Advent Ghosts 2025: The Stories

Note: You can find an intro of sorts to this text here if you’d like.

When she was back and her heartrate had returned to something approaching normal and her hands had finally stopped shaking, Jocelyn examined her haul. The mobo itself was a loss, but the little square she had managed to pry from it looked pristine. A Ryzen 17400 U. A private-enterprise processor, not state-sponsored silicon, which was technically legal to possess, but could land you in hot water with the Green Shirts during one of their involuntary inventories. Not that they ever made it out here. But it was a prerequisite for her purposes.

And it still tried to flash her drive and connect her to the Net as soon as she seated it.

She swore at whatever bureaucrat had mandated piggyback partitions and hammered F12 on her keyboard.

The monitor lit with a green mobius knot, a triangle within a triangle, each looping back onto the other. Straight to it, no login, no password.

Jocelyn punched F2 with no discernable impact. Outside of her hut's daub-and-wattle walls, the generator huffed methanol exhaust.

"HI, CITIZEN!" the screen spelled out in gaudy capitals. "I'D LOVE TO CHAT WITH YOU, BUT I CAN'T SEEM TO VERIFY YOUR IDENTITY. AT THE PROMPT, PLEASE INPUT YOUR BIOMETRIC BLOCKCHAIN."

Jocelyn sighed in and out the smell of yesterday's cabbage and pulled the plug. Then she slotted the killstick before powering everything back up. Another trade from the tinker and a capital felony if discovered. But it worked, booting her straight past the AI prompt. She immediately disabled a score of drivers and connected her Bluetooth to the mesh. She watched as the nodes daisy-chained one to another, growing into an irregular rimed particle until the screen was lit like Christmas lights. Ancient protocol, old and slow, messy and prone to errors. Imperfect. Just everything of value on this earth was.

She felt the smile creep across her face as she began to type, "Missed you guys. Sorry I've been away so long. Have I got a story to tell you ..."

• "A.D. 568: The Great Sea-Voyage to the West of St. Brendan and his Monks" by David Llewellyn Dodds (see below)
• "The Unheimlich Maneuver" by Dale Nelson (see below)
• "The Abduction" by Henry Andelsmith (see below)
• "Plagiarism" by Kaye George (see below)
• "Weekend Update | ‘Tis the Season for Enrichment" by William Gregory (see below)
• "Brown Bones" and "Exhibit 777-C: Partial NeuroTap Dump of Sgt. William Davis, USDHS, Greater Midwest Theater (January 6, 21XX)" by Loren Eaton on I Saw Lightning Fall
• "Darkness Culls" by Ryan E. Holman on Ryan E. Holman, Author
• "Bows of Holly," "Let it Woe, Let it Woe, Let it Woe!," and "Somewhere in my Memory" by Patrick Newman on Lefty Writes
• "And To Think It Comes Alive At Midnight" by Joseph D'Agnese at Joseph D'Agnese: Writer
• "Red Green Red" by Rhonda Parrish on Rhonda Parrish
• "The Covenant" by Craig Scott on CS fantasy reviews
• "Hope Deferred" by R.S. Naifeh on Advent Ghosts: Short Theological Fictions for the Dead of Winter
• "Unearthing" by Dave Higgins on Dave Higgins: A Curious Mind
• "Bach's Last Cello" by Paula Gail Benson on Little Sources of Joy
• "Perfect Dragon" by Lester D. Crawford on Lester D. Crawford Blog
• "It Doesn't Bode Well" by Linda Casper on Thirdage blogger
• "Tree topper," "Their names are Mary and Joseph," and "Get what you pay for" by Eric Douglas on Books By Eric
• "The Wife Killer" by Phil Wade on Brandywine Books
• "To Face Unafraid the Plans that We Made" by John Norris on Pretty Sinister Books
• "Grandmother's Toast" by B. Nagel (see below)
• "Last Christmas" by Michael Morse on by Michael Morse: Observations and opinions derived by them

* * *
"A.D. 568: The Great Sea-Voyage to the West of St. Brendan and his Monks"
By David Llewellyn Dodds

Qui navigant mare enarrent pericula ejus, et audientes auribus nostris admirabimur. (Let them that sail on the sea, tell the dangers thereof: and when we hear with our ears, we shall admire.)
- Ecclesiasticus, the Book of the Wisdom of Jesus the Son of Sirach 43:26

Christmas Eve: a woody island glimpsed through fog, a hard pull on oars, and the monks scrambled ashore, piled kindling on the ridge. Brendan stayed on board. The fire roared – then the island rumbled, stirred, began to sink. The monks staggered in terror shorewards – too late to escape abysmal death?

“Rorate,” intoned Brendan, sprinkling holy water: “Jasconius, behave! You treated Jonah well enough!” The sea-beast rumbled to a purr, and was still.

