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SHANVILLE ENTERPRISES ARE PROUD TO PRESENT, THIS CHRISTMAS, FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT, THE ONE AND ONLY SHANTA CLAUS IN A STIRRING GHOULTIDE TALE ...

MERRY BLOODY CHRISTMAS !!!

[this story is set during and after the events described in Tunnels Of Blood]

* * * * *

"Move your backside!" Mrs Claus snapped, giving her husband a sharp dig in the ribs. "It's Christmas Eve!"

"Already?" Mr Claus (Shanta to his friends) groaned. "It barely seems like five minutes since I laid my head down." It was Shanta's custom, once he finished delivering toys to all the girls and boys of the world each Christmas, to hit the sack and not get out of bed until the next December 25th rolled round (he had a TV set in the right-hand corner of his gigantic bed-- on which he could monitor the behaviour of every child -- and an in-built toilet in the left).

"Shift it, tubby!" Mrs Claus said, poking him again. "The elves have finished manufacturing and packing all the toys. The reindeer are fed and ready -- it's foggy out, so Rudolph's leading again this year. The clock's ticking, so get your huge, hairy -"

"OK!" Shanta barked before she could finish the insult. He swung his legs out (he didn't take his boots or suit off in bed) and yawned. "Couldn't you do it this year?" he asked meekly.

"I will if you'll handle the cooking and cleaning chores for the next twelve months," his wife retorted. "Those elves don't feed themselves, and if you saw the amount of snow I have to shovel off the front porch every morning ..."

"Bloody elves!" Shanta moaned. "Bloody North Pole! Bloody Christmas!" He paused, sniffed the air -- there was a strong, unpleasant stench -- then had a quick look under the covers, at the corner where the toilet was situated. "Bloody cowboy plumbers!!!"

* * * * *

Shanta felt better once he was off the ground, flying high above the earth in his sleigh, the air gusting through his thick white hair and beard (though it wasn't much fun when one of the reindeer broke wind!). He moaned about Christmas a lot, but he loved it really. The joy of giving presents, the wonder of seeing innocent little children's faces as they slept, the countless free glasses of whiskey and slices of cake -- a truly special time! After a few warm-up circuits of the globe, he got down to the job of delivering the presents, which bulged out of a sack at the rear of the sleigh (a magical sack, far bigger on the inside than on the outside). A computer screen was attached to the dashboard, on which his famous list was displayed -- Mrs Claus' idea, and though Shanta had resisted to begin with, he was glad of it now (he could surf the internet as he worked!). The list was arranged regionally and alphabetically. There was a smiley face icon beside the names of good boys and girls, which he clicked on to find out what toys they'd asked for, and a dark cloud icon beside the names of those who'd been bad (the bold boys and girls got no toys; instead, when he landed on their roof, Shanta sent one of the reindeer down the chimney, and the animal left soft, moist droppings all over the sleeping brat).

Time wasn't quite the same for Shanta as it was for humans -- for every second which passed, he experienced ten minutes. So a minute of human time equalled ten hours Shanta time, and an hour of human time was six hundred hours (the same as twenty-five days) in Shanta's realm. This was why he was able to cover the entire world and every home in the space of one night -- there was no truth to the rumour that Shanta was able to move at the speed of light; in fact, he and the reindeer rarely went faster than thirty miles an hour.

* * * * *

After a couple of million homes -- and a couple of million glasses of whiskey and brandy -- Shanta landed on the roof of the Leonard household and paused nervously, studying his computer screen. Although the boy who lived here (Steve Leonard, though most people knew him as Steve Leopard) was by no stretch of the imagination a nice, pleasant child, he hadn't broken any rules this year, and so was due a present. Shanta would rather have flown on without stopping, but the law was the law. So, with a heavy sigh, he took the requested present out of his sack and slid down the chimney.

"About time," someone said as Shanta wriggled out of the fire grate.

Shanta whirled around defensively, then relaxed when he saw Steve Leonard sitting in a chair, face as grim as ever. "You're not supposed to see me!" Shanta complained. "Why aren't you in bed asleep?"

"I sleep during the day," Steve said. "You know that, otherwise you'd have waited another few hours until I'd dropped off."

Shanta sighed glumly. That was one of the rules -- he had to deliver during the night, not by day, so if people stayed up all night, there was a good chance they'd spot him. "Do you want your present now, or will I stick it under the tree?" Shanta asked.

