Christmas Scary Stories Vol. 1 - Five Ghoul-Tide Horrors To Chill You!

Compilation transcript, edited from an automatic transcription. Minor transcription errors may remain; not checked word for word against the audio. Advertising and the separate opening and closing promotions omitted. Original story introductions and transitions may be retained.

Biting Cold By Jeff Carpenter Pain hit him like a spear in the gut. He was hungry, but he knew that thing out there was too. And he knew its kind never left wounded prey until they could pick the bones clean. He was sheltered, safe for now, or so he hoped, dug into his snow cave. He shifted his body, bumping up against the cold walls. He couldn't see his right arm, and maybe that was for the best.

The solidity of the snow walls comforted him, but it was a frozen comfort. A chilled comfort for his cold, tired bones. A sound carried over the crisp air. His ears pricked up, chattering. An incessant clacking that assaulted his ears. It was his own noise. With every intake of breath, he could feel the sharp, cold shoot through his teeth. His teeth chattered. But he could not feel them. He longed for another familiar sound.

A sound that would take him home. In his breast pocket was a cell phone with very low battery charge. He was far out of range of any known cell tower, but he still had some voice messages saved that he'd listened to before the blizzard hit. One from his father at the hunting lodge. Christmas was approaching, and his father had exhorted him to check the trap lines one more time before the big snow hit hard and stranded them.

He was sure his father had attempted a search for him, but the guests had gone home for the holidays, and the wheelchair would have been useless, much beyond the packed-down paths around the cabin in the snow. Another message from his little girl back in the city, complaining about her new braces and how they hurt her teeth and made her lips bleed when she practiced her carols for the choir. She would be caroling out there tonight, braving the cold in her sore gums to spread her joy to the world around her.

She'd left him one last message, but he would leave that one unheard until he really needed to hear it. He would survive. For her. He exhaled and felt the steamy breath in front of his face. He tried to breathe warmth into his fingers on his left hand, but they were well past numb now. Out there was the only hope for life. But death lurked there in the shadows. If he did nothing, if he curled up in his icy tomb and let sleep overtake him, the beast would have him still.

It would dig in and dig him out, scavenge his cold, tired bones like a grave robber. The beast's teeth would crunch and crush the bones and frozen flesh of his rigid corpse. Just as easily as if he had offered himself to it. It would swallow him in huge, choking gulps. And then he would be gone. And it would be night forever. He closed his eyes, tight enough to shut out the images in his brain.

The creature invading the hole with its snout, slavering to get at the bloody, sweating slab of meat still living inside. If only he could last through the night. Then maybe. One more night. It was just the last night that it all had happened. The avalanche had thrown a tree on top of him. Brought a whole damn tree down on top of him. It must have been the rifle shot that set it off.

It must have been. From behind him, the rumble came out of nowhere. The tree had torn his arm from his shoulder and left it gashed and bleeding. When he came to with a violent tug on his arm socket, the beast's beady red eyes dared him to wrench his arm back into place. He let the animal take his prize. It was no good to him anymore anyway. But now, the beast knew he was weakened and had limited mobility, had limited range, had tasted mortality, and was handicapped.

It would come again and again to test its prey's strength and its ebbing will to survive. If he could only make it to the tree. The upturned tree. Its branches ready-made kindling. The waterproof matches in his pocket were still good, he hoped. Fire. A glorious fire could be kindled, bringing warmth to this long night. Warming his belly. Slacking his thirst. Thawing his fingers. The beast would feed him its long, dense fur.

The oil in its hairs would keep the frost off of him. His boot would hold enough snow to melt into drinking water. His left hand clenched into a fist. It needed to hold something. Something solid. His bolt-action Remington had been broken and buried by the tree's weight. No weapon. Still. The branches could make a spear, but he didn't have a knife to sharpen it. Teeth. He had teeth. As did the beast, of course.

