He'll Be Coming Down The Chimney Down Novels & Stories

I don’t want to die. ** A shuddering gasp broke from my lips. That terrible stench of bones was in the air, and I looked around me. A cheerful bright orange fire crackled in a black stove right beside me. I heard the sound of wood splitting, and I saw a white-haired young man tinkering with the ceiling. He pushed apart the roof so that a small hole opened up into the sky. He shoved a black cylinder connected to the stove up into the hole, and then he jumped down from the chair he stood on. He wiped the dust from his hands and admired his handiwork. I don’t think he knew I was awake.

There was no source of air nor illumination in this place asides from that blue fire that burned so angrily by the embers. There were no doors nor windows. We had passed through the chimney to get to this place. He bear from the raging fire burned through my face as I pushed through the narrow chimney with ropes tied around my limbs. Dan and landed on the hot, hard ground with a loud thud from jumping all the way from the roof top into this abyss.

Wisps of smoke curled from the chimney, signaling a warm fire crackling within. Stepping inside, I marveled at the simplicity and comfort of the space. The flickering glow from the hearth bathed the room in a soft, golden light, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The scent of herbs and wood enveloped me, offering a sense of familiarity and solace.

An unapologetic one at that. “Go meet the warriors, I’ll sort this thing out with Jameson and if you’re up for a date later?” he was walking toward the door as he spoke. My brows creased when he said the last part and I asked what he meant. He looked over his shoulder, this time the smile on his face was truly sinister. “We’ll go eat dinner down in the dungeon. I’ve heard scentless wolves have a special taste.” He bared his teeth, his eyes flashed golden for a moment.

she said coming closer to me just immediately a voiced boomed loudly, “I never said you can visit my home Winston,” Not entirely shocked, I looked up to see Mr Downs clearly annoyed and ready to shoot me.

he said. I smirked. I liked that he wasn't perfect in every area, it only made him more human. “Come down,” he said firmly. I quickly came up with an idea in my head. I smirked. “Help me” i said stretching out my arms. “What?” he asked, his brow raised. “I can't get down on my own” “But you got up on your own” “It's easier to climb than to get down” He ticked his tongue impatiently. “Elizabeth its the other way around. Get down now” he said and turned to leave.

She makes her way to the stairs, her heels clicking softly against the floor, and the staircase looms ahead, leading down to the dinner table waiting below. AUTHOR'S NOTE: RATE AND REVIEW GUYS. HOW'S THE HEAT COMING? 😁

The candle flickered wildly, shadows jumping like frantic spirits across the walls. Her heart pounded. “It’s okay, my love,” she whispered into Storm’s hair. “Mama’s got you. You’re safe now.” But the air was thin. The smoke from the dying fire made her cough. The heavy snow had plugged the chimney, the smoke could not escape. The room spun, her head light. No… not now. She sank to even lower, clutching Storm with all the strength she had. The air was running out. The snow above them was shifting, heavy and packed tight against the roof. She could hear it groaning, settling.

Cale sat down, dust motes dancing around him in the gloom. Elion went to the kitchen. He found the drawer—the junk drawer that every house has. Matches. Candles. A flashlight with questionable batteries. He lit a candle. A warm, yellow glow illuminated the kitchen. He walked back to the living room. Cale was sitting exactly where he left him. He was staring at the fireplace. "Chimney," Cale said. "Point of entry." "Santa Claus isn't coming for us, Cale." "Santa Claus is a mythological intruder. Lysander is real."

"You're dusty. What have you been doing to get dusty?" He glances down, looking startled, but as he brushes himself down, gives me a sidelong smile. "I lit the fire downstairs, ensuring we're good and warm for this evening. And I took down plenty of logs." The glass pausing partway to my mouth, "Downstairs? In your… um… playroom?" Lips twitching, he cants his head. "I'm guessing you would prefer that it's not Ross who stacks the logs in there?" "Um, no. You guess right." I gulp at my drink.