Charlie the Great White Horse and the Journey to Egypt by Kenneth Mullinix
Santa's Village was a happy and enchanted place once more.
The three Missouri Rats; Black Jack Tilly, Cool Joe Biggs, and Rags Martin along with Squint-Eye Pete's boys: Big Belly Bill, and Sleaze Ball Tom had not so long ago, been shipped back to the Saint Louis jail, to once more be incarcerated by Warden Sergeant Pettigrew for the tenth time. Each member of that crew of misfits, and criminals now had their names etched in stone above their jail cells with a real place of their own, to call home.
The Great Wrapping-Machine inside of The Great Hall was up and running once again. It had suffered only minor damage during that epic battle to save Christmas last year. All of the: friendly elf's, plump dwarfs, strong workingmen, mule-deer, and reindeer had since returned to the work they loved making presents for all of the children of the world. Louis and his friends had saved Christmas, just in time, and Santa's Village was once more a peaceful and serene place.
Alfeo the Lead Foreman of the Worker-Elf's was back at his old post overseeing the workings of the great machine. Elgar the 1st Class Lead Machinist elf had since returned to his job as well, as had the other Elf's in Santa Village. Elvina, (Algar's wife) was back baking cherry, and apple tarts, and brewing her special sweet teas. Of course, Santa Claus returned as well, helping out Charlie the Great White Horse in the daily running's of the village, The Great Wrapping-Machine, and the making of all the Christmas toys for the children of the world.
Nevertheless, the forces that drive evil are alive on the earth and still dwell...in weaker men's hearts.
Evil...knows no fear.
Evil...never sleeps.
Squint-Eye Pete had made his way down the dark mountainside though Snow Valley, and into the silent shadows of Santa's Village. After lurking and crawling about the village, he finally made his way to the main-square, then forwards to the entrance of the Great Hall.
It was well into the middle of the night, the village was found to be mostly quiet, this evening. Not wanting to cause a seen or draw attention to himself, Squint ever so gently poked his thin, bony head in through the open doors of the Great Hall all the while being careful, to hide his unsightly face.
Not a soul in sight.
Pete searched about the vast room, with the stealth of the Invisible Man. Slowly slinking about the room, a quick change of direction here and there, then off towards the rear offices.
Laid out on a few long tables were the work schedules of the workingmen, elf's time cards, remnants of a half-eaten sweet-tart empty coffee cups, and a medium-sized superbly smithed, mystical looking, silver key. Not knowing what the key was for but noticing that the key was crafted with great care, Pete advanced to stuff the key into his dirty black pants, front pocket.
Now looking about the room with no good intentions in his heart, he noticed an old newspaper strewn about the floor, at the rear of the room. He turned up the flame on the small gas lamp hanging overhead and pressed on, to scan over the pages.
The Snow Valley News was written in large black letters across the top of the page and down below that, the headlines read:
The Three "Missouri Rats" Captured By: "Louis the White".
The Saint Louis Jail Receives Three New Inmates.
Pete's long cold, probing fingers clinched the paper in his fists, with anger raging in his heart. His lone good eye (which was glowing in the faint light of the gas lamp) glared menacingly about the small, darkened back room. Pete lowered his head, with his large black wide-brimmed hat tilting downwards again towards the table, his evil eye which was partly covered by a tattered leather patch...was searching for answers.
Pete paused?deep in thought?searching for a resolve.
"Do I have to do everything myself? I give those two idiot boys of mine, and those other three stupid morons; one simple job to do, and they screw it up. Big Sal is goin to kill em, if I don't get to em first. I'm-a gonna read this here newspaper from front to back, and find out what is going on up here, but first I need to get out of this hall, and away from the upsetting smell of these awful, elves and dwarfs".
With this last thought in mind, Pete quickly departed though the back door of the office, and into the darkened alleyway. Slipping back into the shadows from which he belongs. As he passed though another back ally he noticed a just baked apple pie, cooling on an elf's lone rear, windowsill.
Without a second thought...the pie was gone...and so was Pete.
Covering himself with his large black trench coat, pulling his wide-brimmed hat down over his face one more time, and pulling up his coat collar up against, the cold arctic wind, he headed for a faint glowing gaslight at the farthest end of town, towards solitude and privacy. Upon sitting down on a small table perched under the light and devouring the apple pie, Pete began to read all about the recent goings-on, in Santa's Village.
There it was in bold print: the rescue of Santa's Village by Louis, Molly, and his friends, and the shipment of his Missouri Rats back to the Saint Louis jail. The flight of Louis, Charlie Junior, and Charlie on Christmas Eve this year; with them delivering most of the right presents, to the good kids of the world.
