A solid collection of horror stories to ring in the Christmas season.
A winter slaughter mars a Kentucky swampland. A murder unfolds at Santa’s workshop. Methamphetamines benefit mankind. This anthology, with stories ranging from silly yet entertaining to grim and frightening, offers many manifestations of the figure in red. One is scaly and crude, some are vicious murderers, one is connected to an ancient deity, and some enjoy burning corpses. One even hitches rides on spaceships.
A few stories seem solely spurred on by their surprise ending; everything that builds up to that ending seems weak. Others suffer from an avalanche of details, while a few are as clear as the slush that accumulates on city streets in winter. Some authors appear to be inspired by Lifetime movies, and some try too hard to sound like a writer. Using onomatopoeia to describe the sounds of bells? Dinga-linga-dumb.
Fortunately, there are only a few coal lumps in the anthology. Overall, it makes a great stocking stuffer… provided the recipient likes horror. Most of the stories entertain and several achieve excellence. Editor Martin Munks places the stories in a sensible order, and unlike many horror anthologies, this one has few mistakes. Following are some of my favourites.
Jude Reid’s “(Everybody’s Waitin’ for) the Man with the Bag” has everything one would want in a horror story: plot twists, people getting their comeuppance, a decorative flair for blood and guts, and much more.
“All Alone on Christmas” by Chris Campeau stands out as a sanctification of loneliness. A divorced man staying in a chalet and missing his son encounters an ugly, frostbitten, pus-ridden, naked bearded figure (a possible personification of loneliness), but it’s hard to tell whether this somewhat familiar visitor has a malicious intent or would rather just chill. The story comments on the often conflicting values of work and family.
David F. Shultz’s “The Santas” is inventive, funny and, at times, sad. After a botched suicide attempt, a man gets a crass visitor with an unexpected gift. Shultz smatters the story with just enough detail to create an atmosphere. We discover that Santa Claus is just one of many Santas, each of which has a different appearance. The only thing I didn’t like about this story was facing the fact it had to end.
In “A Christmas Cake” by Kara Race-Moore, the narrator goes all out to bake a traditional Irish christmas cake for her tactless boyfriend, who abruptly breaks up with her and shatters her view of the relationship. He refers to her as “Christmas cake” – an old-fashioned Japanese term for a single woman over 25 – and accuses her of being desperate to get married and have babies. A meeting with a familiar elderly woman leads to a surprise ending that leaves a few loose threads.
Olin Wish’s “Have a Holly, Jolly Nuclear Winter”, one of the collection’s scariest stories, involves a husband and a wife doing something involving physics, drugs and mirrors. It has a voyeuristic tone, with the bulk of the activity involving them standing at a window. They attempt to avoid drawing attention to themselves as they witness a halcyon European scene transform into a ghastly activity.
“The Naughtiest” by John Lance is part Christmas cartoon and part cozy mystery. Santa’s elves investigate a murder and kidnapping at the workshop. We learn what’s in Mrs Claus’s kitchen and even get to explore the mines Santa used for coal before he closed them down because of health concerns. The protagonist is Bobkin, an elf with a strong focus on following the rules. It’s a cute story – there’s even a plunger detonator bomb. The story shows how if a child is continually punished and never rewarded, that behaviour may result in long-term problems.
In Shelly Lyons’s “Ho-Ho-Nooo!”, main character Tony Flores is a meth addict with a gig as a Santa at a Spencer’s Gifts store in the ’90s. Because of something that happened with a ship that crashed, he is determined to save his friend and fellow Santa Mike Cheebers, working at the Sears in the same mall. It’s humorous, it’s light, and it’s nostalgic. Douglas J. Ogurek ****
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