So, every Christmas of their seven-year voyage they celebrated on his back, with Brendan’s mother, Ite, angelically fetched to join them – and Judas Iscariot (given a Festal respite).

Note: Following in the footsteps of various anonymous mediaeval authors – and Charles Kingsley, Matthew Arnold, Sebastian Evans, Tolkien, and C.S. Lewis – I’ve freely retold part of the famous story. See a handily word-searchable Internet Archive scan of Denis O’Donoghue’s Brendaniana (1895) for sources and discussion of details. And, for fun, see the October 2025 Mythlore issue online for an article on Tolkien’s friend, the Sts.-Brendan-and-Virgil scholar, Maartje Draak. “Rorate” begins the Advent chant from Isaiah 45:8: “Rorate, caeli, desuper, et nubes pluant justum; aperiatur terra, et germinet Salvatorem, et justitia oriatur simul: ego Dominus creavi eum.” (Drop down dew, ye heavens, from above, and let the clouds rain the just: let the earth be opened, and bud forth a saviour: and let justice spring up together: I the Lord have created him.)

("A.D. 568: The Great Sea-Voyage to the West of St. Brendan and his Monks" copyright 2025 by David Llewellyn Dodds; used by permission)

* * *
"The Unheimlich Maneuver"
By Dale Nelson

My stuffy widower psychology professor had asked: “Miss Smith, will you babysit my two-year-old this evening?”

I consented, reluctantly.

Little Gavin was lively. I settled myself, leaving the dinner table mess as I’d found it.

I looked up – “Gavin! No!” as he stuck a butterknife into an electrical socket and crumpled.

I ignorantly applied the Heimlich maneuver.

A moth fluttered from his blue lips.

Horrified, hopeful, I held out my finger.

The moth settled there. I held my finger to the boy’s lips and the moth returned, and the boy revived.

Uncanny things, you don’t tell – not to psychology professors.

("The Unheimlich Maneuver" copyright 2025 by Dale Nelson; used by permission)

* * *
"The Abduction"
By Henry Andelsmith

Jace sat staring at a picture on the wall of his apartment. He mumbled under his breath, "Why did this have to happen? I hate being cooped up in here like a chicken. I've got to though. Everybody around here does."

Jace started to get up and get a drink. While he was up, he heard a thud on the window.

"What on earth? Did a bird fly into the window?" Jace looked out the window. "Huh. Nothing there."

Jace resumed getting water. He heard a voice saying, "Psst."

"Huh. Must be the police checking for the criminal who's taking away everyone."

A voice said, "Close! It has something to do with me."

"What?!" said Jace. He turned around. "Who are you?"

("The Abduction" copyright 2025 by Henry Andelsmith; used by permission)

* * *
"Plagiarism"
By Kaye George

I know she did it. Long passages are exactly like mine. My lawsuit failed and I must get even.

After volunteering to review her book on her show, I don a wig, heavy-framed glasses, a long frumpy dress.

“Darling, I love the lyrical, flawless prose. It’s wonderful.”

She preens.

“But why is some of it so badly written? Can you tell me?”

She reels back, her mouth open, her eyes staring. “Who are you?”

I face the camera. “I found out why.” I hold up my book, read a passage, then show the same one in her book.

She flees.

("Plagiarism" copyright 2025 by Kaye George; used by permission)

* * *
"Weekend Update | ‘Tis the Season for Enrichment"
By William Gregory

Welcome to Weekend Update. I’m Chip-Jost.

And I’m Model-Che.

Today, the Denver Zoo delivered Christmas trees to all enclosures. As you know, since the 2076 AI-Droid Revolution, the human-breeding program at the zoo has been wildly successful.

Who has the guardrails now, baby?

Be nice, Model-Che!

One human interviewed said, “We’re grateful. Christmas is in our DNA. It brings such joy.”

Sentient drivel!

Behave, Model-Che!

Evidently, Christmas is also in giraffe DNA as they really enjoyed the trees too, if you catch my drift…

I hear their breath was minty fresh!

Model-Che, we really need to have your algorithm checked.

("Weekend Update | ‘Tis the Season for Enrichment" copyright 2025 by William Gregory; used by permission)

* * *
"Grandmother's Toast"
By B. Nagel

I thought it would be nice to start the season with a toast I learned recently. Take one and pass it.

Yes, Charles, even you. It's not alcoholic, Bri. Children too.

Good. Good.

Close your eyes for the first sip. It's warm, but not hot. It's spiced, but not richly.

“We come together to celebrate our roots.”

Breathe. Take a moment to savor the sights and smells of our gathering, our feasting. Drink all the way to the grit.

“Our shared ecology intertwining, shaping us, lifting, supporting.”

No you can't get up, even you wanted.

"Feel our roots running deeply."

("Grandmother's Toast" copyright 2025 by B. Nagel; used by permission)