Happy Holidays! :D

Hello, glorious fanbase. By which I mean Freegal, if he/she/it isn't too busy. If by some miraculous turn of events you are someone who isn't called Freegal then you probably have no idea what's going on.

So last year I posted a Christmas tale that went down pretty well amongst my 3 or 4 readers. You can read it here if you want. In fact you probably should because I'm going to write a follow-up just in time for the end of the year. So go read. Do it. Did you do it? No? Why not? This is a free service right here. There aren't even any annoying ads on my page. I feed off views. They are my only source of nourishment. Do you want to starve me? That's so sick and twisted. Screw you. If you did go read it then disregard everything I just wrote. I love you. Anyway, try not to be too pissed off as I begin my story with one of the most hated cliches in any form of media...



  Mickey awoke suddenly, sweat erupting from his brow. Without hesitation he rushed from his room to where his parents laid. They were sleeping peacefully together, their arms wrapped tightly around one another. Mickey smiled for a moment and then pounced onto their bed, like a baby panther seeking its mother's attention.
    "Woah-ho, hey sport!" his father embraced him and let him squeeze into the bed between the couple. "What's got you in such a good mood? Christmas was nearly a week ago!"
The three of them chuckled merrily and settled down together. Mickey took in his parents' warmth with glee. They lay there for a while before Mickey's father pulled the cover off them and announced that it was time for breakfast.
    "Come on, family! We're losing daylight!" they all skipped down the hall and down the stairs and into the dining room.
    "Who wants pancakes?" Mickey's mother said as she slipped on her oven-mitts and put on her best smile.
    "Pancakes? Ooh, I don't know.." Mickey's father said, feigning uncertainty before exploding into laughter along with the rest of the family. "Say, where's our other boy gotten off to?"
Just then there was a loud slam and Dick emerged from the hallway.
    "'Sup, dudes." Dick crammed himself into one of the dining room chairs, it creaked under the sheer mass of his bulging muscles. The family shared concerned glances for a moment and then Mickey's mother placed a warm batch of fluffy pancakes upon the table.
    "Mmmmm, that smells delishful!" Mickey's father announced, playfully using a portmanteau as he regularly did. The whole family dug straight in. Mickey added a few drops of lemon and a sprinkle of sugar, his father poured a dash of syrup on his own, his mother opted out of confections, and Dick whacked a dollop of chocolate spread on top of his pancakes and shoveled them messily into his mouth. His mother gave him a look to which he responded with something about working it off in the gym, although it was hard to distinguish beneath the sound of nutella squirting from his lips.
     "Alright guys, who's ready for our New Year's Eve hike?" Mickey's father asked with such enthusiasm that he literally threw his arms up in the air. Mickey and his mother both matched his enthusiasm by raising their arms and proclaiming their excitement. Dick on the other hand let out a belch and slumped off. Mickey's mother sighed and began clearing the table.
      "Now now, Dorothy. Remember he just got back from Afghanistan. Our brave little soldier."
      "I know, he's a good kid." Mickey's mother's smile returned and she finished loading the dishwasher. "Now, how about that hike?"

   12 hours into the hike, spirits were still high. The family had been trekking through the mountain range that was practically on their doorstep, trying to reach the top of the tallest mountain in the range for the best view of all the fireworks that would be set off, come midnight.
    "Phew, how about that view, eh?" Mickey's father said from atop a boulder. "There really is no place I'd rather be right now. It's a shame Dick opted out of this." he wasn't wrong, the view was magnificent. Despite it being late at night the whole valley was visible under the light of the moon and the stars. The village below was lit up brightly by all those spreading festivity.
    "I hear the fireworks are going to be especially impressive this year, Roger!" Mickey's mother reported.
    "That is fantastic news, Dorothy!" Mickey's father patted Mickey on the back "Hear that, sport?" Mickey smiled and looked across the valley. Then he heard the snap of a twig behind him and spun around swiftly. He peered intently into the trees that lined the clearing they were standing in. He couldn't see anything but after a few moments a muffled voice came to his attention. Mickey couldn't quite pick out what the voice was saying but he detected a hint of melody and deduced that the voice was singing. Eventually he realised it was singing Auld Lang Syne, very slowly and with such a raspy tone that it was almost inaudible.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and neeeever brought to miiiiiiiiind? The voice appeared to come closer and closer, and as it did it got louder and louder, until it was right in front of Mickey, screaming into his face, causing him to clench his eyes shut. It was so loud that he stumbled backwards and nearly tripped. Mickey let out a scream as he felt a sturdy hand clasp his shoulder and shake him, just as the singing stopped.
    "Mickey? What's wrong?" it was only his father. "Are you still having those awful visions?" Mickey nodded his head and looked down at his feet, as if he was ashamed.
     "It's been over a year since this started, Mickey. When is it going to stop?" his mother said with such exasperation in her voice that it saddened him. His mind went back to Christmas, the previous year. He remembered it all so clearly, as if it had actually happened. The ghastly figures that had appeared from the trees. His mother hung from her neck. His father sprawled across a bed with his insides hanging out. His brother lying in a pool of his own blood and vomit. It caused him to let out a soft cry. His parents knelt down and embraced him.
     "Come on, Mickey. None of it is real. Let's just enjoy tonight, huh? It's less than an hour until the new year! Isn't that exciting?" Mickey nodded, picked himself up onto his feet and skipped down the track, calling to his parents to keep up. Mickey's parents exchanged a look of happiness, kissed each other and then jogged after Mickey.

