We stepped away from the spreadsheets and wrote a short Christmas story—just for fun. No technical deep dives, just creativity, magic, and seasonal cheer. We hope you enjoy it and have a wonderful holiday season! Sincerely, the Hash Basis team.🎄📚

A long time ago in the kingdom of Wingnut, there lived the most famous bookbender of all time, Miss Drabelia Snowdrop. What is a bookbender, one may ask? Bookbenders were the highest profession that one could aspire to in Wingnut, second only to the King and Queen themselves. They were considered the financial stewards of the city, ensuring the books were rendered faithfully so businesses could prosper. Every living creature, from the stray salt & pepper-colored dogs lining the main street to the priests, chanting and covered in a mist of incense, respected them.

Drabelia only appeared during Christmastime and her services were so sought after that she worked tirelessly during the holiday season. She was neither young nor old, neither beautiful nor ugly, but she possessed a certain regal air about her. She was a master of her craft, but she didn’t give off any pretenses about being the best. Her brown hair softly framed her face as she went about her work, sifting through records and tying the numbers together in a beautiful symphony. No one knew where she disappeared to for the other eleven months of the year, but they knew one thing - when Drabelia returned in December, she brought warmth and order to the frigid wintertime. She had been coming to Wingnut for the last twenty years, floating into town and saving all the business owners with her knowledge and wit. 

Of course, other bookbenders lived in Wingnut and worked throughout the year, but they were prone to mistakes since bookbending was an arduous profession. It was common for bookbenders to become blind after their tenth year on the job due to the strain of always sifting, sifting, sifting through mountains of records and numbers. But not Drabelia. If anything, her experience sharpened her vision and she could recognize a shortcoming in the numbers with a casual glance. Not only that, but she actively advised the business owners, giving them tips on how to increase their profit, sustain their margins and make their employees happier. She was truly magnanimous and great.

Drabelia had no assistants because her bookbending process was mystical and required an immense amount of experience. When her customers delivered her stacks of papers containing receipts, contracts, invoices, bills and transaction hashes, she beamed upon them, illuminating them with her joy. Her entire being would enter a trance and in the flash of a few inspired, frenzied moments, her hands would fly between the records and a red leather-bound ledger, a quill dipped in black ink barely perceptible. The invoices would fly into the air before being caught and organized alphabetically. The receipts would be stapled to the bank statements with such dexterity that it almost seemed like Drabelia had ten hands. 

Within a few minutes, the precious stack of documents would be sorted and all entries would be entered into the ledger. Drabelia would bow deeply to the business owner, her freckly nose touching her kneecaps, and then snap back up with a salute. “Let me explain everything to you now,” she’d say matter-of-factly, and she would proceed to explain the financial statements with such clarity and respect that her customers were stunned. She held the ledger gingerly and seemed to love every line item as if it were her child. In fact, no one knew if she had any children or family of her own. She always appeared in Wingnut alone and left without a sound. The business owners would throw coins at her, practically begging her to take their hard-earned money, but Drabelia declined, insisting her skills were a public service. “I have no need for money now,” she would say cryptically. After her work was done, she would float out of the office and into the next home, wiping her ink-stained hands on a little kerchief embroidered with the letter “D.”

She continued in this manner for twenty seasons, earning the affection and esteem of Wingnut. Thousands of businesses were started just so the owners could have the honor of Drabelia Snowdrop completing their books.  Wingnut thrived and it was estimated that 90% of the population had their own company. Financial statement auditors were extremely bored because they never found any errors or fraud in the books prepared by Drabelia. The auditors spent their days drinking hot toddies and discussing tax regulations that they never ended up implementing.

But that all changed in the twenty-first year.

When Drabelia walked into town, the chilly air nipping at her exposed face, she immediately sensed that something was different. The buildings in town had a darker, sadder hue and the usual sounds of life - the laughter coming from the bar, couples stealing a kiss under the lamplight and dogs barking at passersby - was gone. Instead, there was a dull whistle of the wind and a faint creaking noise coming from the other side of town, like a gate in desperate need of a new bolt. Her body screamed at her to run away, but her intuition kept her rooted in place. Whatever had afflicted this town, it was surely related to that godforsaken sound. She walked past the homes, the windows either dark or shuttered with wood, but she sensed a few bodies, quivering and scared, behind the splintered doors. Something evil had crept into Wingnut, and she was determined to root it out.