"I hate that freckle faced little kid, and that stupid horse"?thought Pete, time and again to himself, as he devoured the last of the fresh baked apple pie.
"I need a new plan. Nobody outwits Squint-Eye Pete, nobody!"
Pete's lone good eye and his fists could be seen scrunching up in anger, once again.
After a few moments of deep thought, Pete slowly tilted his head towards the starless, black night above. He gently removed the well-worn leather eye-patch covering his evil eye. In a low chilling voice, he called out into his own black, heartless world.
"Those Magic Jingle Bells will belong to me, and no one is going to stop me this time."
"No one is gonna stop me, I tells ya?not anyone...no how."
Pete kicked the empty pie tin into the air, and then ripped the newspaper into shreds with a wild flurry. Thrusting his hands into the lower front pockets of his black duster, he was off again, with his mind racing faster than his legs could carry him, back into the heart of Santa's Village.
After skulking and searching about the empty alleyways, and streets, for the better part of an hour he eventually stumbled upon what he was now looking for...Santa's house.
The modest, one story thatched covered hut, appeared to be quiet as a Sunday morning, with only a faint light coming from the smoldering brick fireplace, found in the living room. There was a small hallway leading to a few back bedrooms, and a small round living room at the center of the home that were full of over-stuffed furniture, low-lying tables, and a few sturdy wooden chairs.
Pete, after lurking under the window for a few moments decided that the coast was clear. He headed for the interior of the home, by way of the unlocked living room window. Having experience at this time of crime before, Pete had no problem negotiating his way through the dimly lit home. Quietly and quickly, he slunk about the home searching for an ill-gotten bounty.
He made his way down the wide, long hallway to a back room, where a door was slightly ajar. Upon peering inside, he found Santa Claus and Ms. Claus, in a deep slumber for the evening.
With a sneer swiftly appearing on his face he abruptly continued onwards, towards the last room found at the end of the hallway, en route to the very back of the home. After quietly opening the door at the base with his dirty black boot, he finally found what he was looking for...Santa's office.
There were countless amounts of papers loosely strewn about the oval shaped, mid-sized room, across his large wooden desk, and across the thick wooden floor. There were numerous bookcases found perched against the dark walls, full of leather-bound books. A large portrait was found on another wall that was hand-painted, which bore a full length picture of, Ms. Claus as well as Santa standing with all the elf's, in front of the Great Wrapping-Ma
chine, from a Christmastime long since passed.
Again, Squint-Eye snickered and sneered in disgust.
A low grumbling sound was heard coming from his throat.
After quietly searching about the room for the better part of ten minutes, again Pet, could not find what he was looking for...Santa's Secrets.
All great and famous men had secrets, and treasures. Pete knew this, as well as the next professional thief.
Where were the real valuables, the magic potions, old scriptures, famous writings, and the one of a kind, ancient scrolls? Santa Claus was almost three hundred years old. He had to have a secret chess, or safe stashed somewhere in this house.
It must be in his bedroom if not in his office, thought Pete.
Pete took a small wax-candle out of its holder off the wall. He lit it with the striking of a match. Upon cupping the candle ever so gently in his hand being sure not to let too much light off, he progressed out of the office, back towards Santa's bedroom. With another small thrust of his boot, Santa's bedroom door opened fully. Squint-Eye Pete entered the last place of earth that he should be: into the sanctum, and stillness of the purest and kindest man of earth.
Santa rolled over. He pulled the covers up over his face as a slight, unnatural breeze followed Pete into the room. A slight snort of air there, a scratch on the face here, was all Pete noticed, or heard from the sleeping couple. Pete moved forward into the dimly lit room. He immediately stumbled upon a footlocker at the end of Santa's bed. With a grimace of pain appearing across his boney face, and a small gasp of air exhaling from his lungs, Pete knelled down to get a closer look at the well-worn small steamer trunk.
It had an undersized sliver lock on the front that was exquisitely made, and showed of the finest quality of workmanship. The main body of the chest was made of solid wood, which appeared to be an aged teak that must have come from a far-away and very ancient forest.
Etched across the wooden cover were three small words, in what appeared to be in an old elfish writing, Chest of Secrets.
The candlelight was diminished. With the cunning and stealth of a venomous snake in the wild, Squint-Eye Pete was off again, with the box neatly tucked under one long thin arm. He darted silently down the hallway, into the living room through the open window, out into the uncertainty of the night and well out of sight.
A practiced thief with another treasure nimbly pilfered.
Pete was away, passing though the back alleyways, and dark lifeless streets, past a few large storage bins, and trash dumpsters found at the outskirts of town, and back out of Snow Valley, towards the safety of the dark mountain.