And he would pit his molars, canines, incisors, and his dizzy brain against the animals. He had 32. 31 after that drunken brawl. Molars for grinding, incisors for biting and cutting. Canines. Canines. His eye teeth. For tearing and slipping. He would chew the bark and spit it out. He would chew the fleshy tip of his branch into a wicked sharp point of death-dealing. Plunge it into the gut of the ravenous animal, finally killing its hunger.

He had no fingers. Not that he could feel any way. He could pull himself to the tree, but that could loosen the shirt of his makeshift tourniquet and open the flow of blood again. He can feel himself succumbing. To the cold. To his leaking blood. To the dark night all around. It was now or never. His eyelids flutter. To sleep. Or... He moves. He pushes out the hole. Crawling at first. Then limping.

Stooping. Gradually more erect. From animal to man. A momentary recurrence of evolutionary strides. He can do it. He is doing it. His numb fingers find the tree. With a grunt, he feebly snaps off twigs. He clutches them clumsily in his single arm. They slip. And fall out. He scoops them up again. He collects and breaks off branches of various sizes from the falling tree. Smaller for kindling. Larger for the main fuel of the fire.

He stacks them in a rickety pyramid. His hand, curled like a useless claw, clutches the matchbox to his chest. He pulls out one match with his teeth. His lips tremble as he bends his head to the matchbox striking surface. The match flares up and burns his lips. It falls to the snow and fizzles. He tries again and manages to catch it aflame. He ignites the pyramid stack of wood. With the warmth comes the feeling back into his fingers.

He bites into the fleshy wood, his lips curling at the bitter taste of bark. He grinds away at the wood, periodically spitting out the pulpy ball of mulch. He wipes the wood juice running down his chin with the back of his hand. The hot saliva runs cold and icy down his chin, almost freezing solid before running down his neck collar. He breaks a tooth and whimpers in pain. Then he stops. He sees a movement.

Motion at the edge of the perimeter of the circle of firelight. His eyes dart to the right, scanning the flickering shadows and darkness beyond. He holds the rim of the boot collar to his lips, awaiting the refreshing slake of liquid to quench his thirst. The smell hits him first. The foul, pungent odor. Then the crushing weight of the beast slams into his chest, bowling him over. His arms flail to fight for balance, but he's gone.

And so is his boot, flung into the fire. Splashing water, it sizzles and steams. And then the wolverine growls and makes his slow advance. Halting. Leaping. The beast leaps on him, snarling, slavering, hot, spit and wet saliva on his face. He turns his head, avoiding its snapping teeth. The hot breath on his face, it pushes on top of him for better advantage. It will have him soon. He can feel himself losing the battle.

His eyelids flutter. To sleep? Or... He bites into the exposed neck of the beast through wet fur. The beast jerks and rears back, giving him enough room to reach his stride and grab the spear. He plunges the spear deep into the belly of the beast. It howls in agony and its tongue lolls in its mouth, tasting mortality. The wolverine slumps to the ground, its fur bathed in the orange glow of the fire.

He raises his stick in victory. He circles the body of the wolverine, watching it closely. The steam escaping from the gash in its belly as it slowly cools to the outside temperature. Snap! Teeth bite into his ankle. The shinbone of his leg fractures. The unrelenting metal jaws of one of his steel traps enclose his lower leg. He hits the ground hard. He stares at the wolverine's missing forelimb. The nub where it had bitten it off to escape.

And then, his own missing arm. The wolverine's eyes now closed. Its soft lashes whiting over the fresh snowflakes. His lashes, too, grow heavy with white flakes. The flickering flames of the fire die to embers. His eyelids flutter. He takes the cell phone out of his breast pocket. One last unheard message. He clicks it. It is his daughter. Singing softly. He closes his eyes and listens to the carol on repeat until the battery dies.

A thrill of hope. The weary world rejoices. For yonder breaks. A new and glorious morn. Fall on your knees. Oh, hear the angels' voices. Oh, night divine. A thought passes through his frozen mind. To sleep. Or. Or. Or. Or. Or. Well, that story will certainly get the blood pumping to the extremities. But it may not really help you in the long run. Now, if you're like me, you like to put on your favorite robe, snuggle up with your dogs, and stare at the Christmas tree, thinking of all those great memories over the years.