As she rounded the corner, the answer suddenly loomed in front of her as a tall, lifeless skyscraper came into view. There were floors upon floors of lightless windows, all in varying shades of gray. The lines of the building were aggressive and vertical, but she didn’t get the uplifting sense that the straight lines were leading to heaven. Instead, they thickened towards the bottom and headed into the earth with malice. Drabelia wouldn’t be surprised if a fiery pit of the worst kind of industry was sequestered there. Felled trees, fire, blood oozing…her imagination got the better of her and she shuddered. But just then, the doors of the skyscraper slowly opened and a tall, wiry man scurried out the front door. He was donned in dirty gray robes and had a matching mustache. Drabelia could’ve sworn she saw a line of black ants crawling out of his mustache and into his right ear. The man approached her, staring her dead in the eye without blinking. He lifted his papery hands as if to extend a handshake, but dropped them upon seeing the ink wells peaking out from her pockets.

“The famous Miss Drabelia Snowdrop, is it really you?” he asked with a sneer.

“Yes,” said Drabelia cooly, assessing whether she could outrun this snake or - if he attacked her - if she could take him. There was something off about this doorman, from his toupee down to his pointy green shoes.

“My boss has been expecting you, please follow me,” the man continued, turning around and ushering her into the gray building of death. A cold air, somehow unfriendly and mean, washed over her in the lobby. There were no decorations in the office, not even a houseplant or painting of wheatfields. She shivered again but followed the stranger to the elevators without a word. She was led on by an unwavering sense of duty to record the books, no matter how sinister the business owners.

“May I ask what business you conduct here?” asked Drabelia, watching as the elevator buttons slowly sputtered to life and the mechanical box began to move up. She felt a knot in her stomach, which only tightened when the man replied, “Oh you’ll see. I suspect you’ve never worked with a business like ours before.” And he smiled the most horrific, oily smile that Drabelia had ever seen. His teeth looked deliberately sharpened and had a black hue, like cavities were permanent residents. She instinctively clutched the kerchief with the embroidered “D” in her jacket pocket.

The elevator doors wheezed open and Drabelia was…perplexed. She saw an office space with desks, lamps, notepads, sharpened pencils and workers. But there was something else that was peculiar. She noticed little boxes that emitted bright, almost nauseating light and a droll hum. Images were dancing across the screen in a mesmerizing pattern but at the same time, she felt empty inside. The workers’ eyes were glued to these metal boxes and at times, they would jump up, desperately clawing at the screen. She noticed the nails of the closest worker and they were reduced to nubs, red and raw where a healthy nailbed should’ve been. Peering closer, she noticed the images in the boxes were of people. They were beautiful and healthy, grinning in tight clothes with their arms thrown around one another. Some people were holding up gold trophies or surrounded by luxurious gems.

“What is this place?” Drabelia muttered, a sense of horror gripping her insides. What happened to her beloved kingdom of bakers, brewers, cobblers, and masons? The women painting stunning murals outside and the men drinking cups of tea on the lawn? Their eyes would fill with wonder and humanity while Drabelia worked, but now…the eyes around her were cloudy and dying. A spark of life would appear only when the workers were triggered by the images, their irises flaming alive in the most terrible, demonic way.

“This place is the future,” came a cocky voice from behind Drabelia. She wheeled around and was eye level with a young woman wearing a prune-colored dress. Her face was pure as a clear pond but there was something off about her demeanor, like she was talking down to you despite her doll frame. She continued, 

“We invented the most magical, wonderful device humanity has ever witnessed: The Sucker. It’s a device that displays images of your ideal self so you can be inspired to greatness. I come from the city of Hollowland, in the east. We are a technical race but I was getting...bored there. So I brought my greatest invention to Wingnut and you can see the progress so far. I mean, these people are positively rioting! All of these people, from the King and Queen to the lowliest cobbler, are witnessing what they could be. They gave up their businesses so they could join us, a most noble choice if you ask me. And yes, we do collect a fee for using these machines, but as you can see, it’s for the betterment of all.” She fondly rubbed the shoulder of a man who was screaming, looking madly at a picture of himself, buff, tan and surrounded by treasures. Drabelia gazed in horror at the man, suddenly realizing it was the King himself. These “workers” weren’t employees, but rather, sickened customers.

“What have you done to these people!” she gasped, reaching for her ink well.

“Oh, there’s no need for raising your voice, dear Drabelia,” said the woman dryly. “You’re here to work, after all.” She looked pointedly at a desk in the middle of the room - there were a few papers and pencil shavings scattered on it.

“We need your bookbending skills so we can show our investors back in Hollowland how much money we earned this year.”

Pained beyond words but bound to her sacred Bookbender oath, Drabelia tore her eyes from the sad visage of the King and walked towards the desk, her back hunched. Bookbending was an ancient, revered art, meant for sustainable and positive businesses, not companies with far-away investors that suck the life out of their patrons. But still - Drabelia couldn’t say no to a bookbending job since it was her life’s purpose and mission. She sadly placed her quill and ink well on the desk and clutched her kerchief for moral support.

