All those pieces of me that I gave away along the road. Well the people I gave them to threw them away. Now what’s left isn’t worth much.

Some of you just don’t like Christmas. You’d rather it just *******. Anytime you hear Jingle Bells, you change the station and scoff.

Perhaps it has been ruined, by things that happened then. So while others are laughing and singing, you’re only thinking of when.

Was it a touchy old pastor? Did a reindeer **** on your shoe? Did your elf on a shelf touch himself while smiling and staring at you?

Maybe a coked out ****** in tights tried to bite off your tongue. Just as the snow was falling and those church bells had been rung.

How can you not like the lights? The smell of snow in the air? Is it because you’re spiritually dead and can’t muster the courage to care?

Maybe you had a bad mom, who wore ****** clamps in front of your friends. Who wore acid wash jeans everyday, no matter the fashion trends.

How can you not like the sounds? Of fires that crackle and snap? Of cookies and cider and cinnamon **** and all that Christmasy crap?

Well whatever your ***** *** reason for hating this season so. Please take your ****** egg nog, and go stand outside in the snow.

There are countless stories about love, triumph, and discovery. The story you’re about to read. Is about none of those things.

In a village not long ago, underneath a breath of snow. There lived a family of kinder sorts. Albeit slow, all good sports.

And every year the took a tree, from yonder woods, cut at the knee. They dragged it home, their latest ****. And propped it up against its will.

Then they’d sing and set it to light. Confused and scared this tree a fright. They’d sing a song and praise it’s glory. But this tree was to have a different story.

Along with more snow there came too a wind. A silence unknown began to descend. Across the valley, up and into the wood. What was to come would harbor no good.

It’s tracks were cloven like that of a goat. It leapt upon rooftops, mocking the moat. It’s hoof falls muffled by tops of white cotton. It took scent of the air, and found it quite rotten.

It made its way from cottage to cottage. It saw a man take a fruitcake to ****** frottage. It witnessed a woman snorting up snow. While another devoured her up from below.

Disgusted, our creature continued to search. It witnessed a friar defile a perch. It saw a young man go to bed with a priest. And four old lady’s that ******* about yeast.

Ole Mrs Goodhead was down on her knees. While men came and went offering cheese. Her husband the blind poor crippled fool. Thought he got lucky while a goat ate his tool.

Our creature repulsed, threw up on his tongue. And just about then the church bells were rung. In all the commotion he found his query. That one little tree, so tired and weary.

He kicked in the door surprising his host. Standing there naked, his **** between toast. Our creature scoffed and took hold of the tree. “You perverts and freaks, this goes with me!”

Their mother outback getting reamed, the children shouted, shrieked, and screamed. Creature cradling this tree under arm, ran into the wood away from the farm.

The townsfolk rallied, with axes and torches. Leaping from *** swings that sway on their porches. Naked and scared they marched toward the wood. Not a one of these folk knew what they should.

“You tree stealing goat you dare steal our hope. We brought along **** and a whole lot of rope.” They chanted and cursed threatening ****. You would’ve thought there’d be no escape.

Through the wind and the snow they soon saw a light. Clutching their axes and **** cheeks tight. They witnessed the creature replant the tree. Then it unzipped it trousers and started to ***.

The steam was rising from out of the snow. At the foot of this tree that then started to glow. It’s branches stretched and it grew a bit taller. Away from the *******, the drinking, and squalor.

The creature turned, addressing the court. It let out grunt, a huff, and a snort. “Who there among you dares to do this? To steal away this tree where I ****.

I spent my life ******* on trees. From rivers to mountains I **** where I please. Until one Christmas drunk off some cider. I collapsed and stumbled and woke up beside her.

I rewarded her presence by melting her snow, she paid me back with a warm growing glow. So every year I come here for *******. Getting just drunk enough to keep me from missing.”

The townsfolk still naked, some of them dead. Let out an “oh” and lowered their heads. “Please beast forgive us, we know not what we do. We’re ripe with chlamydia, and haven’t a clue.”

The creature still frothing and somehow still *******. Knew what it was the townsfolk were missing. He let go of his tool and reached his hands. Still naked and scared, they met his demands.

They started to sing they started out low, then their screeching started to grow. It cut through the valley like a wet **** in bed. Scaring the children, the wolves, and the dead.

Many years later, that tree grew in height. On Christmas Eve, they bathe in it’s light. They gathered around it ******* and singing. Throughout the valley the bells would be ringing.

Then one Christmas they’d gathered to see just how tall was their ******* tree. A storm rolled in, filled them with dread. Then it fell over and now they’re all dead.

I could have stayed silent my whole life,
And the outcome would’ve been the same.

I’d been told
That there was gold
To be found in them there hills
Bright blue skies and Apple pies
Cooling on window sills
Then I got older
The days got colder
And the hills just got farther away
Tired bones hearts of stone
This life just isn’t my day
So riddle me this
Spare me your kiss
Just tell me what I’m doing here
I’m alone on this hill. Standing, still
And my view just isn’t as clear

Upon a place no man has stepped.
A lonely girl knelt and wept.
Her family lost, her hope as well.
She’d brought along a little bell.
She started to dig where her tears had fallen.
For she could hear her best friend callin.

