A
Literature
All I Want for Christmas... The dust settled, the clamour of combat had stilled, and the cacophony of chaos had fallen quiet. Simplicity let out a long, slow, deep breath. Just barely remaining steady on her feet as she looked around at the carnage. Clutching Keith Floyd's Christmas Cookbook under one arm, and a very battered, dented menorah in the other hand. The interior of Moonbucks Coffee was a smouldering ruin. Splintered and shattered carnivorous Christmas trees, more than a few Krampus-shaped holes in the roof, walls, and floor, and the bodies of the now much-diminished Cult of Christmass littered the place. Not to mention the decorations scattered about the place where the elf riot squad had stormed through. ...at last, Christmas was over. Mostly. She wasn't sure or not whether there'd ever truly been a war 'on' Christmas like the cult believed, but it looked like there'd been a war 'at' Christmas. She swayed, slightly, hardly able to believe she was still standing. Her head ached, her vision swam