The three Missouri Rats; Black Jack Tilly, Cool Joe Biggs, and Rags Martin along with Squint-Eye Pete's boys: Big Belly Bill, and Sleaze Ball Tom had not so long ago, been shipped back to the Saint Louis jail, to once more be incarcerated by Warden Sergeant Pettigrew for the tenth time. Each member of that crew of misfits, and criminals now had their names etched in stone above their jail cells with a real place of their own, to call home.
The Great Wrapping-Machine inside of The Great Hall was up and running once again. It had suffered only minor damage during that epic battle to save Christmas last year. All of the: friendly elf's, plump dwarfs, strong workingmen, mule-deer, and reindeer had since returned to the work they loved making presents for all of the children of the world. Louis and his friends had saved Christmas, just in time, and Santa's Village was once more a peaceful and serene place.
Alfeo the Lead Foreman of the Worker-Elf's was back at his old post overseeing the workings of the great machine. Elgar the 1st Class Lead Machinist elf had since returned to his job as well, as had the other Elf's in Santa Village. Elvina, (Algar's wife) was back baking cherry, and apple tarts, and brewing her special sweet teas. Of course, Santa Claus returned as well, helping out Charlie the Great White Horse in the daily running's of the village, The Great Wrapping-Machine, and the making of all the Christmas toys for the children of the world.
Nevertheless, the forces that drive evil are alive on the earth and still dwell...in weaker men's hearts.
Evil...knows no fear.
Evil...never sleeps.
Squint-Eye Pete had made his way down the dark mountainside though Snow Valley, and into the silent shadows of Santa's Village. After lurking and crawling about the village, he finally made his way to the main-square, then forwards to the entrance of the Great Hall.
It was well into the middle of the night, the village was found to be mostly quiet, this evening. Not wanting to cause a seen or draw attention to himself, Squint ever so gently poked his thin, bony head in through the open doors of the Great Hall all the while being careful, to hide his unsightly face.
Not a soul in sight.
Pete searched about the vast room, with the stealth of the Invisible Man. Slowly slinking about the room, a quick change of direction here and there, then off towards the rear offices.
Laid out on a few long tables were the work schedules of the workingmen, elf's time cards, remnants of a half-eaten sweet-tart empty coffee cups, and a medium-sized superbly smithed, mystical looking, silver key. Not knowing what the key was for but noticing that the key was crafted with great care, Pete advanced to stuff the key into his dirty black pants, front pocket.
Now looking about the room with no good intentions in his heart, he noticed an old newspaper strewn about the floor, at the rear of the room. He turned up the flame on the small gas lamp hanging overhead and pressed on, to scan over the pages.
The Snow Valley News was written in large black letters across the top of the page and down below that, the headlines read:
The Three "Missouri Rats" Captured By: "Louis the White".
The Saint Louis Jail Receives Three New Inmates.
Pete's long cold, probing fingers clinched the paper in his fists, with anger raging in his heart. His lone good eye (which was glowing in the faint light of the gas lamp) glared menacingly about the small, darkened back room. Pete lowered his head, with his large black wide-brimmed hat tilting downwards again towards the table, his evil eye which was partly covered by a tattered leather patch...was searching for answers.
Pete paused?deep in thought?searching for a resolve.
"Do I have to do everything myself? I give those two idiot boys of mine, and those other three stupid morons; one simple job to do, and they screw it up. Big Sal is goin to kill em, if I don't get to em first. I'm-a gonna read this here newspaper from front to back, and find out what is going on up here, but first I need to get out of this hall, and away from the upsetting smell of these awful, elves and dwarfs".
With this last thought in mind, Pete quickly departed though the back door of the office, and into the darkened alleyway. Slipping back into the shadows from which he belongs. As he passed though another back ally he noticed a just baked apple pie, cooling on an elf's lone rear, windowsill.
Without a second thought...the pie was gone...and so was Pete.
Covering himself with his large black trench coat, pulling his wide-brimmed hat down over his face one more time, and pulling up his coat collar up against, the cold arctic wind, he headed for a faint glowing gaslight at the farthest end of town, towards solitude and privacy. Upon sitting down on a small table perched under the light and devouring the apple pie, Pete began to read all about the recent goings-on, in Santa's Village.
There it was in bold print: the rescue of Santa's Village by Louis, Molly, and his friends, and the shipment of his Missouri Rats back to the Saint Louis jail. The flight of Louis, Charlie Junior, and Charlie on Christmas Eve this year; with them delivering most of the right presents, to the good kids of the world.
