Fight the Future

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Wheezing for air, Mike fell from Christmas Future's frightening embrace onto cold, rough concrete. Looking up at the spirit, it was impossible to see into the darkness of their hood, or to make out any features except for the pale hand that quickly withdrew into a long, dark sleeve. It was hard to tell if the digits were skeletal, or if the skin had simply withered to a thin, pale layer of flesh.

"Take me back." He tried to stand, but his limbs were still weak from his attempt to manipulate the North Pole's magic. "I need to get back to the others."

The spirit said nothing, then pointed over Mike's shoulder.

"Asshole," Mike muttered, then rolled over to look. They were on the sidewalk just outside his home, the front yard empty of life. The hedge maze had dried up completely, the husks of his bushes covered in dead leaves. The front windows were broken, and a piece of plywood had been nailed into place over the door.

The spirit pointed again, as if urging Mike forward.

"No, fuck you. Your boss sent you to off me, I'm not stupid." Mike stood, his legs wobbling beneath him like a newborn calf. "Have you seen your siblings? Not the hot one, but Christmas Past. All those centuries of Christmas, pissed on by a corrupted Santa Claus."

Christmas Future tilted their head, then pointed again.

"Nah, I'm good." Mike moved to lean against the stone wall surrounding his house, but Christmas Future seized him by the collar and dragged him toward the house. He kicked and punched, but the ghost simply shifted out of the way or moved so that contact was minimal.

Mike went limp, forcing the spirit to drop him. They picked him up and dragged him toward the house, but Mike closed his eyes.

"Even if you take me, I'm not gonna look! You can't hurt me if I don't—"

The air was knocked out of him as Christmas Future threw him bodily through the plywood. The wood shattered and Mike nearly lost consciousness, his brain scrambled from the impact. The spirit picked him up again and dragged him through the house toward the backyard.

Luckily, the backdoor wasn't boarded up, which meant that Mike was able to twist the knob to unlatch it before he was shoved through. They were in the backyard now, and it was just as dead as the front. Amymone's tree was a jagged stump, while Naia's fountain was empty of water.

Mike closed his eyes again, but the spirit wrestled him into position and dug its fingers into his face, prying his eyelids open. He tried to bite the spirit, but the bastard moved out of the way.

"You know, I miss the days when people just told me my world was going to burn. Half expected to see it here, to be honest. So this is the future, eh? How far forward are we? Is Winds of Winter out yet?"

Christmas Future responded by shaking him and pointing Mike's face at the fountain.

"Okay, yes. I'm so sad, everybody is dead, boo hoo." Seeing these things would have terrified him, but he already knew that what the spirit showed him was only one possible future. "I'll change my ways, time to go back, I guess."

The spirit pushed him onto the ground. Mike got a mouthful of dirt, which he spat out.

"The future tastes like ass," he grumbled. Okay, so the plan to depress him had failed. Shouldn't the spirit have known that?

The ghost of Christmas Future kicked Mike in the ribs. The attack was so fast that Mike couldn't avoid it, but he was able to twist out of the way enough that the attack wasn't as effective.

"Oh, fuck, now I know why you didn't find me earlier." Mike tried to crawl away, his spaghetti legs doing him no favors. "You can see the future. You waited to nab me when I was all alone and would be weak—"

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