But, not every Christmas is quite so perfect as our nostalgia lets us believe. Everyone wants to be home for Christmas. It's a traditional goal. But, sometimes, things get in the way. Traveling expenses. Work obligations. I guess you could say, life gets in the way. But, in this case, death gets in the way. So, enjoy this one. It's called, I'll Be Home for Christmas. After this quick word from our sponsors. I'll Be Home for Christmas by Shane Migliavacca.

A weekly spooky original. It's never gonna stop, Cat Walker said to herself. Watching as never-ending white fell outside. The dying embers of the day cast a soft glow that lit the snow-covered landscape in a blood-red hue. The wind howled, making the old walls of the house creak and strain. Cat was alone in the parlor. The gathering place for most of the social activity at Black Oaks. A tall Christmas tree sat in the room's center.

Its lights blinking on and off. The smell of cinnamon delighted Cat's senses. Cinnamon cookie ornaments hung from the tree branches. Crafted in various Christmas-related forms. Santa, Frosty, Snowflakes, and Christmas trees. All lovingly made by Black Oaks resident cook, Mallory Horst. A fire crackled in the fireplace and the scent of burning wood hung in the air. The sound of whiskey flowing over ice pulled Cat from her thoughts. She watched fellow student Georgina Harris enter, reflected in the glass of the window.

Georgina returned her metal flask to the folds of her expensive robe before crashing to the couch. The chic brunette lounged on the couch, her sleek legs visible at the robe's part. Taking a sip of whiskey, she lit a cigarette. The weather outside is indeed frightful, little kitten. Cat turned, angry at the interruption. She spun around so fast her long raven black hair fell across her eyes, stinging them. What are you doing?

Cat blurted out, her anger getting the better of her. Working towards a career in alcoholism and nicotine addiction? Georgina smirked, raising her glass in a toast. Just like dear old mom. You know the rules, Cat said. If Miss Keen sees you, her voice lowered as if saying the woman's name would summon the headmistress out of thin air. Don't worry about it, Georgina took a puff off her cigarette. It's not your ass on the line if I'm caught, kitten.

Fine, Cat gave up. Why did she care if the bitch got in trouble anyway? And my name is Cat. I hate it when you call me kitten. Girls like Georgina were the reason Cat was at Black Oaks. She'd gotten in her fair share of fights with girls that thought they were better than her. Thought they could tell Cat her place. Expulsion for Cat soon followed nearly every time. A slight red-haired girl with a fox-like face stood framed in the doorway.

Her freckled brow wrinkled in concern. She was wearing a snug, if preposterous, sweater. Robots danced around a Christmas tree on its front and a pair of pale blue jeans. There you guys are, Sue McCoy said, sounding relieved. Miss Keen wanted to know if you guys wanted to exchange Christmas presents now or in the morning. Cat looked down at the presents, neatly arranged under the tree. She wondered how the tree looked at home.

Her mom would have it all decked out with all the usual ornaments. This would be the first year Cat wouldn't be there to help her decorate it. She was stuck here at Black Oaks Boarding School, mainly for the simple fact that her parents couldn't afford to come and get her, even if the weather did permit. Not that she was the only one stuck here for Christmas break. Georgina's mom and her new girlfriend were off to Barcelona for the holiday.

Sue was still here because she preferred it to her home life. Why, Cat really wasn't sure, nor did she want to pry. The other two students still here, Lois Kincaid and Allison Gordy, were both stuck due to the stubborn onslaught of the freak blizzard assaulting half of the country. Besides the remaining five girls, there was Miss Keen and Mallory still at the school. Georgina kicked one of the presents under the tree with an outstretched leg.

