pulp fiction

Saving Christmas – Slay Bells: Episode 3

Previously on Saving Christmas: Slay Bells

Blip ‘Wiry’ Skipperson and his elite team of special forces black ops elves were on a cocoa break when all heckerdoodles broke loose in the workshop. Unknown invaders blew up part of the workshop. Just over twenty four hours until the Big Day, and the Big Man’s Sleigh had been stolen. The team tracked the sleigh on the Global Present-tracking System to an abandoned toy lab facility that hadn’t been in use since the early seventies. When they entered the facility, the team came face to face with a group of toys who had gone bad.

– December 23, 23:23 hours

 

I know we at the North Pole have the reputation for being nothing but Nice, but every now and then there’s an outbreak of Naughty. It usually hits the toys first. We never know why, but sometimes, toys just go Naughty.

The ring of five porcelain faced dolls stared at me. And I couldn’t look away. I was rooted in one spot. Sometimes, it just doesn’t matter how tough you are. When you look into the glassy eyes of Naughty, the Naughty looks into you.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear my team yelling.

But in front of me, all I could see and hear was the ring of dollies. Staring. Saying, “Come play with us.”

A strong hand grabbed each shoulder of mine and yanked me backwards. The next thing I knew, I was looking at the ceiling. As soon as my brain unmushed itself and started cranking away again, I heard a loud ‘thunk’, and a following ‘clop’ on the other side of the door. I looked up, and saw the blade of a knife sticking out of the door.

“What the reindeer dung was that?” I asked.

“Jacknife-in-a-box,” said Shade, “I read about them. Nasty little things. They can spring across the entire room, and they’ll do it just to get a chance at stabbing you in the face.”

“That thing would have stuffed my stocking. Thanks,” I said as I sat up, “How’s about we leave that room alone.”

Cambo chomped down on her candy cane. “How’s about we open up the door again and toss in some T-4.”

“Bad idea. Don’t want to alert the enemy.”

Cambo sneered, “Yeah, well anything Naughty is the enemy.”

“Can it, Cammy. We’ve got a mission to do. The mission comes first.”

As soon as I was upright, I threw another hand signal, and Shade slipped south down the corridor. Longshot trailed after her, his candy cane crossbow ready to provide whatever cover she might need.

Before I followed them, I took a moment to use my lock picking tools to relock the door. No sense in taking any chances. You never know if a toy is smart enough to figure out a doorknob or not. But I didn’t want to take a chance.

The east hallway we were in turned right and headed across the southern third of the building. The southern section of the building was all dorm rooms. This was where the workers and toy lab scientists lived. Shade stopped when she got to the first of the three large doors along the southern wall of the corridor. She clicked her radio.

Something was in there.

I slipped ahead to unlock the door, but when I got there I saw that this door didn’t even have a lock. It was just a large, loose swinging double door. There had been a sign on the wall next to the door, but it had fallen off the wall at some point in the last forty years and it was stuck in the snow and ice that had accumulated along the edge of the wall.

Shade opened the door, and we filed in, silently.

There was no one in sight. We were in a long room, about fifteen by forty. I could see through dirty windows that the room to our right was a cafeteria, and to our left it looked like one of the rooms had a lot of old gym equipment, and the other had a load of old rotted out comfy chairs, some bookshelves, and a movie projector.

At the end of the long room were a pair of Christmas trees. Lush, dark green trees. Just standing there. There was no one in sight.

We prowled around the room, but there was nothing.

“Sorry boss,” said Shade, “I could have sworn I heard something.”

The trees rustled in the breeze.

“Well, since we’re here, we might as well check out this section,” I said. “Shade, Cambo, check out the rec room. Doc, Longshot, come with me and check out the cafeteria.”

The cafeteria was about what you’d expect. Lots of tables. The kitchen along the back was separated from the rest of the room by a half-wall and a counter that you could serve food over.

“Hey boss, you think the pasta’s still good?” Longshot held up a can with a faded label.

“Trick question,” said Doc Bubbly, “The pasta was never good to begin with.”

