Chapter Four:

The ancient book, though perfectly preserved, seemed somewhat worn at the edges. It was a book of all the things that go ‘bump’ in the night. La Livra de Boogie; The Boogie Book. The creature, shrunken and little more than a walking pillow, read over the book with glowing red eyes. He looked nothing at all like the monster he’d once been. He was the Boogie Man; the most evil of the mythical creatures.

"Mr. Oogie Boogie says there’s trouble close at hand. They’d better pay attention now, cause I’m the Boogie Man." He rasped, remembering a long ago song and a long ago foe. Jack Skelington wasn’t the Pumpkin King anymore, and who knew where he was. As for Santa, well he was still around jingling his bells and delivering his baubles. He may not be able to exact his revenge on Jack, but Santa…well, that was another matter.

"Sandy Claws…" he hissed, calling forth any and all bugs in the area. Cockroaches, spiders, worms, centipedes, even butterflies all came to him, and built him up to his former glory. Not all of him had fallen into his Boogie Stew, and those who hadn’t laid the eggs that would be responsible for the death of Christmas; and all holidays.

~ * ~

‘Why was I the only one who grew up…?’ he wondered silently. He’d avoided telling Santa his age, or for that matter anything about his personal life, but the question that hadn’t bothered him since the early 1400’s was starting to nag at his curl-covered brain.

He couldn’t remember anything about himself or his past. He couldn’t remember a time before Christmas, or for that matter any of the elvish history he’d once been so proud of keeping. He could remember telling the little elvish babies – who appeared from time to time when a new star would rise in the sky – of the elves of the past. How they had always lived under the blanket the Aurora Borealis, eternally young and eternally beautiful. He hadn’t told that story in a long time. There hadn’t been a baby elf in the North Pole for ages.

Yes, he remembered the story, but he’d long ago forgotten the credence he’d once given it. That was why he flew off every so often, to mingle with humans and their ignorance. They all believed in something, even if it was in nothing at all. They were simple, predictable beings and sometimes he pretended that he too had that humanity that allowed them to have faith. When he looked upon the assured, unwavering eyes of the younger elves, however, his doubt was redoubled. The other elves…they were so certain about their purpose, yet here he was; oldest of them all, and he could take no comfort in faith. He was too old for faith.

He sighed, cleared his thoughts, and made his way toward Santa’s office. He and Curtis had been summoned under orders of Mother Nature herself, and he could not keep the woman waiting.

She – it seemed – was there to bring forth tidings of a greatly disastrous nature. It was this disturbing news that brought the Easter Bunny out of his hole, the Pumpkin Queen; Jackie O’Lantern from Halloween Town, the Tooth Fairy from his enchanted dentist’s chair, and Father Time from his watchtower.

The news was of the Angel who brought the Light of the Aurora Borealis. She had given up her position. She wanted to be a human again. This meant that someone had to take her place. Unfortunately, only a human girl could fill this position, and was only able to do so by wishing it in the presence of Mother Nature herself. Should a new Light Bringer not be found before the first of the year, the Northern Lights would go out.

Forever.

"So we have to find a new Light Bringer." said the Pumpkin Queen, arching an ebony eyebrow.

"Yes." stated Mother Nature. Bernard felt the colors drain from his face and he exchanged glances with both Santa then Curtis, and sighed.

"I don’t understand, what happens if we don’t get a new Light Bringer?" asked Scott Calvin.

"Because if we don’t find a new Light Bringer, all of the elves – everywhere – will loose their magic." said Bernard. That much about elvish history he could remember.

Scott’s eyes widened and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. One look at Mother Nature’s stone-hard face told him that Bernard was not only right, but dead right. If the elves lost their magic, they would become human. Humans grew up, stopped believing in Santa, and died.

"Okay, so we find a new Light Bringer." he said. "Anyone in particular you want to nominate, Mother Nature?"

The woman who’s skin glittered as if sprinkled by flecks of gold, shook her head. She then disappeared in a blaze of golden leaves, leaving the assembly to their own devices. The Tooth Fairy sighed, said something about a tingle in his back molar – which meant that another child had lost a tooth – and vanished. Jackie O’Lantern adjusted her large, black bat’s wings and bowed to her peers.

"I’ll keep my ear to the ground, and listen for a wish." She vowed. Santa thanked her, and she disappeared as easily as her predecessor. As for the Easter Bunny and all the rest, they made similar promises and returned to their homes, so that they could busy themselves with their own problems. Of all the mythical beings and spirits of holidays, Santa Clause was the only one who enlisted the help of elves.

"We’re on our own, aren’t we?" said Curtis.

"You can’t blame them, they’ve all got their own holidays to worry about." said Santa, frowning.

