So, So (So-So?)

So.
I didn't finish my NaNovel this year.  I'm still working on it, in between my day job and trying to learn Slovak, but I'm more than a little disappointed in myself.  I think I was padding my word count too much and it was leading to bad writing, which was leading to me not really feeling like putting the effort in.  Plus, suddenly working 9 hours a day after long periods of lazing around the house made me super tired.  Excuses, excuses.  Point is, I didn't finish.

And my real point is, rather than focusing on my unfinished story, to ask you how you found NaNo this year, if you finished, if you got anything out of it, if you'll be doing it next year, etc., etc.

Also, I'd like to take the opportunity to wish you a Merry Holiday of Your Choosing and a Happy New Year.

In keeping with last year's tradition, some random, creepy holiday art.

At Night

An albino Father Christmas stood on the end table and at night, it came to life. It jumped down, plastic censer swinging from a cardboard-present clutching hand, and moved around the lobby. It went on the computer and changed the reservations, it looked at Internet porn. It chased the mice.

In the morning, it went back, replaced its taffeta hat and waited for the guests. When they touched it, reaching for a dining guide or filling out a comment card, or because its beard looked so soft, it took a piece of their soul and at night, it ate it.


By the way, I wrote the soul-stealing bit before I read Rhiannon's story, which just proves that we're a) very alike and b) very crazy. I would have posted it earlier, but in keeping with the brand new DevCo tradition of posting terrifying holiday art, I wanted to find a picture to go with it.

Ecksmas Prompt: Man of Snow

This is proof positive that I'm bugnuts, by the way. Enjoy! And happy Solstice Rites Of Your Choosing!

~~~

When he woke, he was blind and cold and deaf and could not scream. He couldn’t move, either, but he could feel their hands.
Sensation returned first to his arms; his fingers felt cold and brittle.
Sight returned, then smell. The world was shades of grey, but he could see it and was thankful, even if it did smell of carrots.
They stuck a corncob pipe where his mouth was supposed to go, before they gave him the hat and scarf. It didn’t charm him; he was as cold as death.
They wanted holly-jolly laughter. Instead, he took their souls.

EDIT: I tried putting the damn picture at the end. It won't let me. I blame the shitty computer. And I'm totally adding this after the story's been up for a few moments. Hah! Also, there are waaaaay too many pics of creepy snowmen out there. They're coming for us.