“Bring me the papers,” she said dejectedly, realizing the woman had only provided a few haphazard bank statements and a few receipts that didn’t make sense. First they trap the people and now they taunt me with this paltry support? thought Drabelia. She looked at the doorman, who hadn’t said a word this entire time - maybe he was the clerk as well?

But the snide woman only laughed, a bone-chilling laugh that raised the soft hairs on Drabelia’s neck.

“What do you mean? You’re a bookbender aren’t you - you don’t need the actual numbers!” and she continued cackling, leaning on the desk for support. Drabelia was confused by her mirth. To add insult to injury, maybe this woman was playing a trick on her? Based on what Drabelia saw, she wouldn’t put it past them. The customers in the office space were still fixated on their silver screens, their eyes betraying longing, desire and lust. Meanwhile, the woman was smiling at Drabelia, like they were sharing some funny inside joke.

“I’m sorry to cut to the chase,” began Drabelia, “but in order to complete the books, I need records of all transactions and either receipts, invoices or bills to verify the transactions are for a legitimate business purpose. Please also provide bank statements so I can tie out ending balances and your incorporation documents so I can see what entity structure you’re taxed as. Only then can I provide the most helpful advice to you.” And once again, Drabelia bowed respectfully, since even though she abhorred this woman, she was still her customer.

The woman’s grin was wiped off her face. She leaned her face menacingly towards Drabelia until her nose was only a half inch away. She reeked of a foul smoky odor.

“Let’s get one thing straight, old woman. You work for me,” and she jabbed her thumb in towards her chest. “You report the numbers like I want you to report them.” She pulled out a tiny notebook from her pocket and began reciting, “We made revenue of $1,375,667 this year and our COGs was only $10,000. Our general business expenses are very low, let’s say, $50,000 total and my bonus was hmmm.. $100,000? Yes, let’s report that. The investors don’t need to know what actually landed in my bank.” She winked, seemingly at herself.

She faced Drabelia again. “I heard you were the best bookbender in the kingdom of Wingnut, which is why you’re here now. We…encouraged the residents to stay inside so you'd come to our building first. And lucky you! You get to witness our marvel firsthand.” She waved her hands across the hoards of patrons, even as some of them jumped up or whimpered in agony.

Drabelia stared at the documents in front of her in silence, dumbfounded. The bank statement was torn at the bottom and the receipt was for fried chicken. “So let me repeat the task you ask of me: you would have me commit fraud and cook your books?”

“Not cook the books,” said the woman impatiently. “Rather, bend them.”

At this remark, Drabelia stood up suddenly and pushed the desk away from her. She seemed to grow another foot in her anger and towered above the prune-colored woman, piercing her with an omniscient, frightful gaze. Her blouse seemed to gleam a brilliant white and her hair, normally an average chocolate brown, shined and flowed behind her. In a flash, she grabbed the ink well from the desk and threw ink into the woman’s eyes. Black liquid flowed down her cheeks as she cried out and stumbled back in shock. She rubbed her eyes furiously, but they were gaping holes, burning and withering away in the dim light.

Her lackey, the robed man with the mustache, ran forward angrily, but Drabelia only pelted ink into his eyes as well. She whispered an ancient incantation, one she had forgotten until that very moment:

Let’s those who taint the art of bookbending perish

For they bleed stains of ignorance onto our noble books

They misunderstand the ways of truth and light

Instead preferring to be agents of the dark night

Be gone!

Drabelia thundered more words in a foreign tongue and struck her hand down on the table. It cracked in half, the documents sizzling and curling in flames. She looked pleased for a moment, but then looked around, trying to figure out a way to release these customers from their nightmare. She eyed a small silver device that had fallen out of the woman’s pocket in her agony. It had a variety of small buttons and one that had the word “Stop” on it. Drabelia lunged towards the remote.

“Wait!” exclaimed the woman, not able to see but still sensing Drabelia reaching towards her.

“This is all an innocent mistake. In my country of Hollowland, the Bookbenders are all like that - they lie, they cheat, and they deceive until the books are more fiction than reality. They uphold an oath of fraud and swear to mislead all business owners. But the system works, I promise! It’s filled with prosperous entities like the one you see here.”

Drabelia’s anger faded and instead, she was overcome by pity. Her mind was transported back to Bookbending 101, her first bookbending class she attended about 5,000 fortnights ago. She had been just a girl then, childish and filled with hope for her future. She dreamed of bringing order and clarity to businesses, to help them untangle the mess of numbers and contracts. She wanted to help people. During that class, she remembered her professor, a stumpy man with a snow white beard, talking about the ancient history of Bookbending. 