Longshot poked his head into the walk-in freezer, which, up here in the North Pole, is just a door to a drafty uninsulated room. “Um… boss, you may wanna check this out.”

There was a ramp down. It had been blown up and collapsed, just like the one back in the main workshop. And next to the rubble was a familiar red bag. We’d found Santa’s Sack. Now all we needed was the sleigh.

I left a radio tag on the sack. If we didn’t make it back in time, the rescue teams would be able to find it as soon as the storm cleared up enough for radio contact.

We made our way back out, and Cammy and Shade were waiting for us. “Nothing here,” said Cammy, “We were waiting for you guys to check out the rec room.”

She started to saunter towards the door in the back of the room next to the two Christmas trees.

One of the pines rustled in the breeze.

We were indoors. And we hadn’t just opened any doors. There was no breeze.

“Cambo, duck and cover!” I yelled, but it was too late. Those weren’t Christmas trees, those were Wild Pines. Before Cammy could react, the tree spun at high speed and branch-slapped her so hard that she flew back across the room.

Always on target, Longshot fired. The sharpened candy cane hit dead center, scoring a hole in the tree’s trunk and sticking fast. Sap dripped from the wound, but a little poke isn’t going to stop a Wild Pine. Two of them was going to be a tall order. And elves have never been big on height.

Doc panicked, and threw a bottle of medicinal hot buttered rum at the trees. It splashed, covering one of them with something that smelled absolutely delicious, but now wasn’t the time to indulge. The tree panicked and tried to shake it off. Anything that’s anti-Christmas gets hurt by our Christmas juju just as much as we get healed by it.

We’ve got nothing against them, but Wild Pines think that we’re their mortal enemies. They blame us for the yearly massacre of their brethren in the name of our holiday. They’re not actually Naughty. If anything, their problem is that they think we’re the Naughty ones.

But now wasn’t a time to try and negotiate. Now was a time to chop us down a tree. I pulled out my wooden workshop mallet and charged. I got a solid hit in, and broke off a few branches. But the Wild Pine just spun around again, and sent me flying back onto my cinnamon buns. While I was on my behind, I heard a yell from what was usually our quietest teammate.

“Hey, you ugly sons of birches!” shouted Shade, “I’m gonna cut you down to size!”

Shade specializes in what she calls ‘defrosting.’ Most of her weaponry is made to do maximum damage to ice and snow creatures. But the ice axe she keeps on her belt as a backup weapon can do plenty of damage to wood too. She charged in, ducking under the tree’s wild spin, and chopped squarely into its trunk. It shrieked, a sound I don’t care to describe, and tried to knock her back.

But Shade is anything if not tenacious. She grabbed the incoming branch and cracked it in two. Then she yanked the axe out of the wood and hit it again. And again. The other Wild Pine tried to get around it, but Shade was too quick for it. She chopped a fourth time, and the tree toppled over, creaking in pain.

Then our next quietest team member shouted something that I never thought I’d hear her say. “Fire in the hole!”

Shade took the cue and jumped back out of range. I saw Doc Bubbly toss a soda can at the remaining tree. It trailed brown liquid through the air, then splashed on the ground in front of the Wild Pine, adding a cola smell to the already delicious hot buttered rum and fresh pine smells that were now permeating the room.

Then I saw Doc open up a packet of FizzChunks and throw them into the puddle leading to the tree. For someone who is supposed to do no harm, the Doc sure has a mean streak in her.

The FizzChunks and the soda started a chain reaction. A string of tiny explosions ran along the trail until it got to the tree. The tree that was soaked in hot buttered rum.

I’ve never heard a pine tree scream like that before. And as long as I live, I never want to hear it again. It wasn’t pretty.

“I love the smell of burning pine and hot buttered rum,” said Cambo as Longshot helped her back to her feet, “It smells like… Christmas.”

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s episode of Saving Christmas – Slay Bells.