I say we get this shit over with. Sue turned to Cat. Yeah, why not? Cat answered. A half hour later, wrapping paper littered the parlor's royal blue carpet. The girls had done a secret Santa, ensuring that each girl got a gift and they didn't have to spend a lot of money getting multiple presents. Cat sat with her knees drawn up on the floor, clutching her gift in her arms. A simple black t-shirt with I'm Against It written on its front in a spray paint font.

Whoever had drawn Cat's name, they certainly knew her tastes. Sitting next to her was Mallory. The cook was only a few years older than her and lived in town with her mother, who had held the position previously until entering her back. Now her daughter supported her. Cat had bonded with her. Both feeling very much the outsider at Black Oaks. Mallory had a crisp, no-bullshit way of looking at things and never sat around feeling sorry for herself or whining about the shit life had handed her.

It was something Cat aspired to do herself. Mallory's secret Santa bought her a simple pendant necklace. She wore it proudly around her neck, turning to smile at Cat as they all laughed at one of Miss Keen's stories. Cat drifted in and out of the story the woman was telling. Her ears picked up bits and pieces of the news playing on the TV behind them. The storm of the century. Flights canceled. Power outages.

Escaped mental patients pile up on the thruway. The girls all laughed again and Cat joined in instinctively. Her thoughts turned back towards home. Were Mom and Dad celebrating tonight? Was Mom making her annual Christmas lasagna tomorrow? She hoped her parents were safe and happy. What's on your mind? Cat turned to see Mallory, looking at her. Nothing. Just Christmas at home, Cat answered. Miss your folks? Yeah, we, um, we don't always get along, but this time of year, though, all the shit of the year disappears, Cat smiled, thinking about the warm feeling she got sitting around the tree on Christmas morning.

How about you? Hope I can get back into town tomorrow. Spend the day with Mom. Hold hands, you lovebirds, Georgina mocked. The heavy scent of whiskey hung in the air as she spoke. Mallory made a face. God, you're drunk, Georgina laughed. Fuck yeah, townie. Cat noticed a repeated thumping sound under the din of the girls' laughter in the TV. It grew louder and more ferocious as seconds ticked by. Until finally... Someone's here, Cat said, springing up from the floor.

All eyes turned toward her. They stared as if she was in a one-woman play written by a psychotic. At the door, Cat added, already headed to the foyer. Cat fumbled with the door lock as the knocking outside intensified. Miss Keen and the girls gathered behind her. I told you, there's somebody at the door. Cat felt vindicated as the knocking continued. Maybe you shouldn't open that door, Sue spoke up. It could be a...

You know, a... Crazy person. It might be a rapist, Lois said. Or a holy roller, Georgina added. We'll be buried in watchtowers. From the other side of the door, a man spoke. Please, I know you're in there. I need help. Cat looked at Miss Keen for guidance. The headmistress nodded her approval. Without hesitation, Cat unlocked the door. Wind and snow assaulted her immediately. A man, looking half dead, stood at the center of the maelstrom.

His hair whipped about as if alive, and his eyes were wide with panic. The man stumbled into the house, helped along by Cat and Miss Keen. Sue struggled to shut the door behind them, the snow and wind fighting her. Mallory stepped in and helped her close the door. Well, this is something, Georgina said, observing the scene before her. They took the stranger into the dining room. A large wood table sat at room's center.

The room, much like the living room, had been decorated for the holiday. Lights and garland ran along the walls, and the table was covered by a tablecloth and placemats, depicting Santa and his reindeer on Christmas night. Allison pulled out one of the chairs for the disheveled man. Get him a blanket and some coffee, Miss Keen instructed Allison and Lois, sending the two girls racing off in opposite directions. I told them I'll be home for Christmas, the man said through chapped lips.

He looked up into Cat's eyes. My wife and son, they're waiting for me. Miss Keen took the blanket from a returning Allison and draped it over the man's shoulders. Were you in an accident? The man hugged the blanket to himself before nodding. Our bus went off the road. The snow made it hard to see. Lois came back with a steaming cup of coffee. The man gladly took the mug, holding it in his hands for the warmth it radiated.