"Give it to me now," Steve said, rising. He smiled when Shanta passed over the package, but it was a nasty smile, and Shanta shivered when he saw it. Without any hesitation, Steve ripped open the parcel and held up the items within -- a book entitled Vampires, And How To Hunt Them -- The 17th Edition, a small but heavy hammer, and a set of six steel-tipped stakes. "Exxxxxxcellent!" Steve purred, laying the book up on the shelf over his chair (knocking the 16th edition out of the way at the same time), then slowly stroking the tips of the sharp stakes.

"Careful," Shanta warned him. "You could cut yourself."

"Not me," Steve replied in a low, creepy voice. "I've nothing to fear from stakes -- though I know a pair who do ..."

Shanta cleared his throat uneasily. "I suppose I'd best be off then. Um. Would you like a nice computer game or CD next year, instead of -"

"No!" Steve cut in. "I want the 18th edition of the hunter's guide, a new hammer and more stakes."

"Very well," Shanta shrugged. "Though it all seems rather morbid to me ..." Without any further ado, he let himself back up the chimney, leaving the cold, scary boy alone in the room with his guide, hammer, stakes ... and dark, dreadful dreams of warped revenge.

* * * * *

From Steve Leonard's, it was a short hop and a skip to the Shan household, where young Annie Shan was tucked up in bed, snoring like a bear. Shanta smiled sadly as he gazed down upon Annie and the doll she was sleeping with -- a dark-haired, brown-eyed doll, who looked quite a lot like her "lost" brother Darren (Annie and her parents believed Darren was dead, though Shanta knew better.)

"I wish I could tell you the truth," Shanta sighed, resting his palm against the poor girl's warm cheek. "But I'm not allowed to interfere." Sighing again, he left her present -- another doll; this one looked even more like the brother she loved and missed than her old one -- in the sock at the foot of her bed, then turned to leave. Out of the corner of an eye, he spotted movement near the curtains, paused, then stooped and snapped up a large, harmless spider. "You'll have to come with me, little lady," Shanta said, pocketing the spider until they got outside, where he planned to release it. "Annie's not fond of spiders -- she'd squish you flat and scream for an hour if she woke up and saw you. It's all to do with her brother ..."

* * * * *

Shanta had to pay a call to another gloomy household a couple of hours later -- where the Grest children lived. It used to be a happy, vibrant home, until one of the kids (bright, loquacious Sam) ran foul of a rampaging Wolf Man not so long ago. The family was starting to pull itself back together, but it wasn't easy. The previous Christmas, the children had asked for the usual mix of toys, dolls and games -- which Shanta duly delivered -- but they hadn't taken any pleasure from them. This year, the kids had clubbed together and asked for one big present between them. It was the sort of crazy request Shanta normally ignored, but this year, because he felt sorry for the family, he'd decided to make an exception.

"Come on," he said, reaching into his sack. "Out with you." He produced a small, furry, confused animal, one of the North Pole's natural inhabitants -- a young polar bear cub. The Grest kids had loads of pets -- dogs, cats, goldfish, a goat and more -- but they'd always wished for something extra special, something they couldn't find anywhere else. Shanta's elves had spent many months working undercover among polar bears, picking the right cub -- they wanted one which wouldn't grow too large, or develop a mean temper -- and finally they'd located an orphan which fit the bill perfectly. "Be good," Shanta whispered, laying the bear down by the tree in the living room. "Don't make a mess on the carpet." The bear looked up at the red-cloaked, bearded man, and whined happily.

"Oh!" Shanta said, stopping. "I almost forgot ..." Returning to the bear, he stuck a small badge on its chest. In the center of the badge, in large red letters, were the words which Shanta hoped would bring a long-lasting smile to the Grest children's faces: "Take good care of the cub. His name is SAM."

* * * * *

More countries, more houses, more alcohol. Shanta didn't get drunk -- he could drain all the whiskey in the world and still remain sober -- though he became quite merry and started singing to the reindeer (rude versions of traditional Christmas songs, such as "Hark the Herald Angels Smell" and "Away in a Pigsty"), as he did most years. Those closest to the sleigh groaned and jammed their heads down, though Rudolph -- way out in front, where he could barely hear the songs -- smiled to himself and concentrated on steering them safely through the fog, guided by his glowing red nose.