“The first Bookbender to grace the lands was named Maeve. She was renowned for her ethics and skill in seeing through the heart of any business. She was kind but firm and upheld truth above all other values. She had two children, Isolde and Valinor, whom she passed the art of bookbending down to. But Valinor turned into a bitter man and questioned the morals his mother had taught her. ‘Why must I do the right thing? I can write down any number and people will pay for it.’ he reasoned. Maeve tried steering her son down the right path, but upon his twenty-first birthday, he swore a soul-binding oath of fraud and disappeared from the land of the mortals. Legend has it that all these years, he’s been building a fraud curriculum to teach the next generation of Bookbenders. Isolde, on the other hand, was a loyal soul and upheld her mother’s stoic teachings. She established the School of Truth, the forerunner of our school today. She taught the basics of what she called ‘Noble Bookbending’. She had eight truths:

• Report the numbers faithfully
• Double and triple check your work
• Always tie back numbers in the bank statement to underlying support (invoice, bill, receipt)
• Debits equal credits
• Research and ask questions for anything you don’t know
• Have a strong bedrock of ethics and never succumb to fraud
• Never take the easy way out
• Pay your taxes to the kingdom for the betterment of all

Her method flourished and she’s the reason why Bookbenders are so renowned in Wingnut today. Back in those bygone days, accounting was considered as fundamental as air, water, fire and earth. Hence, the word ‘Bookbender’ was born because our minds intuitively embraced the ideas of debits and credits. The two sides must be equal. We’re not bending the truth at all, in fact we are tasked with exposing it. Bit of a misnomer in the modern day but it’s our job to educate people about it.”

Drabelia realized the woman was telling the truth. Valinor’s descendants had brought fraudulent bookbenders to the lands and were spreading evil methods of accounting and taxation. It appears that Hollowland had fallen victim to this scheme and was polluting all the business owners there.

Swift as the rising sun, Drabelia snapped her fingers and the ink vanished from the pitted eyes of the woman and her doorman. They blinked up at Drabelia stupidly, fear replacing the greed that was so evident before. Slowly, Drabelia picked up the remote from the woman’s feet and jabbed the red stop button. All of the machines stopped whirring and the horrid images disappeared from the screens. They all turned a serene gray. The customers glued to them blinked their eyes several times and looked around, confused as to where they were. The king shuffled over to Drabelia, asking “Excuse me, ma'am, but where am I?”

Drabelia bowed deeply and then placed her hand over the King’s heart. His blue eyes seemed to glimmer with fresh life and he stood up a little taller, nobility slowly returning to his kind face.

“You’re in a place that no longer exists,” murmured Drabelia.

Her fingers snapped again and all physical matter disappeared.

It felt like an eternity had passed to the residents of Wingnut. Suddenly, they found themselves in the town square, huddled together in front of a huge bonfire. Christmas lights were twinkling on the streetlights and a woman’s laughter could be heard above the flames. Her voice was like tinkling bells and the villagers turned around, feeling a sense of warmth and familiarity. It was Drabelia! In one hand, she held a magnificent ledgerbook and in the other, she was holding a single snowflake. Seeing the people staring at her, she walked into the firelight and transformed into the most beautiful, luminous creature they had ever seen.

“My dear friends of Wingnut, the nightmare is over. The company which caused you dread for so long has been dismantled. The owners, once disgraced but now risen from the ashes, will be staying at my home while I train them on the art of ethical bookbending.”

She leaned down and the crowd suddenly realized there was an enormous pile of red leather-bound books all around her. The crimson of the books contrasted starkly with her white gown, which was shimmering like the North Star. She began handing them out to the crowd with intention, staring into the faces of the villagers and then picking a unique book from the stack.

“Bookbending isn’t simply about recording numbers and burying yourself in paper. It records the story of your life, your livelihood and your impact on the community. Read your books and remember the greatness you accomplished with your businesses. Don’t forget your purpose and the value you brought into the world.”

She paused in front of a man with a ruddy face. “Don’t forget the amazing beer you created for your fellow townsfolk.”

She moved on to a woman with thin hair and ruby lips. “Don’t forget how you made everyone smile with your delicious pastries.”

And finally, she handed a book, smaller than the rest, to a little girl with a checkered red dress on. “And don’t forget how your lemonade stand saved everyone from thirst during the summer.”

After distributing all the ledgers, Drabelia gave a wave of her hand and a great feast appeared in the square. Roast chickens, honey-glazed hams, fountains of gravy and sweet potatoes were on all the tables. Beer was flowing and laughter was once again heard in the small tavern. The homes lining the main street were ablaze with a happy glow and even the family business signs were lit again. Some people were singing Christmas carols, others were reading their ledger books with glee and still others were staring into the fire, relief written all over their faces. The dark days were over. They were free to work for themselves again.

Drabelia snuck away from the merriment, feeling satisfied at last. But ahead of her, a long and arduous journey to Hollowland awaited. She would have to face her most dangerous foe yet. But she was strong and determined, the morals of bookbending hardening her resolve. She took one last, loving look at the people of Wingnut and smiled. Her work was done, for today at least.