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Saving Christmas – Slay Bells: Episode 2

Previously on Saving Christmas: Slay Bells

Blip ‘Wiry’ Skipperson and his elite team of special forces black ops elves were on a cocoa break when all heckerdoodles broke loose in the workshop. An explosion rocked the workshop, and the facility was invaded by a score of toy soldiers and a few ice-covered monstrosities known colloquially as ‘spikecicles.’ The team, acting with trained precision, took the enemy down. Hard.

– December 23, 23:12 hours

 

Whoever the invaders were, they really stuffed our stockings. The medical facilities were overrun with injured elves. The medics ran out of tinsel for stitches within five minutes of the attack, and they had to send half of our uninjured elves to go through the workshops and take down all the tinsel from the trees to use for stitches. The rest of the uninjured were sent down to tend the ribbon worms, just in case we did run out of tinsel and they had to resort to curling ribbon. Ribbon worms spin cocoons of curling ribbing before they transform into wrapping paper flies. We harvest the ribbon for use around the workshop.

“I’m not going to lie, ladies and gentlemen, this is not good news,” said General Pepperpants. “Whoever these invaders were, they cut a straight line through our defenses. The attacks you faced were just distractions. They got exactly what they came after. They took the Big Man’s fully prepped sleigh, and then trashed the backup sleighs on their way out.”

“Alpha team, we need you at helipad B. Your mission coordinator will be Sergeant Crumbles. Beta team, we’ve got some high-speed recon snowmobiles at tunnel entrance 3. Your mission coordinator will be Sergeant Buttermilk. We don’t know what we’re facing, boys and girls, so just be ready to take on whatever Naughtiness lies ahead. There’s no time to waste, grab your gear and get in gear!”

“Whoever the invaders were, they came in through some abandoned tunnels that used to lead to old facilities like this one. Then they collapsed the tunnel behind them.”

We could barely hear the mission coordinator over the headsets. Soundproofing can only do so much before the sound of helicopter rotors just decides to take a shortcut through your skull and rattle your eardrums from the inside, like a loosely wrapped present in the hands of a curious borderline Naughty.

“We picked up a blip on the Global Present-tracking System in this location a few minutes ago,” he was saying, “This facility has been abandoned for almost fifty years. All the toys produced here were phased out over time. There shouldn’t be any activity here, and the only explanation for the presence of presents here is the stolen sleigh. There’s a windstorm coming, and it’s whipping up the snow something fierce. Line of sight and communications will be a little shorter range than usual.”

“Whatever’s there, we’re ready,” I said. My team didn’t need to say anything. They were with me one hundred percent. We’re the best of the best. The elite. The Elf Special Forces. “We will do whatever it takes to get the Big Man’s ride back to base before the big day.”

I turned to my team. Cambo was checking her ammo pouches, even though I saw her check it before we left and right after we got into the air. She’s nothing if not thorough. Shade and Longshot were going over their weapons too. Shade was polishing her ice picks to a perfect gleam, and Longshot was looking over his candy cane crossbow with his perfect eagle eye, making sure there were no scratches or dings in the wood or the bowstring. Last, but not least, was Doc Bubbly. She was wrapping red and green ribbon around her hands, preparing for whatever work she might be called on to do. I nodded to the team. Maybe Beta team does pep talks before missions, I don’t know. I never saw the need. My team knows we’re the best. We know we have to win, or else Christmas won’t happen.

And there’s not an elf alive who would let that come to pass. My team and I would rather be gift wrapped alive and mulled over the fireplace than be the one to drop the ball on this one.

The chopper set down on an old cracked road. It hadn’t been repaved or used in a very long time. We all hopped out, and the chopper lifted back up again. The wind was already starting to pick up and toss the snow around, and as soon as the chopper was out of range, the snow started taking back the wide circle of empty road that the chopper’s downthrust had cleared off.

“Keep in touch. We’ll do what we can to stay within radio contact during the storm.”

Through the wind-whipped snow, we could see a large building ahead of us. They hadn’t had time to find the keys in storage, but that’s okay. Between the five of us, we can figure out how to get the doors open ourselves.

