Could they be real? What about other fantasy beings? What about… Santa Claus?
Passions have always ruled my family.
Always. My father’s name is Pelznickel, but he has been called many things throughout the millennia. Saint Nicholas. Kris Kringle. Santa Claus.
Yes. That Santa Claus. The man who’s brought joy to the children of the world for thousands of years. People have thought him a child’s story, a myth.
I spared a glance over my shoulder to ensure the redhead was gone and I was alone. Satisfied, I rubbed my right index finger along the side of my nose. A feeling of pins and needles covered me, as if my entire body had lost circulation. In a way, it had. The warm sandy beach I’d been walking on blurred and swirled in my vision, quickly being replaced by my bedroom.
The first few times I’d ever teleported, I’d been convinced I’d stayed still and the world had moved around me. Now I knew better.
Frantic knocking greeted my arrival.
“What is it?” I called.
“Master Schonesgeschenk, your father is looking for you.”
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I strode to the door. The fat little
gnome waiting for me on the other side was dressed in thick green robes with white trim. His long white beard nearly reached his waist. “Astlin, how many
times must I ask you to call me Shawn? It’s just Shawn, I swear.”
including an erotic paranormal tentatively titled Obsidian Angel. He is in his mid-thirties, happily married, and has a bit of a wicked sense of humor.