   They reached the top with just 15 minutes to spare. Mickey punched the air and let out a cheer, his parents laughed affectionately.
    "Alright, gang! Settle down and park your behinds on this rock!" Mickey's father took out 3 cups and a flask of hot cocoa. He began pouring the cocoa into the first cup as Mickey and his mother sat down together.
    "So, do you have any resolutions for the new year?" Mickey's mother asked.
    "I'm going to get on better with Dick." Mickey said. His mother smiled broadly and stroked his hair.
    "That's very mature of you, son." She said before noticing that the cup Mickey's father was pouring cocoa into was overflowing. "Honey, I think there's enough in that cup already." As she said this he collapsed forward, splashing hot cocoa into her face. She screamed in pain and fell on top of Mickey. Mickey struggled underneath her before he made eye contact with his father. His eyes were open but there was no light in them. No life in them. Mickey glanced upwards and was horrified to see a machete lodged in his father's back. He quickly got up and pulled on his mother's arm.
    "We have to go, mummy!" he wailed and tugged as hard as he could. He looked at her face and saw that her eyes were in terrible condition - crimson red and puffy. His mind flashed back to his vision of the faceless creature with no eyes that had haunted him last Christmas. He shook the thought from his mind and, realising he was too small to carry his mother, ran for the trees. Crying as he did. He looked over his shoulder briefly to see a tall, dark figure looming over his mother. This caused him to stop. The figure was hooded and laden in camouflage clothing. It drew the machete from his father's back and held it against his mother's neck. From this distance it was hard to make out but Mickey swore he could hear a faint chuckle as the figure slowly pulled Mickey's mother's head backwards.
    "No!" Mickey cried, causing the figure to turn its head sharply towards him. It raised its arm slowly and twisted its hand into a fist, extended a finger and pointed it at Mickey. Then it raised the pointed finger to its mouth, which was the only feature visible inside the hood, and let out a shhhh sound. It turned back to Mickey's mother and pulled the machete back sharply across her throat. She let out a gasp, her puffy eyes wide in shock before he repeated the action, completely removing her head. The figure held the bloodied head up in the direction of Mickey and let out a tremendous war cry. Mickey darted into the trees, panting heavily between his bursts of sobbing. The forest seemed to extend indefinitely, sapping the energy from Mickey quickly. He tripped over a branch and fell into a crumpled heap beneath a large oak tree. He shuffled along and propped himself against the tree, catching his breath. To his dismay the figure appeared after only a few moments of rest. It held the machete firmly in its hand, blood dripping in a rhythmic fashion from the tip. It paced forward gradually, swinging the machete playfully in its hand. Then, almost comically, tripped over the very same branch Mickey had and landed clumsily on top of its own machete. It let out a guttural moan and squirmed about for a short time before flopping lifelessly to a halt. Mickey stretched forward hesitantly and lifted the hood of the figure. He came face to face with his brother, Dick.
    "Dick!" Mickey stated the obvious. He was in absolute shock from the terribly unfortunate events that had unfolded in the last 10 or so minutes but he felt somewhat relieved that the threat had been neutralised. Evidently Dick just hadn't been the same after Afghanistan. Only a little piece of Dick had come back home.

  Mickey sat down on the rock with his dead parents propped up beside him. He gazed upward at the stars, taking in their beauty. Then there was a loud bang that jolted Mickey forward. To his relief it was just the firework show starting up in the village below. The new year had begun. Mickey smiled as he remembered his resolution.
    "I'll see you soon, Dick." He lay down with his parents, looking up at the stupendous lights and sounds caused by the firework show. Then he closed his eyes and sighed, before he felt cold breath upon his neck and a voice whispered in his ear... For auld lang syne, my dear. For auld lang syne.


Well damn, that went on longer than I expected. Didn't work out quite as well as the last one either but hey, sequels rarely do. Anyway, I hope everyone has a happy new year's eve and a great 2014. And as always, 'don't make a scene'. ffs.