Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #21 December 2015 | Page 54

stark naked on the front lawn, was still on.
There would have been nothing for Christmas
Dinner. Max’s credit card had maxed out, and they
were living off Jack’s baked beans supply and Smiley
Faces from the freezer when a van rolled up to the
electric gate a couple of days before Christmas Eve
to deliver three big boxes of everything they’d need,
from turkey to Christmas pud, and mince pies. Even a
case of Veuve Clicquot champagne. Max’s favourite.
When he’d had things to celebrate.
Neither he nor Nichole could think of who
could have wanted to give them such a generous gift.
But after a few tries of guessing the increasingly
unlikely names, they both couldn’t care.
The doorbell rang.
A slight, bearded stranger in a felt hat and
pebble dark glasses stood nonchalantly puffing at an
e-cigarette. Max presumed it was Terry’s friend.
“Terry and Sandy have been delayed, for a
little while,” the stranger told Max in a slightly singsong voice.
Max was right.
“Come in, come in. And you are?”
“Loki ,” said Loki, pronouncing it Lookee, as
he took Max’s outstretched hand, and gave it a good
firm shake.
“Who’s this?” Nichole asked from the kitchen
door. “Can Jack open his present? He’s driving me
mad with his whining.”
“This is Lukie. Looks like Terry invited him
along for the ride. Christmas charity and all that.”
Max watched Lukie, who was staring intently
at the pile of presents under the tree.
“Yeah, bring him out, and he can pick which
one he wants. Sounds like Terry will be reliably
unpunctual. Don’t want to spoil that bird in the oven.

Might just start with Lukie here.”
“Homegrown,” Max told Lukie, pointing at
the tree.
“Ah, that is why it is so big. And a sacred
pine, no less. Very special.”
“Sacred?” Max puzzled.
“Yes, but obviously not to you. No matter.
You were about to offer me a drink of punch that
Nichole has on the Aga I believe.”
A shiver went up Max’s spine. Max was
not worried about the bloody tree. The estate agent
had told him to cut it down to give a better view of
the river. And it seemed a shame to waste it. With
Christmas trees being so expensive. Especially the
size needed to make a good impression in the hall.
Nichole came out of the kitchen leading Jack
by the hand, and a glass of punch for them all in the
other, on a small decorative tray with tinsel stuck to
the edge.
“What’s your choice then Jack? The big red
one? Looks like it could be a nice surprise.”
Max hoped that was the one, and hoped it
was the Valhalla Gang Loki VR gamer. He hadn’t
checked, he realised now. That was dangerous, as all
the rest of the nicely wrapped boxes had neat little
IOU messages written in Nichole’s perfect rounded
handwriting. Promices for later, when Max bounced
back into the black with his bank account. As he
always did.
The little blond boy rushed up, and, mouth
open wide in anticipation, he picked up the redwrapped present. He held it to his ear, and shook
it. No sound. He grinned with excitement, and sat
down cross-legged on the diamond patterned marble
floor. He ignored his mother’s admonishment to
stand up or he would catch his death of cold.

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