This is a work of fiction intended for mature readers. The characters, events, and dark holiday elements depicted within are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real persons or events is entirely coincidental.

PROLOGUE

THE RELATIVELY NEAR PAST, OHIO.

SUNRISE ON A JULY MORNING

Sitting at a table in an apartment above a small bookstore on a nondescript suburban street was a woman in her mid-forties. She had just been through the darkest night of her life. And she had seen some dark ones. Annabelle was on her seventh cup of coffee. She had been awake for more than a day. Something had happened out east, in the fields of Pennsylvania. What exactly happened wasn't known. But it was bad. Chaos. Fires. Bodies. An interstate highway bridge...gone.

And then there was the Strangeness. SOMETHING had occurred, beyond the devastation. Something unnatural. You could see it in the faces of the news anchors, as they struggled to find words for the reports that could not be discounted. There were simply too many of them. And her kids had been there.

She knew that they had made it out. After several hours of silence, horrible news reports, and feeling as if her world was ending, there had been a brief phone call. They had gotten out. That was about all that could be gathered. There was this godawful interference, like an electrical storm. All she could do before the connection was lost was demand that each of them yell out to her, so she could know that they were all still alive. They did so. But they somehow sounded...different. She wouldn't rest until they were safely back in the apartment above her bookstore. She could collapse then.

Annabelle had a hard time praying to the religion she had been raised in. Her worldview had been shaken too much over the years. But she did ask for help. She had a patron saint of sorts, someone who, if not all-powerful, had always tried to help her. She mentally referred to her as "Mom" or "Old Lady" although there was no formal paper relationship. This person was gone, now, but certainly not forgotten. And if Annabelle believed in anything, it was that she could hear her, and was still trying her best to send aid.

She got up and went to the curio cabinet in the corner. Inside the cabinet, prominently displayed, of all things, was a large witch's hat. In front of it, in an ornate gold frame, is a large picture of an old woman, wearing the same hat. Inscribed on the frame:

FRIEDA MOM GRANDMA THE BELFANA

IN BELOVED MEMORY

Annabelle whispered: "Please, Old Lady. Save our children, please..." She was shaken from her reverie by the sound of a car horn. She raced out the back door, to see an old, battered blue and red car coming down the alleyway behind the shop, trailing black smoke. It broke to a halt. And four young people began squeezing out. Her kids were back. Thank God. But they weren't the same as when they had left.

She had always known that they were different. Only two of them were biologically related to her, and in once case, "biological" was something of a stretch. But she had raised them, and they were hers. Even as they were now. The first out was her older niece, her late sister's elder child, Amy. She was wearing elegant clothes that still somehow looked like they had been through a war. Juxtaposed against that was the large blue witch's hat that now adorned her head. A hat almost identical to the one in the curio cabinet. She wore opaque mirrored sunglasses, and carried what appeared to be a magic wand that was tracing symbols of light in the air. She bowed her head.

Following Amy was her boyfriend. He had always been a thin, tweedy little boy. It was hard to get a peep out of him. The most remarkable thing about him had been his spiky, fair, almost white hair. The girls called him "Snowflake", as he seemed as delicate as one. Amy had always been sweet on him, and he, her. The other two girls had tormented him unmercifully. He was not delicate now. There was instead a massive man, with muscles upon muscle. His hair was now sheer white, and tied in a ponytail. There was a visible layer of frigid air around him, even in the middle of summer. He was carrying a axe, held before him in a lowered, respectful manner. Almost as if in deference to a ruler. He too kept his head bowed.

Next was a girl who had always been the strangest of her strange brood, at least on the surface. She wasn't related, but she was still her niece - a person that had befriended them and had needed a home to grow up in. And Annabelle always made room. A tall, almost gaunt young woman. She looked like she should be dressed in all black, somehow, but she wore a cloak made of patches of paisley and deep purple. She had pirate boots and huge brown leather gloves on. And in her hands, in a lowered position, she was carrying a scythe. She kept her head lowered as well.

And lastly, perhaps the one kid that she worried about the most. Her youngest niece, Amy's sister. She was named Becky, although they all almost invariably called her BeGee. She had come to them in unusual circumstances. And she had troubles. But she had always rampaged through life with her own particular brand of chaos. She had never let herself be a victim. She had become something else, though. Her usual unruly mop of copper-colored hair was now purple. And appeared to be made of fiber pulsating with light. Her skin resembled boiled blue shaded leather. Her eyes were now pure red, with one tiny and one huge. She was still wearing her trademark red and green color scheme. But it was now on an elf's costume. BeGee did not lower her head. Instead, she made direct eye contact with Annabelle, with those horrifying eyes.

But Annabelle wasn't horrified. She was relieved. BeGee tilted her head in an exaggerated version of the expression she so often used to tell Annabelle of her latest misadventure. And her mouth formed into a smile. Only this smile was an elongated red triangle. It looked like an opening of a blast furnace at the mill where Annabelle's father had worked.

And then the words came out. They were in BeGee's voice, if that voice had came through vocal cords that had turned inhuman: "Err, hiya, Aunt A.! Boy, do we have a story to tell YOU!"

Annabelle shook her head, and tears of sheer relief began washing down her face. "I am SO ****ING GLAD to see you!!! Even if you're all grounded 'TILL THE END OF TIME!!!" For two of her kids, that threat actually carried some weight.

She went to embrace all four. If neighbors had been looking down into the alley, they would have seem a strange but heartwarming sight. After a long moment, she said: "Now let's get you idiots in and under cover."

"AND THEN, YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT THE HELL YOU'VE DONE TO YOURSELVES!!!"

The BelFana: A BeGee the Elf Adventure Index

The Belfana: A BeGee the Elf Adventure
Copyright © 2026 by Christopher M. Reed
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