Where Shall We Meet?

Prompt: See at the bottom of the text - otherwise for unknowing visitors - it will give it away...

The firm tapping on the heavy wooden door produced a scuffling noise from within, followed by unforgiving scraping as a stubborn wooden slot opened toward the top. A brilliant green eye peered out suspiciously.

The darkened alley was devoid of lifeforms. A light wind rustled an ancient newspaper into tumbling antics.

“I’m down here.”

E.B scratched an errant whisker as his eyes darted about keenly; conscious of the air of expectancy throbbing from within.

“You’re late”

“I’m here. Let me in, you know who I am.”

The eyeslot grated and complained as it shut. After a myriad of mechanical locks had been activated, the door opened a crack.

“Get in quickly, me ivys going mad.”

E.B squeezed through the tiny slot and shook the raindrops from his coat. He allowed his eyes to be come accustomed to the gloomy room. A sudden starburst of colour showered a phosphorescent sheet across the room.

“Hey T, glad to see you are still perky.”

In the dying glimmer of light a heartshaped face smiled shyly across at him.

“Business is pretty constant, can’t complain” The pearly whites hanging around her neck tinkled as she shuffled over on the couch and patted the cushion beside her. Forgetting herself for a moment, she gave him a wide mouthed grin, displaying her unofficial trademark gappy smile.

E.B involuntarily grimaced; never used to the peach skinned, blue eyed vision to also maintain a dental issue which he assumed in her line of business could be easily sorted out.

A slight wind chilled his face, catching and freezing the look. From the side of his mouth he rasped “That party trick was old 500 years ago. Change it back or come my time, you know what will happen.”

E.B rubbed his face as the wind licked it back into shape.

The assembled shady characters sniggered, releasing some of the tension within the room.

“Wheres the big man?”

“He’ll be here in his own good time.”

“We all know why we’ve been assembled; mid season and all. What to do with the punters – not taking notice of the warnings being put out?

The Green Man pulled an investigating tendril of icy from his face and grunted. “Yer. The old days just a mere mention of us and you’d have them all stepping in line.”

“The big man is losing his grip . We all are.” A cloud of coal dust surrounded the speaker as he repositioned his sack.

“Shhh – can’t say that – not about him.”

“Its true – people aren’t observing the old ways the traditions. We are being looked over for nintendos.” Piercing blue eyes stared out from a mass of white hair; the beard indistinguishable from the hair as he perched uncertainly on a giant sand timer.

A faint jingling stopped everyone from their discussion. A huge man stood in the doorway and shrugged off his coat; his trademark red suit crisp and perfectly tailored.

Ivy tendrils reached out and checked all the locks and security on the door behind him.

With a twinkle in his eye he patted the green mans shoulder. “Never need a key in my line of business. But I commend you on the combination lock this time. Very tricky.”

He lit a cob pipe and took a deep breath.

“Thank you for coming everyone. I hear you’ve already begun our agenda. Lets not tarry with the chit chat. We need to restrategize our position or we are all out of business. I have less than six months to gain in the popularity and belief poles; others here have less time.”


Prompt: It’s July 31st. What is Santa doing in downtown Chicago? (Or Sydney, or Manchester, etc…)