We followed the road to the abandoned workshop. Long-lived ice in the cracks glittered like tinsel. It was obvious the place hadn’t been used since at least the seventies. The windows were cracked, and what little peeling paint there was left on the walls was that ugly dull brown that they used to paint everything back then. I would have been willing to bet the carpets inside were orange. Or dull green. The front of the building faced west. Not that cardinal directions mean a whole lot this close to the North Pole.

Once we got close, Shade kneeled down and looked at the ground. “Boss, look here! In the lee of the building.”

Sure enough, where the building protected the snow from the wind there was a pair of sleigh tracks. Leading right up to the front door of the building.

The front doors had a padlock on them. On first glance, it looked like it was rusted shut over time. But on closer inspection, we could see where it had been oiled. It had been used recently. Cambo could easily blow the lock, but if there’s anyone hiding inside, that might blow our cover. Naughty kids may open their presents early, but I didn’t want any Naughties to find out about our presence here. I could have used an acid cartridge in my Super Squirter pistol that I keep as a backup weapon, but that would have taken too long. Longshot boosted me up so I could peek in the window. It was worse than I thought. The carpet was a mishmash of orange, brown and green fibers. It looked like the late sixties had thrown up in there. Gross.

According to the old map they dug out of the filing room, the front door opened up into an anteroom, with a door on the north end of the room for visitor tours and focus group testing, and a big Employees Only double door on the south end. The desk inside was old, and leaning at an angle. The walls were covered in posters for popular toys in the fifties and sixties. No signs of movement. No signs of habitation either. But there was a little bit of snow on the ground, tracked in by someone. Or something.

I threw a hand signal, and while I climbed down from Longshot’s shoulders, Shade slipped on ahead to recon.

A moment later I lost her in the snowy air. Her snow camo is excellent, and when it comes to disappearing, so is she. We moved slowly as a group around the building. The windows on the side were all cracked, but none looked like an easy target for a silent break-in. I checked the map they gave us. It looked like our best option was the back door. No surprise there. The back door is usually the best option.

When we got there, Shade appeared from around the corner. “We’re clear,” she said quietly, just loud enough to hear over our radios over the sound of the wind. My team fell into formation and covered me as I pulled out my multitool and started to work on the lock.

Once I was done, I pulled out an oil can and gave the hinges a once-over. We had to do this silently. No point in taking chances.

Shade slipped inside, as silently and subtle as her namesake.

A moment later we heard a click on the radio. That was a basic warning. There was someone, or something, in there with her.

A crunch sound echoed down the hall, then we heard a double click on the radio. Shade reappeared at the door. “Another spikecicle. Looks like it made a nest in one of the corners, it was just wandering around the hall. I heard some movement in the old toy labs though. Should check it out.”

The two toy labs took up most of the center of the building, with a focus group testing room on the north end of each one, and a focus group observation room running down the middle between them. One way mirrors kept anyone in the focus group testing rooms from knowing if and when they were being observed. The back door to Toy Lab B and Focus Group Testing Room B were right there in the hallway.

I kneeled down to fiddle with the lock, and sure enough, I could hear some rustling inside there too. And occasionally, there was a faint ‘clop’ sound. It took a minute, but eventually the lock clicked, and I eased the door open.

The room was covered in work tables and benches, with old tools strewn willy-nilly around the room. On the far side of the room, I saw a toy soldier, its joints squeaking with age, patrolling back and forth. A nasty looking jack-in-the-box was hopping from table to table, and every time it jumped I heard the sound of a switchblade opening and closing, right before the loud ‘clop’ of it landing on the next table. And sitting in a ring right in front of me were five dollies with cracked porcelain faces. They were holding hands.

As one, they turned to face me. They didn’t move. They just turned their heads.

“Come play with us,” came a chorus of cracked childlike voices.

I was frozen in their gaze, like a reindeer in headlights. All I could manage to say was, “Oh Jingle Bells.”

 

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s episode of Saving Christmas – Slay Bells.

