You hold in your hands a piece of a puzzle far grander than you could ever know. For scrawled in blood upon the pages are stories twisted thirty-one in all, soaked in eggnog and Christmas lore. Five minutes to glimpse inside the eyes of someone new, five minutes to ponder, five minutes to sing, five minutes to do almost anything. A tree, a elf, a reindeer, a doomsday. A fat man, a chimney, a sack, a sleigh. Mirrored reflections, a present or two. Death and division, humanity askew. A sock stuffed with coal, underpants up a flagpole, so many moments out there to see, so many things you could see with me. So take a seat beside me and call it voodoo, because now you ride the sleigh with me too...