Working Title: The Fire Burns Low

“An unknown young man,” Ramsay Allan

Been working on this manuscript for some time now, and wanted to get some feedback from the writing universe. It’s a Christmas tale, set in mid-late-18th-century American colonies. And yes, like my breakout novella, it’s GLBT-related, a bit snarky, sexual and wild.

Thoughts welcome. Cover model contract being worked out as we speak. And remember, © 2017 Anchors To Dusk Publishing, LLC.

December 1, 1767
“Belephegor, your time is now. Dark prince, I’ve come through since the last time we’d met. The once-fine townspeople of Jamestowne are the offering to you. You’ll see.” Francis Toole was in the midst of a crazed prayer to the dark lord.

He turned around ever so carefully, and looked over his shoulder. I mustn’t be seen, he thought to himself. The makeshift sanctuary he and his brethren made in the forest was fragile; it was one that was sturdy enough to carry out the plan, but one wrong move, and it would’ve been destroyed completely.

In the distance, outside of the village, Toole heard the faint sound of children carolers. Yes, he used to enjoy this peaceful time of year, but once the plan was put in motion, there’d be no more happy holidays — for anybody.

The merriment rang on:

“Hark hear the bells, sweet Christmas bells.
All sound the same, dark days are here.
Bel-phe-gor, dear.”

Toole startled easily, and let out a huff. Was he hearing correctly? Nobody was supposed to know of the plan yet…the deep, massacred destruction of humanity.

“Those wretched and spoiled children must keep their holes shut, and stay out of this upcoming trouble. Bah!” Toole rang aloud. Alas, the haunting carol continued:

“…Evil, saddened, and dark Christmas. 
Bloody, bloody, bloody Christmas.
Bel-phe-gor, dear.
Smells all your fears.
Bet-ter watch out.
Dark days are here!”

Toole shivered in his boots just as a whistling wind put his miniature fire out.