There he was, the Turkey trudging through the deep snow, his feet with small boots. His gizzard wrapped in a scarf. He walked against the snowy wind towards the blind white ahead of him. He knew where he was going. He was going North.

Along the way on his journey, he saw black crows circling above. He kept his march firm forward. He was a Turkey with a purpose. He continued along his path, his small footsteps disappearing quickly behind him with the wind. Eventually, he arrived to the edge of a cliff where a rope bridge was. He stopped, and let out a gobble. He stepped onto the first wooden plank of the bridge. He heard a cracking sound, and ice and snow fell from the bridge into the darkness below. After what seemed like an eternity, later came a thud where the debris found bottom.

The Turkey took another step, and another. Of course, one of the decrepit planks broke, but he didn’t fall. He was a careful Turkey.

Across the bridge, he continued his journey. This time, he made it to woods. In the woods, and under the cover of trees, he sat by a tree trunk. He took some corn from his pocket. He pecked at it. It was a humble meal. He napped, as a sleepy bird was he. When he awoke, he looked around at what seemed like a thousand eyes in front of him.

There was Jen. In his face. The spider had wrapped him in a web whilst he slept. She was eying up her prey. The SpiderJen spoke, “Turkey, you doth enter my forest on this of the coldest nights.”

The Turkey slyly replied, “And now, you plan to eat my corpse between these webs you wove.”

“Nay!” said the Spider. “I was just knitting you a blanket to keep warm.”

The Spider and the Turkey made tea, and she released him from his blanket tomb. She quickly knit him a new sweater and scarf for his journey. She told him “With great power, comes great responsibility, now be on your way fair bird to the ends of the world, where land collides with sky.”

The Turkey, donning the newest in arachnid fashion, continued onward. Eventually, he made it out of the woods, reaching a frozen lake. As he crossed the lake, careful not to slip on the ice, the wind and snow pounded down harder on him. A cyclone of snow surrounded him, and he stopped. His beak began to freeze.

In the cyclone, he began to see a face beyond the rapid flow of snow. He heard a soothing voice whisper into his ear, “Ara ara… Uwu.” The bird felt warmth flow through him. The voice continued “You will reach your destination soon, Mr. Bird. And there you will find solace and Simplicity. At the edge of the world, there is only black and white, and Clarity. And you will find the big man. Whether he is just big or bad is up to what is in your heart. Judgement will be rendered, Mr. Bird, but keep your pace fast… For there are vultures who follow…” The voice trailed off, and the cyclone dissipated.

The Turkey continued walking and reached the other side of the lake. Behind him, he heard cries. He could recognize the cries, but could not place exactly who the voices were. There were what seemed like thousands of them, even more numerous than the eyes of the SpiderJen. With each step he took, he tried to isolate the wails behind him. Finally, he realized, they were the final cries of those he had murdered, and as he took his further steps, each step he took was left behind him puddled with steaming blood.

The sky darkened, and he could see no more. He could not see his feet. He could not see ahead. He could not tell what was up or down. He could not tell if he was moving or still. And there was yet another voice that came to him, Gingerly in his ear. “Hark, there, Grand Turkey. You have come to the final barrier. I am the Gingerbread Guard. We have been waiting for you.”

The darkness, and smell of blood vanished into greens and reds and gold. There were midgets carrying toys or maybe dwarves. He could hear them working with tiny hammers. He walked towards a big wooden house. It had smoke rising from its chimney. He was going to finally meet Santa, the Great Judge of Character.

He knocked on the door, and the door swung open. He saw SantoRubio, and became confused “You are not, Santa,” said the Turkey. SantoRubio replied, “No, I am Santo, and I have to go. My Emu has run away, and Santa has given me the greatest of gifts, true love. True love can cleanse any atrocities and the debts of Syn.” Santo walked by him and out of the village.

The Turkey continued moseying inside the house. There was a big chair by a fireplace, but there was no one sitting in it. He waited around, as no one was there in the living room. He pecked some corn. He fell asleep by the fire, his feathers warmed. Finally, he heard stomping down creaky wooden steps. Santa had come down from his bedroom. “Hello, Mr. Turkey, have you been a good bird this year?”

The Turkey looked at Santa, “I’ve been better.”

Santa said, “I know, but you have tried to be good, and that is all that matters. What brings you here, feathered friend?”

The Turkey replies to Santa, “I come to find the gift of forgiveness in the world. I wish to apologize for my sins, and forgive others’ trespasses.”

Santa pauses for a moment. “Mr. Turkey, I think you are mistaken. I am not Jesus, but I can provide you with what you need. My job is to classify people about what they need, not what they can provide themselves.”

Santa reached into his bag of mystery. He hands the Turkey a box. Inside the box after unraveling the ribbons and paper, was something peculiar. The Turkey, as they do, pecked at it. It was a watch.

“Why do I need a watch, Santa?” said the Turkey.

“Because time destroys everything, Mr. Turkey. There are no sinners and no true saints in this world. Forgiveness is generally illusory and futile, as much as it is good practice to try. With this watch, let it guide you until those final minutes to the midnight of your days.”

The Turkey’s eyes went to black, and he heard the voice of a bear say, “That’s rough…”

In an alley, back in the city, the Turkey awoke and found himself on a stack of trash in the snow. In his hand, he found a half-eaten ear of cold corn, and in his other hand, he found an empty bottle of tequila. He stumbled to his feet and shook the snow from his feathers. As he exited the alley, he stumbled into SpikeS, knocking SpikeS’ lollypop into the snow. The Turkey said, “I’m sorry.”

SpikeS looked at the feathered bird, and said, “I forgive you,” and took another lollypop from his pocket. SpikeS then asked, “Do you have the time?” while looking to the Turkey’s watch on his leg.