2 Chapters left to publish! Our chain story is coming to an end. Read about how it started here.
Please welcome our 8th author, Sarah Broadley (aka @sarahpbroadley), a slightly mad Scottish woman who is fiercely loyal and almost always silly. In her words: "I'm a writer who is crazy about her family and all things chocolate. I like listening to the rain at night and watching the world through my wee boys eyes. I currently write rhyming stories for children and have dabbled in the world of crime too, not to mention flesh eating zombies and bad Santas! I hate slush piles and really hope I am not in any. I'm a sucker for cuddles and anything remotely fluffy and I can't take penicillin as I turn blue and stop breathing...just so you know!"
BLOODY SANTA vs ZOMBIE SIREN. Chapter 8 by Sarah Broadley
Laira took a step back and watched her ladies at work. Apparently she had a 'present' awaiting her in her chamber so she meandered slowly to the tower after her appreciation of the carnage had waned in her mind.
Santa was long gone now and the rest of his obedient dwarfs would soon be snared through the power of enchanting Yuletide song. Direct access for all of her ladies to unimaginable elf treasures of the flesh would soon be theirs.
Her stomach lurched in appreciation as it craved more sustenance.
She reached her lair within a few minutes.
She entered the dark void and walked calmly to its centre. With her remaining hand on her left hip and her right foot, so putrid and decayed - to a human the stench would have been atrocious, she firmly placed all her weight on the heaving chest of her latest catch.
"Now. Where was I?" She said out loud to no one in particular.
She bent over the small trembling body beneath her foot and let the slavers from her mouth gather in a pointed globule directly above her prey's eyes. She smirked and watched as the horror began to unfold in its pathetic eyes.
Why did he keep struggling? He was older than the others that had crossed her path today, presents from her ever dutiful girls.
There was something different about this elf, though, she couldn't put her finger on it. She was vaguely impressed that he was still trying to get away from her as she flaunted her decaying body in his line of vision and danced for him.
Mocking her prized elf, she sang to him one last time and watched with glee as he slowly relaxed and angled his body to meet hers, tears streaming down his once petrified face. She knew the euphoric sound of her voice was in his head and as she watched the saltwater flow down what was left of his face, she instigated the final encore.
The haunting music filled the small cave for a while longer. Once she stopped singing, it wasn't long before his mind came back to him with a judder and he was reminded of his present predicament. She welcomed his child-like scream with open arms as he shrieked violently and his mangled body succumbed to the inevitable blackness that was about to envelope him like the night sky.
The smell of urine that had escaped from her guest was threatening her desire to complete her 'meal'. She couldn't wait to devour the rest of the bright red flesh that sat so tantalisingly angelic around his dwarf-sized bones. The elf passed out for one last time.
Charming, Laira thought to herself, the undead get no respect.
The elf's limp body was of no use to her now, she secretly preferred it when they fought back. That prick Santa should have had this one all to himself if he hadn't succumbed earlier. He could maybe have used him for one of those abhorrent reindeer games he insisted on playing with his out-of favour workers. She knew that the 'Red Goblin' had finally been brought to his knees. Now it was time for his fucking elves to feel the wrath.
The sharp sound of metal clanging on the floor halted the thoughts flying through her head. Among the carnage of bodily fluids beneath her feet she saw a small golden circle linked to a chain. Picking up the necklace, she swept her broken fingers across the initials that appeared before her: 'S.L.H' engraved on one side and Edwin - 1 on the other side.
Quickly she deciphered what the letters meant: Santa's Little Helper. Not any more. you're not, Edwin – 1, she thought to herself.
A disturbing thought crossed her mind – why had Santa not cloned this elf? Her thoughts were interrupted as she heard a groan coming from the mutilated elf at the far side of the room.