Where about did you crash? Miss Keen asked. How many people were on the bus besides you? I don't know where. The storm made it hard to see any landmarks. The man took a sip of coffee. Ten. I think there was maybe ten on the bus. He pondered this for a moment before continuing. I went for help and I got lost. He laughed grimly. I was in the army. Some tracker I turned out to be.

I used to go through the jungle like nothing. We should call the police, Lois said. And tell them what, Georgina pointed out. We don't know where this guy crashed. Where are we going to send them? Mallory stepped forward. She's right. We should get you to a hospital, Miss Keen said, turning towards the man. I'll call for an ambulance. The headmistress left. There were only two working phones at Black Oaks. One in Miss Keen's office and the other in the rec room.

The girls weren't allowed to have cell phones as they were felt to be too much of a distraction from their studies. The same went for the internet. The girls were allowed laptops for assignments, but couldn't even get those online. After a few minutes, a stone-faced Miss Keen returned. The phone is out, she informed the girls, fighting to conceal any troubling emotion that might slip out. It must be the blizzard. I'm so hungry, the man groaned, his voice full of pain and regret.

I'm starving. Mallory went to the kitchen to get the man some food, while Kat and the others stayed with him in the dining room. Under the circumstances, Miss Keen addressed the group, I think it best I drove into town with our guest. We can get him help and get a search started for that bus. There was some debate over the idea before the headmistress's authority won out over the girls' doubts. Miss Keen agreed to take Lois and Allison with her and the man into town.

The stranger greedily devoured the tuna fish sandwich Mallory brought him as Miss Keen and the two girls geared up for their trip. Kat donated one of her trench coats for the man to wear out into the bitter cold. The remaining girls watched as the four headed towards the garage, the four swallowed up by the blizzard. Kat took one last look outside before closing and locking the door. Georgina sauntered off back to the parlor.

Back to our regularly scheduled program, she quipped. Anxious, Kat glanced out the window. It had been fifteen minutes. Shouldn't she have seen something from the garage by now? A light from the car through the billowing snow? Just something to confirm they'd left? I don't like this, she muttered. Where are they? It's gonna take time in this weather, Sue answered. Pulling on her jacket and hat, she unlocked the door. I'm gonna go check on them, just to make sure.

Sue thought about it. Can't hurt. I'll go with. We'll hold down the fort, Georgina said, lighting up a cigarette. As soon as Sue was ready, the two girls headed outside. Mallory stood inside the doorframe. Hurry back. I'll have some hot chocolate waiting. Don't leave me alone with that boozy bitch for too long. Kat laughed. Don't worry. We won't. I heard that, Georgina hollered from the parlor. Don't care! Mallory shot back, slamming the door shut.

The snow was ankle deep as the girls made their way down the walk, holding gloved hands as snow and bitter cold wind raged around them. Cold snow slipped down into Kat's boots. She felt her nose start to run as her cheeks reddened. Halfway to the garage, she was already regretting coming out here. Why couldn't the fucking garage be connected to the damn house? She moaned. Sue made a face. Kat had forgot the girls' disdain for colorful language.

With the garage in sight, the pair were surprised to see the garage door still closed. Car headlights visible from within the slats. Entering, the girls found Miss Keen's van sitting there. Headlights on. Doors closed. Melting snow footprints led to the van. But none led away. There seemed to be something smeared on the interior windows, making it hard to see inside. The faint sound of music came from within the vehicle. Is that Buddy Holly?

She asked. It was, indeed. As Buddy sang about a love that never fades away, Kat touched the handle of the driver's side door. She glanced at Sue, who nodded in approval. Kat turned the handle, slowly opening the door. Miss Keen, is everything all right? Wait. In response, something fell from the van with a moist thud, rolling to a stop next to Sue's feet, causing her to scream. Before Kat could turn to see what was wrong, her eyes were caught by the van's interior, which was covered in splashes of dripping crimson.