"I hate that freckle faced little kid, and that stupid horse"?thought Pete, time and again to himself, as he devoured the last of the fresh baked apple pie.
"I need a new plan. Nobody outwits Squint-Eye Pete, nobody!"
Pete's lone good eye and his fists could be seen scrunching up in anger, once again.
After a few moments of deep thought, Pete slowly tilted his head towards the starless, black night above. He gently removed the well-worn leather eye-patch covering his evil eye. In a low chilling voice, he called out into his own black, heartless world.
"Those Magic Jingle Bells will belong to me, and no one is going to stop me this time."
"No one is gonna stop me, I tells ya?not anyone...no how."
Pete kicked the empty pie tin into the air, and then ripped the newspaper into shreds with a wild flurry. Thrusting his hands into the lower front pockets of his black duster, he was off again, with his mind racing faster than his legs could carry him, back into the heart of Santa's Village.
After skulking and searching about the empty alleyways, and streets, for the better part of an hour he eventually stumbled upon what he was now looking for...Santa's house.
The modest, one story thatched covered hut, appeared to be quiet as a Sunday morning, with only a faint light coming from the smoldering brick fireplace, found in the living room. There was a small hallway leading to a few back bedrooms, and a small round living room at the center of the home that were full of over-stuffed furniture, low-lying tables, and a few sturdy wooden chairs.
Pete, after lurking under the window for a few moments decided that the coast was clear. He headed for the interior of the home, by way of the unlocked living room window. Having experience at this time of crime before, Pete had no problem negotiating his way through the dimly lit home. Quietly and quickly, he slunk about the home searching for an ill-gotten bounty.
He made his way down the wide, long hallway to a back room, where a door was slightly ajar. Upon peering inside, he found Santa Claus and Ms. Claus, in a deep slumber for the evening.
With a sneer swiftly appearing on his face he abruptly continued onwards, towards the last room found at the end of the hallway, en route to the very back of the home. After quietly opening the door at the base with his dirty black boot, he finally found what he was looking for...Santa's office.
There were countless amounts of papers loosely strewn about the oval shaped, mid-sized room, across his large wooden desk, and across the thick wooden floor. There were numerous bookcases found perched against the dark walls, full of leather-bound books. A large portrait was found on another wall that was hand-painted, which bore a full length picture of, Ms. Claus as well as Santa standing with all the elf's, in front of the Great Wrapping-Ma
Again, Squint-Eye snickered and sneered in disgust.
A low grumbling sound was heard coming from his throat.
After quietly searching about the room for the better part of ten minutes, again Pet, could not find what he was looking for...Santa's Secrets.
All great and famous men had secrets, and treasures. Pete knew this, as well as the next professional thief.
Where were the real valuables, the magic potions, old scriptures, famous writings, and the one of a kind, ancient scrolls? Santa Claus was almost three hundred years old. He had to have a secret chess, or safe stashed somewhere in this house.
It must be in his bedroom if not in his office, thought Pete.
Pete took a small wax-candle out of its holder off the wall. He lit it with the striking of a match. Upon cupping the candle ever so gently in his hand being sure not to let too much light off, he progressed out of the office, back towards Santa's bedroom. With another small thrust of his boot, Santa's bedroom door opened fully. Squint-Eye Pete entered the last place of earth that he should be: into the sanctum, and stillness of the purest and kindest man of earth.
Santa rolled over. He pulled the covers up over his face as a slight, unnatural breeze followed Pete into the room. A slight snort of air there, a scratch on the face here, was all Pete noticed, or heard from the sleeping couple. Pete moved forward into the dimly lit room. He immediately stumbled upon a footlocker at the end of Santa's bed. With a grimace of pain appearing across his boney face, and a small gasp of air exhaling from his lungs, Pete knelled down to get a closer look at the well-worn small steamer trunk.
It had an undersized sliver lock on the front that was exquisitely made, and showed of the finest quality of workmanship. The main body of the chest was made of solid wood, which appeared to be an aged teak that must have come from a far-away and very ancient forest.
Etched across the wooden cover were three small words, in what appeared to be in an old elfish writing, Chest of Secrets.
The candlelight was diminished. With the cunning and stealth of a venomous snake in the wild, Squint-Eye Pete was off again, with the box neatly tucked under one long thin arm. He darted silently down the hallway, into the living room through the open window, out into the uncertainty of the night and well out of sight.
A practiced thief with another treasure nimbly pilfered.
Pete was away, passing though the back alleyways, and dark lifeless streets, past a few large storage bins, and trash dumpsters found at the outskirts of town, and back out of Snow Valley, towards the safety of the dark mountain.