Faintly was the scent of death.
From out of the dirt, she smelled her breath.
She presented the bell before the hole.
And shook it thrice to hear its toll.
Sulfuric smoke seeped from the ground.
The forest stopped and made no sound.

“Right the wrongs done to I, so that I may cease to cry.
Free them from their mortal coil, so that in hell they’ll burn and toil.”
A scream like that of a banshee ripped.
From out of the hole a fire slipped.
A winged demon emerged in sight.
Dripping hate and firelight.

From out of the burning debris and embers.
At the feet of ancient timbers.
A winged version of this lil girl.
Stretched out her wings a did a twirl.
She looked upon the moon with ire.
Swearing to one day set it afire.

“Emily, where are you dear?
Please approach and hold me near.”
Emily then, bid her welcome
“Why dear sister are your visits seldom?
Emily I’ve missed you so.
I was sad to see you go.”

“I’m so sorry Laura. Please.
I stopped along the way for these.”
Emily held out daffodils.
That she had brought down from the hills.
Laura smiled and cocked her head.
“Much like I, they’re also dead.”

Many things had lived and died.
Since they were by each other’s side.
Emily watched as her sister drowned.
She made no effort or even sound.
Laura’s death was for good reason.
Her mood was death for every season.

Emily had seen her sister ****.
Standing by and standing still.
Then there came that night now haunted.
When Emily would not be daunted.
Laura had taken Emily’s cat.
And gone outside with a bat.

Emily then chased her still.
Towards the well upon a hill.
Emily returned that night.
Laura lost, no where in sight.
She’d watched her sister drown.
She made no move, she made no sound.

The two embraced and cried in quiet.
They both did wrong and both stood by it.
"Emily your heart feels cold against my skin,
it was not like that way back when."
"It's been so dark since mother died,
father hasn't mourned or cried."

"Our mother died? Say since when.
Tell me Emily, begin again."
"Not long after I took your life,
our home became a place for strife.
The crops fell sick as did our cows,
as well as the chickens and the sows.

Our mother she neglected me,
she hung herself on our oak tree.
Then fathers friends they came right after,
they strung me up from the rafters.
One by one they had their way,
our father watched and took his pay."

Laura pulled away in awe,
uttering only "not our pa".
Emily sobbed and lowered her head.
"Our home is but a place of dread."
Laura slowly unfurled her wings.
"I will not stand for such awful things."

Her claws of black volcanic glass,
her cat like eyes let nothing pass.
Her shredded skin and fibers showing,
her thirsty fangs and eyes a glowing.
"Tell me Emily where is our father?
I'll let him be the first I bother."

"On the floor back at our stead,
with any luck already dead.
His friends are also probably there,
waiting there for me I dare.
Oh Laura dear I am afraid.
Please do not get hurt or scathed."

Emily put her knees to dirt.
"I only wish I couldn't hurt."
Laura took her sisters hand.
"Emily dear, leave this land.
Where your from you must never say.
Because for sure you'll die that day.

This is a curse I must bestow.
Because for every death there is a toll."
The sisters said goodbye once more.
Things won't be as they were before.
Laura flapped her wings to flight.
Emily walked into the night.

Laura perched upon the barn and saw.
Her fathers friends but not her Pa.
She changed her scent to that whiskey.
Then she willed away a man named Liskey.
In the barn up to the loft.
The hay was old, damp, and soft.

She waited for the drunkard there.
Her eyes aglow her body bare.
Liskey forced the girl against the joist.
Laura hung his body from the hoist.
While his friends below were sharing whiskey
Hanging high was Mr Liskey

Next there was a young man named Sam.
She made him cry like a wounded lamb.
This brought the others to the field.
She slayed them all she would not yield.
She tore their flesh and drank their blood.
She scattered their limbs into the mud.

The sun was set and about to rise.
To light upon such distant skies.
Laura made her way towards the ranch.
Stopping once to break a branch.
From off a tree her grandpa planted.
For there would be no mercy granted.

She found her Pa there in the kitchen
She raised her branch and started switchin'.
Her father awoke and screamed in wrath.
He tried to run and clear a path.
But Laura dear just kept on hitting.
He started cursing, fighting, spitting.

Her father suffered so many blows.
Just how many, no one knows.
He screamed until there was notheing left.
Not of the branch or his breath.
Laura knelt down by his side.
Unto the sun she would not abide.

Upon his cheek she pressed her lips
and traced his face with fingertips.
She took him by the legs outside,
then took him by his bleeding hide.
She lifted him with wings aloft,
he cried aloud while she just scoffed.

She stopped above her earthly tomb,
that cursed well, that demons womb.
"Father dear it's here you'll sleep,
here unto your death you'll keep."
She let him go and watched him fall,
his body slapping off the walls.

So now you know the story see.
Of our dear friend Emily.
Of what she did to be right here.
Her sins forgiven conscious clear.
I'm sure by now you surely see.
We better be nice to Emily.