Human limbs, chunks of flesh, and what appeared to be intestines littered the front seats. The next thing Kat knew, what she'd had for dinner now covered her boots and part of the floor. Oh, God! Kat groaned. Sue had stopped screaming and was now doing an impromptu impression of a Monty Python routine. It's... It's... It's... Miss Keen's head lay at Sue's feet. The dead headmistress's eyes were wide, with terror. I'm starving. The stranger's voice came from somewhere in the shadows of the garage.

I couldn't help it. Kat took Sue's hand, ready to drag the girl out of there if need be. Backing towards the side door they entered by, they hadn't gotten more than a few steps, when something slithered out from under the van. The thing grabbed Sue by the leg and wrenched the startled girl off her feet, which caused Kat to lose her footing as well. Desperately, Kat scrambled to grab the screaming girl's outstretched hand.

The thing that had hold of Sue was faster, dragging the red-haired girl into the darkness under the van, screaming once more filled the air, before being suddenly cut off. Gripped by terror, Kat half-crawled, half-ran for the door. Stumbling out into the snow, Kat gasped for breath as the wind hammered her. Heart pounding, she retraced her footprints in the snowdrifts. She tried to block what she saw in the van from her head, tried not to think about what must be happening to Sue back there in the garage.

It had happened so fast. Could she have possibly saved her? Back at the main house, Kat found the front door locked. Pounding on it, she waited, prayed for someone to open it. Suddenly overtaken with the feeling that someone was behind her, Kat spun around. In the distance, through the snow, she saw them standing there at the end of the driveway. Three figures. Then she saw two more, standing in a drift on the lawn.

Their features, obscured by snow and distance. She wanted to call out to them for help, but something about them felt wrong. Filling her head with dread. She returned to pounding the door frantically. The door opened. Kat pushed past a slightly aggravated Georgina, nearly falling to her knees, panic-stricken and out of breath. Tears and snot were frozen to her face. What the hell? Georgina said. Who's that out there? She poked her head out the door.

Who are those people? Close the door! Kat gasped, warm air burning her lungs. Lock it! Georgina slammed the door shut, clicking the deadbolt in place as Stevie Nicks belted out Silent Night from the parlor's TV. Kat stood, feeling her knees shake. Looking down at her shirt, she noticed chunks of vomit. Pulling off her coat and shirt, Kat walked into the parlor. Georgina followed her. What the fuck is going on? Where's the sidekick?

Kat pulled on her I'm against it t-shirt. She took a deep breath, not wanting to say the words. She's dead. Georgina laughed. What? Are you shitting me? No. Kat's eyes scammed the room. Where's Mallory? In the kitchen, washing dishes or some shit. Sue's dead? What the fuck? Kat took off for the kitchen, Georgina storming after her, profanity flowing freely from her mouth. They found Mallory in the kitchen, standing uneasily next to the stranger, seated at the counter, eating a sandwich.

Your friend made me a nice sandwich. He took a bite from it, blood running down his chin. As he chewed, pieces of fleshy meat stuck to the corners of his mouth. That's disgusting, Georgina gasped. Mallory, get away from him, Kat reached out towards the young cook. A large kitchen knife gleamed near Mallory's side, held in the stranger's free hand. I think she's fine right here, the man smiled bloodily. Oh, there's a hair in my mouth.

He pulled a red hair from between his teeth. Who the fuck are you? Georgina asked, horrified and angry. Just a man, on his way home from a pointless war in the jungle, sick of being called Baby Killer. Just wanted to get home to my wife and boy for Christmas. The man sighed, his eyes focusing on something long gone. And then that goddamn blizzard hit. The old drunk behind the wheel of the bus drove us into a ditch on some backwoods road.

I went for help with one of the passengers and we got lost in the storm. A chill ran down Kat's spine as the man spoke. I don't know how long we were out there. I got so hungry. And the other man was falling behind. In the bush, you had to do anything it took to survive. He was holding me back and I needed food, so the man licked his blood-caked lips and laughed.

