Elf on the Shelf....

It was Christmas Eve, and like every year, I woke up with that sense that magic was in the air...but there was something else. Something sinister hung over me that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Like I was being watched.

Throughout the entire morning I felt that feeling of creeping dread. Going about my morning routine I noticed what had been eluding me.

He called himself an elf but his eyes told a different story. I saw sorrow in those eyes. Sorry and an eternity of pain. When I approached the question of his origin he quickly changed the subject. "A storm is coming," he told me in a bright high pitched voice. The smile though...the smile never faded, and a sliver of doubt grew in my heart.
"You must train!" he told me, and train I would. With that never fading twinkle in his eye he led me to a room I had never seen before in my own house, a room with some futuristic equipment meant to strengthen the human body beyond our own means. Train I must, so train I shall.

I could feel the energy draining from my body. What was this horrible contraption? The strength was being zapped from me, not stored within. When I questioned it, the Elf only smiled his bland smile and told me to ride on. We would feast after, and that would regain my senses.

It was at the table I realized this wasn't the helpful friendly Elf he had claimed to be. No dinner awaited me and the tiny figure sat across the table with his locked in smile and wide blue eyes. Fear struck me then and I demanded for him to tell me what it was he really wanted from me. Why had he come here?
"Every year I must collect a soul." was the Elf's cheery reply. Sweat broke out on my face and it could have been my imagination but his smile seemed to grow wider.
"Let me get you another soul," I told him. We can sit and discuss this like civilized individuals. He only nodded, but he joined me in the kitchen.

Negotiations broke down before they even began. The foul creature had pocketed a steak knife in his, his; well he had been hiding it somewhere and his dead eyes smiled up at me when he produced it.
"We don't have to do this." I pleaded. "Look at yourself, I could swat you as if you were an inanimate plush toy."
But the decision had already been made, and he was on me in the blink of an eye, his speed was unfathomable.









I was on the ground screaming before I could even react.
The first cut was light and quick but the others...the bastard was gaining momentum.
"Your soul!" He demanded in his high pitched voice as if it was an option for me to just turn it over. The blood was wet and warm on my face and after grappling I finally got a hold of his tiny body. I did the only thing, I could think of. I fought.















The first instinct was to push. I out weighted the little sucker by at least 250 pounds. So with all my strength, I swung forward and launched the little demon. But it wasn't enough. His speed was his weapon and before I could take a breath he had me back on the ground begging for air.

The air seemed to escape me, as if there wasn't enough to go around. Then I realized that he had his tiny soft hands around my neck and the pressure there was soft but life threatening. Struggling for consciousness my vision blurred, would this been the end? A tiny soul collector was going to meet his quota with me? One final breath.

It was gingerbread. Of Course! I had put in gingerbread cookies before my training. Summoning every ounce of strength that remained, 

I carried out my last attack.

We were both screaming as he went in head first. The creature figured it had already won. As he burned his tiny cute voice changed to a dark deeper one, and he revealed to me that he was indeed a minion of hell. In his final breath he assured me that his brothers would come for me. And that he would be the one to taste my soul in the end.

So I did what any man would do. I enjoyed some gingerbread and prepared for battle.

It didn't take long. They came for me the following morning, when I went to bury the Elf. Christmas Day.

Groovy.