Late in the night, with most of the world covered, Shanta came to a halt in a forest. The reindeer were hungry and needed to be fed. Passing out feeding-bags from his magical sack, he left them munching and went for a short stroll to stretch his chubby legs. As he was turning to come back, he heard moaning sounds to his right. Curious, he tiptoed across to investigate, and discovered a large, bulky, bearded man sleeping rough under a bush, shivering from the cold. While Shanta studied the man's face, trying to put a name to it, the man squeezed himself tightly and whimpered in his sleep: "My hands! My hands!" Shanta recognised the voice and knew now who this was. Though he couldn't recall the man's real name, as a kid he'd been called Reggie Veggie.

"The poor guy looks like he's had a tough time," Shanta muttered to himself (he never bothered to keep tabs on children once they grew up and stopped believing in him). "And he used to be such a nice child. Very polite and concerned for the environment."

"My hands! My hands!" Reggie Veggie (RV, as he preferred to be called) moaned again.

Shanta couldn't see RV's hands -- he had his arms tucked inside the body of his coat -- but he guessed they must be blue from the cold. "I know!" he beamed. "I'll leave a little present -- something to cheer him up when he wakes." Hurrying back to his sleigh, Shanta returned with a thick pair of gloves, which he laid in the snow by the sleeping man's head. He smiled as he stepped away, pleased to have performed this small good deed. As he left the snoozing RV, he chuckled warmly and said, "I wish I could be here in the morning to see his face when he spots the gloves ..."

* * * * *

Next stop -- the Cirque Du Freak. Many of the performers and backstage crew didn't celebrate Christmas -- their lives were full of wonder and magic every night of the year -- but some of the children had sent letters to Shanta. He parked his sleigh next to a large tent, grabbed several bags full of toys and books, and hurried around the vans, dropping off the presents. He ran into Mr Tall and Rhamus Twobellies outside one of the vans, and stopped to chat. Mr Tall was an old friend of his, but this was the first time he'd been introduced to Rhamus Twobellies, and the large man was understandably curious and asked lots of questions about Shanta's job and powers.

Eventually, after a few drinks and some of the tastiest sandwiches he'd even eaten (prepared by Truska, the bearded lady), Shanta said his goodbyes and returned to his sleigh. Hopping up onto his seat, he took hold of the reins and called out to Rudolph, "Come on then, Rudy, let's ..." He stopped.

The reindeer with the red nose was nowhere to be seen. "Rudolph?" Shanta shouted. "Where are you? Stop messing around! We have to ..." He came to a sickening halt. In the tent behind the sleigh, he could hear loud, ripping, munching sounds. With a terrifying premonition, Shanta lifted the flap of the tent and peered inside. Several small people in blue robes and hoods stood within, gathered in a circle. In the centre of the circle were the tattered remains of a reindeer who'd been torn to blood-drenched pieces. As Shanta watched, aghast, one of the Little People picked up a huge red nose from among the scraps and popped it into his wide, sharp-toothed mouth.

"Oh no!" Shanta groaned, letting the flap fall back into place. "Not again!!!"

* * * * *

Shanta was in a foul mood the rest of the night. What worried him even more than losing Rudolph was the reception he could expect back home when Mrs Claus found out. The Little People had eaten several of Shanta's reindeer over the years, and his wife always kicked him around the bed for a month when he came home shy one of the flying creatures. He considered lying to her -- he could say Rudolph had been hit by a low-flying plane -- but she'd see through him and make life even more unbearable. Best to come clean, take his punishment like a man, and send the elves out to search for another red-nosed reindeer to take Rudy's place next year ...

The fat man in the sleigh worked slowly after losing Rudolph -- dragging the night out as long as he could, in no rush to face the wrathful Mrs Claus -- and dawn was only minutes away (as humans measured time) when he delivered his second-to-last load of the night, to Debbie Hemlock, who had made a peculiar request this year -- besides her usual gifts, she'd asked for a pirate's hat and sword. Shanta knew the pirate gear wasn't for Debbie, that she meant to give the hat and sword to somebody else. He also knew she wouldn't be seeing that somebody else in the morning -- or ever again, probably. He thought about taking the hat and sword with him, to personally pass on to the intended party, but in the end he decided to leave them, so that Debbie would have some small memento of the boy who meant so much to her. He stuck the felt hat and curved plastic sword on top of the other presents, under the tree in her bedroom (not as neatly decorated as it normally was, he noted critically), and left, in a hurry to beat the dawn and make his final visit of the long, tiring Eve.

* * * * *

He found the trio in a hotel a few miles beyond the city where Debbie Hemlock lived. They'd booked into two separate rooms, but were gathered together in the larger room when Shanta arrived. The snake-boy was sitting on the bed, while the vampire attended to the large ugly wound on his right arm and shoulder. The half-vampire was watching.