And then the next day, I found myself back at the fucking bus. Those ungrateful shits criticizing me for getting lost. Accusing me after everything I did. Everything I went through. It was too much. And a man's gotta eat. Kat felt sick to her stomach. She willed herself not to throw up for a second time. That night, it came to me. Standing there at the edge of the trees, it called to me.

Wendigo. Demon spirit. My burden, my curse. The hunger inside me. That's where it lives. Keeping me alive. To feed it. Georgina scoffed. That's a pretty fucked up story, buddy. What are you smoking and can I get some? A loud knock came from the door. They're here, the man said as he stood. I hate to eat and run, but their company I try not to keep. Who are those people out there? Georgina asked.

I really must be going. I fucked around here too long. The stranger held the tip of the knife to Mallory's throat. I was looking forward to sampling all of this young flesh. Tastes so much better than that old hag in the car. He backed towards the rear door that connected the kitchen to the courtyard behind the main house. Another knock came from the front door. Shit. I don't think I have time to even slaughter you bitches properly.

I'll have to be quick. Cat scanned the kitchen quickly. The stranger could kill Mallory before she got to a knife. There had to be something else. A third knock came from the front door. With his free hand, the stranger yanked Mallory's head back by her long blonde hair exposing her neck. Quick and easy, babe, the stranger grinned. The whine of a kettle sliced through the tension of the kitchen, causing the man to look up from his prey just in time to see Cat snatch it from the stove.

Have a little hot chocolate, Cat screamed as the scolding water hit the man, dead center in the face. He let go of Mallory and the knife as he held his face, screaming in pain. Mallory screamed herself as some of the water had hit her as well. Cat hurled the now-empty kettle at the wounded stranger. Georgina, for her part, pulled the startled Mallory to her feet. Let's get the fuck out of here, Georgina shouted.

The girls started towards the door, but the man blocked their escape route, holding his ragged face with one hand and a knife in the other. You cunts aren't going anywhere. The trio of girls turned and ran out the kitchen down the hallway towards the front door. Out there? Georgina stopped them. What choice do we have? Cat said. Out one of the windows, Mallory answered. The stranger stood in the hallway, having replaced the knife with a meat cleaver.

You ain't going anywhere. I could have ran, but you three really pissed me off. The knocking on the door turned into a loud banging. The man charged them with the cleaver, forcing the girls to run into the parlor, slicing at them as they went. Georgina lunged towards the fireplace, grabbing a poker. Spinning around, she confronted the stranger, swinging the poker at him. It collided with the stranger's head, with a sickening thud.

Never mess with a chick from the Upper East Side, asshole! Georgina followed up with a couple of hard swings, but her cockiness was her downfall as the stranger caught the poker. Yanking it from her grip, he kicked her in the gut, doubling Georgina over in pain. Throwing the poker aside, the stranger hoisted the cleaver, ready to strike down on the stunned girl. Cat ran towards the man, howling like a banshee, attempting to tackle him.

She grabbed the man's hand, holding the cleaver. The two struggled, but the man was stronger and a trained fighter. Using Cat's weight and momentum against her, he sent her sailing into the Christmas tree with a loud crash. Both the girls and the tree went down in an explosion of tinsel and ornaments. From the foyer came a sound of straining wood as the pounding assault continued on the front door. Cat now caught up in the tinsel and lights of the tree, struggled to free herself.

The man stalked towards her, a desperate, evil smile on his burned lips. She watched helpless, unable to defend herself. A strand of lights dropped over his head, wrapping around his neck. Standing behind him, Mallory pulled it tight, choking him, holding tight. The young cook pulled him away from Cat. The pair stumbled towards the fire. The man clumsily taking wild swings with the cleaver, trying to hit Mallory behind him. Taking a handful of the man's unkempt hair with one hand and holding the strand tight with the other, Mallory rammed the man's head into the mantle repeatedly until the bloodied and battered man pushed away from her.

Yanking the strand from his neck, he hurled it to the ground. Finally free of the Christmas tree, Cat was on her feet, picking up the discarded fire poker. She attacked the stranger, screaming as she beat him. Georgina picked up a second poker and swung primally as well, forcing the man to fall to his knees. The girls stopped when the front door shattered. The three girls turned as something. shambled into the house.