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Serial vs. unstructured writing

Lately I’ve been getting more and more into the idea of serials, and perhaps even seriously podcasting audiobook/audiodrama versions of serial fiction. I’m actually contemplating finding other writers and voice-over people and actually getting into serious online publishing. The internet seems like a fertile place for serial fiction, especially following the model of a lot of the old pulp style productions. After all, there’s almost no cost at all to just hosting a website and posting podcasts, then publishing the final audiobooks and ebooks online.

Most recently I’ve been spending a lot of time editing and doing some rewriting for my NaNoWriMo novel, and I’m tweaking the structure of it to fit better with audiobook or serial publishing. At first it had the kind of fractal structure where the basic rise and fall of the action was mirrored all the way down from having four major plot points or scenes in a chapter, four chapters per act, four acts per book, and all the way up to having four books in this series eventually. Of course, since I wasn’t intending to serialize it at first, each chapter segment was a somewhat arbitrary and random length, ranging from 800 to nearly 2000 words. The longest chapter was about 6k words, the shortest about 4k. I’ve recut some scenes, rewritten some others, and eventually gotten a much steadier pace. 1200-1800 words per section. Judging from my experience with doing the Saving Christmas audiobook, these will make for a good 6-10 minutes of audio each.

I honestly don’t know if this will end up being an improvement or detriment to the story. It definitely changes the flow to a much steadier pace. And it’s forced me to flesh out some sections that were a bit more skeletal than they should have been, while trimming back or moving some other scenes that made another section too full. But I’m happy with what I’ve done so far, so hopefully that counts for something.

Unfortunately, if I only do a weekly post/podcast with the chapters in quarters, that means it will take 64 weeks to get the entire thing out. That’s more than a year of podcasting, just for one novel. Doing two or three chapters a week would leave each week with hanging chapter bits, unresolved plots, and generally wouldn’t fit the shape of the story well. So if I am going to podcast it, the only real option would be to do an entire chapter a week.

I’ve been tooling around with the idea of actually doing up to seven daily podcasts, one for each day of the week focusing on a different genre of pulp-style storytelling. However, since I go to school full time and work part time, I simply wouldn’t have the time to do them all myself. Which means that I would definitely want to find other writers and voice-over people to work with. Writers who enjoy working within the structure of serial fiction, making self-enclosed bits short enough to fit well into a short audiobook/audiodrama snippet, but make up a part of a larger whole. Voice-over people who enjoy either doing storytelling style narration or doing character voices for audiodrama.

At the moment, all I’d really have to do to get started is to find a few people to work with who share an interest in these things. People who don’t mind taking a risk on doing some work that may or may not actually earn any money. Pick a few possible days/genres to start. And go with it.

And there’s the rub right there. I’d love to actually get into a solid, serious bit of publishing online. Something that will connect readers/listeners with writers, and let them share what they make and enjoy. Serial fiction is growing on the internet. But so far, few people have been able to actually make any money with it. I want to help writers get paid. I think trying an approach like this, podcasting, then selling the final books/seasons/whatever you want to call them to the people who enjoyed them as they were broadcast. Not too dissimilar to how TV stations make extra money by selling season boxed sets of DVDs after the season finishes.

I know I’m going to get into publishing in some way, shape, or form eventually. Since I also do role playing game design, I will have to find some way to get my role playing sourcebooks published. So I am going to have some kind of publishing company, even if it’s just a company name with only me behind it, to publish. Why not get a jump on things by starting now with the fiction that I have ready to go, instead of waiting until I have finished and fully tested role playing games?

I don’t have particularly good spam filters for my site at the moment, so I haven’t been allowing any comments. So if you are a writer interested in bringing back a modern version of pulp serial fiction and/or voice over artist interested in narrating, acting, or hosting a show and you are interested, find me on twitter or facebook.

I haven’t gone into great detail about some of the ideas I have for my podcast and publishing here, just a general overview. I don’t want to put my entire business idea out there for someone better equipped than I to steal and beat me to the punch. But I have started putting out some feelers to other writers to see if people are interested, so I figured it would be best to at least lay a few cards on the table here on my personal website.