"I still say you shouldn't have involved them," Evra muttered, wincing as the vampire rubbed spit into the cut where some of his scales had been hacked off. "If the plan hadn't worked ..."

"It was a risk," Darren agreed, "but there was no other way to get you back alive. If we hadn't -"

"Quiet!" Mr Crepsley snapped, head jerking towards the window, where Shanta was eavesdropping. "I heard a noise outside."

"Nobody knows we're here!" Darren gasped, jumping to his feet, fear in his eyes. "Do they?"

"It's OK," Shanta said, slipping through a tiny crack at the side of the window, materialising in front of them. "It's only me."

"Oh," Mr Crepsley said, relaxing. "I have not seen you in quite some time -- fifty years or more, I think. How have you been?"

"Not too bad," Shanta smiled.

"Is that ...?" Evra asked, his reptilian eyes widening.

"Must be," Darren said. "It couldn't be anyone else." He looked up at the smiling man in the red suit (Shanta's clothes were the same colour as Mr Crepsley's, but there the similarity ended). "But what are you doing here?" Darren asked.

"Delivering presents," Shanta grinned. "I know you didn't ask for anything, but after all the trouble you three have been through recently, I figured you deserved a treat. Here ..." He handed Evra a tube of green ointment. "Rub that into your wound. It will take the worst of the pain away, and help you heal quicker."

"Great!" Evra said, taking the top off the tube and applying the ointment immediately.

"For you, Larten," Shanta said, passing a tub of sun-tan lotion to the bemused vampire.

"I hardly think I will have much use for this," Mr Crepsley noted drily.

"It might come in handy if you ever get caught in the sun," Shanta disagreed. "Hold onto it -- there's no telling what the future might hold." Shanta turned to face Darren and his smile softened. "They've been a hard few years, eh, master Shan?"

"I've known easier times," Darren admitted.

"There's not much I can do for you," Shanta said, "but this might bring some joy into your life, at least for a while." He gave Darren a video cassette.

"Thanks," Darren said, examining the tape, which was unmarked. "But I don't have a video recorder."

"That's easily fixed," Shanta laughed, and produced a small recorder and scart lead. "Hook it up to the TV, and off you go."

"What's on it?" Darren asked.

"You'll find out," Shanta winked, and without any farewells, he slipped away again and headed back for the North Pole, his beloved bed, a year of rest -- and the cutting tongue of the indomitable Mrs Claus.

* * * * *

"Stick it in," Evra urged Darren once the video recorder had been hooked up to the small hotel TV.

"Any idea what it is?" Darren asked Mr Crepsley.

"None," Mr Crepsley said, "but knowing Kris Kringle as I do, I imagine it is something harmless."

It took Darren several seconds to push the tape into the machine and hit the PLAY button. When he did, a face burst into life on the TV screen and yelled, "Merry Christmas!" Darren recognised the face instantly -- it was his own.

"What the ...?" he began, then froze as the camera spun from his own face to three others which were just as familiar -- his Dad, Mum and sister Annie. "Merry Christmas!" they all roared, toasting the camera with full glasses of wine.

"What is it?" Evra asked, as the people on the TV sung songs and cracked jokes and played games with each other.

"The last Christmas I spent at home," Darren said hollowly, eyes glued to the screen. "Uncle Derek stayed with us that year and video-taped us. I never saw the video afterwards -- he was supposed to send us a copy, but Uncle Derek was never the most reliable sort ..."

The three of them watched the TV for a long while, as a younger, fresher, innocent Darren enjoyed a simple Christmas with his parents, sister and uncle. As the people on screen began opening their Christmas presents, Darren's eyes welled up with tears. Mr Crepsley tapped Evra's uninjured shoulder and nodded towards the door. "I think Darren would rather watch the rest by himself," he said quietly. The pair retired to the other bedroom as quietly as they could, to sleep for the day.

Darren didn't notice his friends leaving. He was lost in the world of the video, the faces of his family, and memories of happier, carefree days. He watched the tape to the very end -- all three hours of it -- then immediately rewound to the start. "Cheers, Shanta," he said softly. He was crying, but they were warm, happy tears. "This is the best present ever." He hit PLAY again, then settled back and spent the day re-living that simple, joyous, carefree Christmas past.

* * * * *

MERRY CHRISTMAS, SHANSTERS. HAVE A GREAT NEW YEAR.

DARREN.

* * * * *