Page 6 of Mistletoe

Work never ended, and somehow, her parents made it worse. Her mother had decorated every conceivable surface on the farm with the parasitic plant, including the barn. The only green thing available this time of year, her mother had been heavy-handed with the decorating. Garlands. Wreaths. Clusters artfully arranged around candlesticks, making the candles impractical to use.

Now, it was literally coming out of the rafters.

She didn’t need her goats nibbling on the poison berries because her mother’s method of dealing with stress was crafting.

All would be well. All would be well.

Lies.

Nothing good ever happened at the winter solstice, and no amount of mistletoe hanging in doorways would bring her brother back.

When the family arrived at their assigned parcel of land, all the best parcels had long been taken. What remained was more suited for the tall grass native to this part of the world than growing crops.

Except for one parasitic plant from Earth that, for some inexplicable reason, thrived on the alien prairie.

“Just like Earth! This is home,” her mother cooed, despite Earth being nothing more than a memory two centuries in the past. Despite the abandoned farmstead being ramshackle and tumbledown, no other place would do. The mistletoe’s ties to the old-world holiday were too strong.

Emma pulled down the last of the leaves, shoving them into her apron pocket.

There. One problem temporarily averted.

Athumpfrom the hayloft interrupted her maudlin thoughts.

Emma grabbed the shotgun and focused on the sounds of the barn. The goats were in their pen, munching on hay and generally being restless. They were cooped up all day yesterday and today to protect them from being a monster’s snack, but tomorrow, she’d let them out to ramble in the fields.

Something rustled in the loft. Something big. Definitely not a cat.

Emma raised the shotgun, keeping her focus on the loft. “Come on down now, and I won’t hurt you.”

Much. The shotgun was loaded with rock salt, which would sting like the devil. Yes, the military took her bullets, too.

A figure rose from behind the hay bales. Hidden in the shadows, the person was big. Really big.

“Come where I can see ya,” she ordered.

The figure stepped forward, revealing himself.

Emma nearly dropped the shotgun in surprise.

Well, now two things were green in the dead of winter.

Chapter Two

Emma

West Lands

Mistletoe Farm

The Barn

The figure loomed above her,big and green and full of menace.

He jumped down, landing in a crouch before her. The ground shook, or maybe that was just her heart.

The thing frightening the hens turned out to be a massive green monster in the barn. Surprise barely registered. Of course there was a monster in the barn. What else could it be? It was always the winter solstice. The family had to be cursed.

First, there was the winter solstice ice storm that caused a tree—the only tree for miles—to fall on the roof. At least the tree provided enough lumber to patch the roof and replenish the firewood. Then, there was the winter solstice when her father was attacked by a beast. He survived but had extensive scarring on one side and a limp. He spun the event into an epic ballad of the struggle of humans versus the wild that, for reasons Emma could not fathom, was wildly popular. Royalties from the poem added a parlor to the house and finally put on a proper roof.

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