Unholy Trinity: The Holiday Things by Shanti Leonard
Our church worships at the altar of the Unholy Trinity. Its gospels are delivered as a trio of dark drabbles, linked so that Three become One. All hail the power of the Three.
Jack-O-Halloween
Halloween bled out into the day, spilling forth from the ether in wispy low hanging fog. Crows perched on slanted pickets, ushering in the dusk with their silhouettes, and beckoning trick-or-treaters out under the overcast sky.
The jack picked its way through the lawn toward the open window, grass nearly up to its chest. It stopped below the sill, looking around, tungsten reflecting in its eyeholes, thin limbs shining wet in the glow.
No children around. So nobody could see it. Time to climb inside, cling to the adult necks, drain their memories and ambition through its wicked invisible bite.
Thankstaking
Thanksgiving was here. Brown and orange. Gravy thick and plentiful. Spices swirling in the autumn air, filling the lungs of huddled families, giving them the ability to all talk at once.
The taker was in the wall, watching through a vent, eating up all the thanks not given through its twisted mouth—teeth spiraling, yellow eyes bugging past the sockets.
At night when the people were sleeping it’d crawl into their ears and drink up their understanding…only a little at a time…
It said a prayer, thankful for the gathering. Now it could send its babies to new feeding homes.
Dancing In Their Heads
Christmas Eve was the most plentiful night of the year for the hiders. So many colorful lights casted shadows for them to melt into. And the dreams that night were so joyful, wonderous, and juicy.
They would crawl far up into the sleeper’s nostrils and eat those dreams, defecate out nightmares that would clog up the folds of their brains, eventually leaking into those people’s thoughts, and crippling their minds.
Hiders always wished for blankets of white snow, dancing sugar plums, and presents for the people. They’d wish for music and mirth…so their holiday feast would be lush and delicious.
Shanti Leonard
Shanti grew up in a tiny town in the mountains of Northern California, riding bikes and sleds, and playing in the forest surrounding his house. Many people who live in his hometown claim some sort of experience with the supernatural, but he remains skeptical…with unexplained experiences of his own.
His adventures have led him to Hawaii, Texas, and the beautiful, but obviously imaginary, land of Los Angeles, where he sometimes makes movies. His short fiction has appeared in the anthology MOOD READER and his novels include the coming-of-age horror OD AND ED.