"Yes, but what are we supposed to do?" demanded Bernard, eyes wide. He may have been feeling the weight of his duties, but to have them torn away because of one selfish angel was too much. He may have felt a slight longing to be with people his own age – or at least with people who were physically his age, at the very least – but he did not want to become human. He did not want to loose the only job he’d known for countless years.

"Okay, we need a plan." said Scott. He sipped on his cocoa, deep in thought and without expression, then with some little reluctance he looked the elves before him. "Bernard, I want you to go scouting. You can stay with Laura and Neil."

"But Santa—?" began Curtis, who did not want to have to bear the responsibility that had creased the eldest elf’s forehead on more than one occasion.

"If anyone can do this, its Bernard, and you know it, Curtis." stated Santa.

Bernard’s face paled for the second time that day. He was torn between two very important jobs, both of which would have unimaginable consequence if not done properly. On the one hand, he had to make sure everything went smoothly for Christmas Eve, otherwise it wouldn’t matter if he and his kinsmen had their magic or not. On the other hand, if he did not find a new Light Bringer, as it seemed only he could perform this miracle, he would loose his powers and grow old and die.

He wouldn’t be able to continue with that which he loved the most.

He sighed and shook Santa’s hand, telling the ancient-looking man that he would not let him down, and went to his room to pack some things. Curtis would take care of everything, though without the flair and style Bernard could, and he trusted the rest of the elves to do as they had always done. The decision was made that none of the other elves would know of the plight until the very last, that way they would not be distracted from their jobs. It was a good plan. Now, all Bernard had to do, was find a new Light Bringer.

Easily done…

…

Right?

~ * ~

Cassandra stormed onto Monroe Manor, eye makeup smeared and face red from crying. She didn’t bother talking to her sisters, who were dumbfounded at the sight of the first born so horrifyingly unkempt. She was obviously upset, and it didn’t take long for her siblings to realize why. They recognized "the face" instantly, and knowing Cassandra, she’d be taking it pretty hard.

"I’ve never been dumped in my life!" she screamed, throwing a stuffed bear against the wall. It had been a present for Ryan, for their anniversary.

"Cassy, its not your—"

"Well obviously it is!" screamed the girl. "I mean, he didn’t even say why! He could have said why!"

She curled herself into a ball, disregarding all dignity, and cried, too tired to care or even want to care. Her eyes burned from all the crying she had done and had yet to do, and the more she thought about it the more she hurt. She wanted to die. Was she not pretty enough? Was she not a good enough girlfriend? She was never the dumpee, but the dumper, and she wanted to know why.

That had been last night. Now, daylight shown into Cassandra’s bedroom, and she lay sprawled on her bed, snoring lightly.

"Cassy, you awake?" called Francesca. The girl with the pale eyes and black nail varnish woke up slowly, feeling as though she’d been hit by a run-away truck.

She hated being so pathetic. Had it only been last night that she’d been dumped by the first boy she’d ever really liked? Cassandra Monroe was wallowing. She hadn’t had a good wallow in quite some time, though this much could be read by simply looking at the scattered tissues, chocolate wrappers, and sad movie sleeves.

"What do you want?" she called, arching an eyebrow at the door.

"Charlie’s on the phone." Replied the middle Monroe sister.

"And he wants to talk to me?"

"Yes."

Sighing, Cassandra rose and stumbled toward her vanity, where her phone sat. A moment later, Francesca hung up the phone, and Sandra muttered a half-asleep hello into the receiver.

"Hey, Sandra." said Charlie.

"What’s up?" asked the confused girl.

"I have a proposition for you." he began. Cassandra snorted into the phone and arched an eyebrow at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She was crimson in the eye and white in the cheek. A lovely way to start the day, if one asked her.

"I hope this isn’t dirty." She stated.

"…No…" the boy said, blushing. She knew he was blushing. She could practically feel him blush. "Bernard is staying in town for a bit, and I was hoping you would be kind enough to show him around and whatnot."

"Why can’t you do it?" she demanded. There was no answer. This made her smirk. "Is this so big sis won’t follow you and lil’ sis around? How do you plan on getting rid of Frankie?"

"She’s not quite as difficult as you are." he replied.

‘Go on, Sandra. Its not like you’re going to have an overly jammed schedule for the next month or so.’ One side of her brain told her. ‘Yeah, but showing curly-locks around means I have to get dressed and stop my brooding.’ The other part said.

"Okay, Calvin, but I want a big cin-a-bun and an equally large coffee cake muffin for this." she said.

"Fair enough," said Santa’s son. Then, he added, after a bit of thought: "And no sex."

"With curly locks?" demanded Cassandra.

"Uh-huh."

"Don’t worry about it. I don’t fancy boys who wear body shimmer and funny hats."

"What about that cowboy fetish you had last summer?" he asked. It was Cassandra’s turn to blush, and instead of replying she slammed the phone onto the receiver. She was going to kill Vanessa.

End of Chapter Four.


Chapter 5