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Monday, December 24, 2012

A Christmas flight

“Damn!!” Alphonse swore under his breath.
One hundred meters ahead the Gnomes crested the rise Alphie was scouting. Alphonse “Alphie” Acornshield quickly scrambled to his waiting fox. Alphie had the dubious luxury of being a scout in the specialist core assigned to the third battalion, seventh division, of His Most Illustrious Elfin Army. Normally that luxury was far from dubious…Being a “specialist,” as they liked to call themselves meant good food, fine drink, and feems, the finest feems in all of farie.
As his fox sped through the dense foliage Alphie thought back to the previous evening’s staff meeting….

Laughter rang throughout the tent as Alphie entered.
“Those pitiful gnomes will never learn will they?” Shouted a drunken red faced elf…his pointed ears even redder then his face, and the buttons of his uniform straining against his prodigious girth…”We will trounce them handily!” The ultimate commander of the Unified Elfin Army’s deep and commanding voice was at odds with his comic appearance.
“At most they will send a few battalions of those summer scum from the west! Every year it is the same thing on the front…we form up the day before Christmas, they throw a few thousand Scummer gnomes at us, we stomp a muddhole in um, and then we party Christmas day…this year will be no different!” the officer in charge of the specialists stated scornfully. His appearance couldn’t have been more at odds with the Ultimate Commander’s if they had tried. Tall and trim he cut a fine image for a young officer. His pristine uniform well fitted and crisp, all his medals lined up smartly. Where the Ultimate commander’s face was bright red and bulbous the Specialist officer’s was angular and tan. Colonel Oakenbrand was a fine officer.
“Scout Acornshield, come here lad,” colonel Oakenbrand snapped sharply, “go to the northwest end of the front and sit for the day; you have earned a rest…don’t want to let the feems down tomorrow…and we can say we covered all our bases”

Those words echoed in his memory as the sound from the present shook him to his bones.

“Thrum, Thrum,Thrum
We march to the beat
Of our drums
We’ll take their meat
And then we’ll eat
From their
Kidneys and livers
And Lungs…”

The chant thundered across the valley as tens of thousands of Winter Gnomes crested the northern rise, effectively flanking the elfish Army. Alphie flailed his fox for more speed, with very little hope of being able to prevent the massacre about to be visited upon his fellows.

“And their kidneys
And livers
And lungs!”

Merry Christmas friends and family! This Short fiction piece was written in response to a prompt By Ben Ditty over at Nice Old Spice  , although Ben was nicer to his characters then I :-)

Chris McQueeney    12/24/12    2:22 P.M.


Ben Ditty said...

Haha brilliant. No one bests the winter gnomes.

christopher said...

Oh well...

Elves can be full of themselves.

Brian Miller said...

wow dude....that is quite the story...i grew up on fantasy though, so i rather love it....merry christmas man....

kj said...

What a ghoulish good story! Just goes to show the price of overconfidence. Too, I am very disappointed with the gnomes eating habits--yuck!

I hope your Holidays were good ones, Chris. How did the kids do?

We're on to a new year: fingers crossed


Brian Miller said...

smiles...i got your fire up this evening...and my verse is def not on banning guns (check the opening lines) but i agree the checks and balances are failing when the guy i mention can get his hands on an assault rifle boggles my mind actually...i know him well enough to know it is a scary premise...