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"Dear Santa" - a lost 1989 manuscript by Michael Arnzen

"Dear Santa" - a lost 1989 manuscript by Michael Arnzen

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Published by Michael Arnzen
"Dear Santa" is a found manuscript of Michael Arnzen's very first horror story (a Christmas letter written by a madman) to be accepted by a publisher -- GAS magazine in 1989 -- but which never saw print.
"Dear Santa" is a found manuscript of Michael Arnzen's very first horror story (a Christmas letter written by a madman) to be accepted by a publisher -- GAS magazine in 1989 -- but which never saw print.

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Published by: Michael Arnzen on Dec 19, 2010
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved

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12/23/2013

pdf

 
About
 
"Dear
 
Santa"
 
 An
 
Unpublished 
 
Early 
 
Manuscript 
 
(1989)
 
by
 
Michael
 
A.
 
Arnzen
 
The
 
story
 
you
 
are
 
about
 
to
 
read
 
is
 
the
 
first
 
short
 
story
 
I
 
ever
 
had
 
accepted
 
for
 
publication
,
 
way
 
back
 
in
 
the
 
1980s.
 
It
 
was
 
scheduled
 
to
 
appear
 
in
 
a
 
fun
 
little
 
magazine
 
of 
 
humorous
 
horror
 
called
 
GAS
‐‐
which
 
was
 
a
 
lot
 
like
 
MAD
 
magazine,
 
only
 
madder
 
(the
 
acronym,
 
believe
 
it
 
or
 
not,
 
stood
 
for
 
"Gross
 
American's
 
Society").
 
I
 
was
 
so
 
excited
 
to
 
receive
 
editor
 
Jeannette
 
Hopper's
 
fun
 
acceptance
 
letter,
 
also
 
included
 
here,
 
welcoming
 
me
 
into
 
eternal
 
infamy.
 
But,
 
alas,
 
GAS
 
ran
 
out
 
of 
 
gas
 
and
 
closed
 
shop
 
shortly
 
thereafter.
 
"Dear
 
Santa"
 
never
 
saw
 
the
 
light
 
of 
 
day.
 
In
 
fact,
 
I
 
thought
 
the
 
story
 
was
 
lost
 
forever.
 
And
 
maybe
 
for
 
the
 
better.
 
I
 
wrote
 
this
 
thing
 
when
 
I
 
was
 
a
 
college
 
student,
 
hacking
 
on
 
an
 
archaic
 
Brother
 
word
 
processor
‐‐
one
 
of 
 
the
 
first
 
electronic
 
typewriters
 
of 
 
its
 
kind,
 
which
 
had
 
a
 
golden
 
screen
 
where
 
you
 
could
 
actually
 
see
 
and 
 
change
 
your 
 
words
 
before
 
they
 
printed
 
onto
 
the
 
page!
 
Like,
 
totally
 
awesome!
 
It
 
even
‐‐
dude!
‐‐
allowed
 
you
 
to
 
save
 
your
 
writing
 
on
 
something
 
called
 
a
 
"floppy
 
disk"!
 
Let
 
the
 
daisy
 
wheel
 
fly,
 
Brother!
 
A
 
lot
 
of 
 
good
 
it
 
did
 
me,
 
though,
 
because
 
I
 
now
 
have
 
no
 
way
 
to
 
read
 
these
 
old
 
disks
 
with
 
my
 
first
 
feeble
 
attempts
 
at
 
fiction
 
and
 
poetry
 
on
 
them.
 
Luckily,
 
I
 
printed
 
backup
 
copies
 
out
 
of 
 
paranoia.
 
I
 
thought
 
I'd
 
neglected
 
to
 
save
 
a
 
copy
 
of 
 
"Dear
 
Santa,"
 
because
 
it
 
wasn't
 
in
 
my
 
usual
 
archives.
 
But
 
I
 
stumbled
 
on
 
this
 
manuscript
 
recently,
 
and
 
it
 
was
 
like
 
discovering
 
a
 
funky
 
old
 
photo
 
from
 
childhood.
 
