Dead of Winter
Kealan Patrick Burke
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 by Kealan Patrick
Burke
Smashwords Edition, License
Notes
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"Snowmen" originally
appeared in Cemetery Dance
#54 , ed. Richard Chizmar, 2008
"Doomsday Father Christmas"
originally published in Darker
Discoveries , ed. James Beach,
2008
"Black Static" originally
published in Festive Fear: Global
Edition , ed. Steve Clark, 2010
"They Know" originally
published in Ravenous Ghosts (second edition), Delirium Books, 2004
"Visitation Rights" copyright 2010 by
Kealan Patrick Burke. Appears here for the first time.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction: It Comes But Once A
Year
Snowmen
Doomsday Father
Christmas
Black Static
They Know
Visitation
Rights
About the
Author
INTRODUCTION: IT COMES BUT
ONCE A YEAR
A few years ago, while engineering our
annual Christmas get-together, a friend of mine sent me a picture
he had drawn when he was a kid. At first glance it looked just like
any other kid's drawing: crude, charming, and colorful, a depiction
of good 'ol Jolly Saint Nick, cruising across the sky in a sleigh
laden with gifts, while eager stick-figure children waited in the
streets below, arms held aloft in typical childish glee.
At least, this is what
I thought I was
seeing. But then I looked, really looked at the picture, and noticed something odd:
Santa was flying upside-down, the gifts tumbling free from his
sleigh to be smashed into dust in the (and this was something else
it took a moment for me to notice) oddly empty streets.
I was immediately inspired to write a
story based on that picture, and that's what I did. I dedicated the
piece to my friend, and emailed it to him. He responded with such
enthusiasm, I decided that, in lieu of a Christmas card (which I'd
been typically lazy in sending that year), I would send the story
to everyone in my email address book instead. The response was
positive, if a little dispirited, and this I fully expected.
Generally at Christmas, you send people cheerful messages. The
message I'd sent in "Doomsday Father Christmas" was anything but,
and that went on to become a trademark characteristic of my annual
"gifts". The next year I sent out "Black Static", another sad and
tragic piece. This year, those unfortunate enough to have shared
their email address with me at some point over the past ten years
got the gut-wrenching "Visitation Rights", published here for the
first time. All the stories were dark and devoid of
hope.
But then, I do write horror
stories, ladies and gentlemen. The dark stuff. And I have to admit,
it gives me a kind of perverse thrill to imagine you now, cuddled
up in the warm glow of a blazing fire, the tree lights blinking and
throwing maddened shadows up the wall. Perhaps it's snowing outside
and there's a classic Christmas movie on the TV, and there you are
all cozy on the couch, Kindle or Nook in hand, reading these words
with a sinking feeling that maybe, just maybe, herein there lies
little in the way of Christmas cheer. And you'd be right. What
follows is grim stuff, my friend. Christmas fear , if you prefer. And if it rattles
you a bit, gives you a chill despite the fire, then I've done what
I set out to do with these tales.
Now let's get to it, shall
we?
Before you catch a cold.
Or the cold catches you ...
SNOWMEN
The two men standing in Ryan’s
backyard were like irises in the eyes of winter.
And they were looking right at
him.
The boy stood in his
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