year old Mark was making his way through
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the snow that covered the streets of Suburbia. He was
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visiting his friend Claudio when Claudio's mother called down to
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them in the basement. Mark, your mother wants you to
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come home, she yelled down the stairs. Mark sighed. Always
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in the middle of combat, he thought, as he threw
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his twenty sided dice down on the table. I gotta go.
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You leave now, you might die, Claudio said with a smirk.
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Mark knew he was just teasing. He looked around the
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table at his friend's Sorry guys, Mark said, before racing
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up the stairs and out into the frigid air. He
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still only had one arm in his coat, since the
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other held his book bag. He stopped in front of
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the church on Main Street to put his jacket all
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the way on. That's when he first saw her. At first,
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he thought someone had let their kid out alone. The
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small figure was in the front lawn of the church
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and ducked behind the hedges that were carved into nativity