The
 
story
 
isn't
 
good,
 
but
 
I
 
thought
 
I'd
 
share
 
it
 
with
 
curious
 
readers
 
anyway.
 
It's
 
certainly
 
not
 
good
 
enough
 
for
 
submitting
 
to
 
editors
 
now
 
in
 
my
 
career,
 
some
 
four
 
Bram
 
Stoker
 
Awards
 
and
 
a
 
PhD.
 
In
 
Literature
 
later.
 
I
 
probably
 
should
 
have
 
burned
 
it,
 
and
 
counted
 
myself 
 
lucky
 
that
 
I
 
was
 
able
 
to
 
save
 
myself 
 
the
 
public
 
humiliation.
 
But
 
since
 
Black
 
Friday,
 
I've
 
kept
 
thinking
 
about
 
what
 
to
 
do
 
with
 
this
 
"lost"
 
story.
 
Against
 
my
 
better
 
 judgment,
 
I've
 
decided
 
to
 
scan
 
it
 
and
 
share
 
it
 
now
 
with
 
you
 
here.
 
Call
 
it
 
"regifting"
 
if 
 
you
 
like…this
 
is
 
my
 
ill
conceived
 
gift
 
to
 
you
 
this
 
holiday
 
season.
 
Merry
 
Christmas!
 
Enjoy
 
this
 
twenty
one
 
year
 
old
 
story.
 
If 
 
you
 
like
 
it,
 
you're
 
very
 
kind.
 
The
 
scribbles
 
are
 
authentic,
 
as
 
are
 
all
 
the
 
stains,
 
misspellings,
 
and
 
stupidity
 
it
 
contains.
 
I
 
see
 
I
 
scratched
 
"old"
 
on
 
the
 
bottom
 
of 
 
every
 
page,
 
which
 
presumably
 
means
 
that
 
this
 
was
 
not
 
only
 
one
 
of 
 
my
 
first
 
stories,
 
but
 
an
 
early
 
draft 
 
of 
 
one.
 
Apparently,
 
I
 
felt
 
the
 
two
 
sentences
 
I
 
added
 
by
 
hand
 
were
 
the
 
only
 
icing
 
this
 
terrible
 
cake
 
needed
 
before
 
I
 
re
submitted
 
it
 
to
 
GAS
.
 
I
 
also
 
see
 
that
 
I
 
tagged
 
the
 
manuscript
 
with
 
the
 
publication
 
info
 
before
 
I
 
filed
 
it
 
away
 
 
this
 
was
 
wishful
 
thinking,
 
as
 
no
 
one
 
has
 
ever 
 
seen
 
this
 
story
 
until
 
you
 ,
 
right 
 
here
 
and 
 
now.
 
I've
 
redacted
 
it
 
a
 
bit
 
to
 
shield
 
the
 
eyes
 
of 
 
innocent
 
children.
 
No;
 
the
 
truth
 
is
 
that
 
I
 
 just
 
wanted
 
to
 
blot
 
out
 
my
 
old
 
address
 
to
 
protect
 
whoever
 
lives
 
there
 
now,
 
and
 
I
 
 just
 
kept
 
going
 
when
 
I
 
saw
 
the
 
curse
 
words
 
because
 
I
 
think
 
those
 
black
 
bars
 
make
 
it
 
look
 
nastier
 
than
 
it
 
is…like
 
it
 
came
 
out
 
of 
 
some
 
kind
 
of 
 
evidence
 
file.
 
Maybe
 
it
 
did,
 
actually.
 ‐‐
Michael
 
A.
 
Arnzen,
 
Christmas
 
2010
 
 p.s.
 
If 
 
you
 
like
 
this
 
story,
 
you're
 
a
 
special 
 
kind 
 
of 
 
 person.
 
You'd 
 
 probably 
 
also
 
enjoy 
 
my 
 
book 
 
100
 
Jolts:
 
Shockingly
 
Short
 
Stories
and 
 
wherever 
 
Bizarro
 
books
 
are
 
sold.
 

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