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Winter's icy claws scraped at the frosty window panes of the Graves family's rambling Victorian mansion, situated deep in the monster-filled woods of Peculiar, Missouri. Vincent Graves reclined in his leather wingback chair, the faint flicker of candlelight barely illuminating his slender frame and raven hair. 	A neglected mug of eggnog cooled on the side table as Vincent scribbled furiously on a legal pad, crafting his seasonal film review column titled "Grave_Reviews." This year's Christmas movie offerings failed to conjure even a flicker of Vincent's interest, much less holiday cheer."Sentimental claptrap," he grumbled, scratching out yet another scathing critique. 	A sudden knock echoed from the front gate outside, the sound hollow and thin in the icy night air. Vincent peered out between heavy velvet drapes to glimpse a hunched figure lurking in the shadows beyond the iron fence. With mild curiosity, Vincent slipped on his black cloak and ventured out, long strides crunching through the freshly fallen snow.	Moonlight illuminated the ghoulish features of Rotten Ralph, the Tomb Caretaker, as he leaned heavily on a makeshift cane. "Vincey, you old fiend!" Ralph croaked, bits of flesh sloughing off his grin to plop on the frozen ground. "Care to let an old pal in from the cold night?"Vincent's lips curled into an involuntary smile. "Ralph, you wretched corpse! It's been an age." He unlatched the gate to usher his undead companion inside.	Once settled by the fire, Ralph recounted his tale over mugs of mulled bone wine. All Hallow's Eve this year held little appeal for Ralph. "I felt...fatigued, Vince. Going through the motions. Haunting without heart." The specter stared into swirling bones and blood. "I lost my passion."	Vincent raised one eyebrow. "Passion? But fright and gore have always thrilled your feeble veins."Ralph nodded. "Yes, but I love the Christmas season most of all. The witching hour. Spirited carols fill the crisp night air! But lately...bah, humbug." He snorted derisively.	Vincent felt an unwelcome pang in his chest at Ralph's words. Had callousness infected his own icy heart this season? Forcing cheer into his tone, Vincent suggested a moonlit stroll to revive Ralph's ghoulish spirit. The old friends strode through wood and meadow blanketed in glittering snow, reminiscing about youthful Halloween escapades and wassails.	As the hushed woods awakened with the chattering of night creatures, Ralph grasped Vincent’s arm. "I must confess, Vincey...I am here on a mission. I was sent by three spectral visitors to thaw your frozen heart towards Yuletide and inspire you to kindle Christmas joy."	Before Vincent could scoff, Ralph's bony fingers squeezed firmly. "They seek to save you from my fate, Vincent Graves. Heed their spectral wisdom...do not descend into the same bleak abyss of bitterness that trapped me." His hollow eyesockets bored into Vincent's. "Swear to me that you will listen.”	A shiver traced Vincent’s spine unrelated to the icy wind whispering through barren branches overhead. The conviction in Ralph’s voice brooked no flippant reply. Swallowing stiffly, Vincent rasped the required oath.Ralph's torn lips stretched wider as he released Vincent's arm with a decisive nod. “Excellent! My work here is done.” With a snap of his desiccated fingers, Ralph began fading to transparency as mist rose. “Expect the first visitor at the witching hour, Vincey! Oh, and send my regards to Morana and the kiddies...Happy Christmas!”	Vincent stood motionless in swirling snow long after Ralph's unearthly chuckle faded, leaving only a skeletal set of footprints leading towards the distant woods. Could moribund old Ralph truly be concerned for Vincent's soul? And who were these mysterious entities intent on intruding into his home and private affairs?	Rubbing frozen fingers together, Vincent turned towards his crumbling castle, Ralph’s cryptic warning still echoing through his mind. If ghoulish ghosts insisted on haunting him over Christmas nonsense, he would be ready at the witching hour to face whatever phantom dared enter Vincent Graves' domain – and dispel their saccharine sentiments! 	With grim determination against supernatural interference, Vincent trod home as the ancient clock tower chimed midnight over Peculiar.

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A VERY GRAVE CHRISTMAS

JOE_KING

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JOE KING

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