Standing, framed in the parlor door, stood a decayed corpse, dressed in a tattered, age-ravaged bus driver's uniform. Standing behind it were similarly decayed corpses. The three girls stood tall and readied themselves for a new fight. To their surprise, the dead ignored the three. The walking corpses surrounded the man, who now knelt, laughing hysterically. Behind him, the discarded strand had partially fallen into the fireplace, burning like a fuse. It had lit the carpet up.

The fire was quickly spreading. Come and get it, you bastards! The man laughed as the dead descended on him, ripping at his flesh. Let's get the fuck out of here, Kat said as she watched the man being ripped apart. The three girls hurried out of the house as the fire and the dead claimed it. They stood on the lawn for several minutes, watching the house burn, holding their jackets tight in the bitter cold.

So now what? Georgina asked. Walk to town? Kat said. Mallory shook her head. We should wait out the fire and the storm in one of the staff buildings. They're far enough away not to catch fire. We should be warm there. Sounds like a plan, Georgina said. Kat looked at her two friends. Merry Christmas, guys. Bah humbug, Georgina laughed. The three girls trudged through the snow. Kat turned to take a last look at the burning building before continuing on.

Ah, so you're still with us, huh? Well, we're not even halfway through the fear we have to bring you. Let the snow fall and look beautiful. That's what snow does. It looks beautiful. But you know what else snow does? Snow dampens sound. Snow makes your screams travel a shorter distance. Snow makes roads worthless. makes an idyllic afternoon turn into being trapped in a frigid hell. Of course, it wouldn't be Christmas at Weekly Spooky without a trip to Strickfield.

And that's where we're headed right now to give you a taste of some Christmas rage. Right after these words from our sponsors. Christmas Rage by Rob Fields. December 23rd. Evening. Strickfield Town Center Mall only seemed to be a hopping place around the holidays. The vacancies left during the usual ten months out of the year were mostly filled by seasonal stores. There was even a Santa Claus house in the mall's center court.

Families would line up with their children, many of whom had Christmas lists to give to Santa. But on this day, things were about to take a macabre turn. Santa Claus had just taken his seat on his throne. Templeton Mirren, the owner of the mall, and his family were right there in front of him. Santa just sat there and looked right at them. Templeton appeared to be patient. When Santa's silence got to be too much, Templeton leaned in and whispered loudly, If you don't get your act together, Stanley, you'll be enjoying this Christmas on your fucking welfare check.

Stanley Monroe was always tapped to play Santa Claus from Black Friday until Christmas Eve at the Strickfield Town Center Mall. But as Santa slowly stood up and glared at Templeton Mirren and his family, he seemed to have a foreboding presence. Then, Santa opened the door to his house and received several screams when the slain, bloody body of Stanley Monroe just fell out onto the porch. The family scattered in different directions. Santa took his time as he reached inside the house and pulled out the same bloody axe that he had used on Stanley earlier.

Then, he marched toward Templeton Mirren, raising his lethal weapon. Templeton Mirren turned and yanked a nearby father right in front of the Santa. The father never uttered a peep as Santa buried the blade right in his head. The other bystanders were too frightened to see what Templeton Mirren had done. They never saw him or his wicked wife grab their children and leave. From there, Santa pulled the axe out of the father's head and buried it into another bystander.

As it came upon a midnight clear, slowly began to play over the mall speakers. Christmas Eve morning. I awaken in a different room and remember that I'm here at Franklin Sloan's house. Franklin invited me to come home with him for Christmas. Franklin and I have been seeing each other since late August. In fact, he's been my only companion this semester. After I take a shower and get dressed, I hear arguing downstairs.

I make my way down and stop short when I hear that I'm the topic of discussion. Actually, it's more like Franklin's parents are giving him a hard time about me. The more I listen, the more I hear his father, Joseph, and his stepmother, Delphine, just discouraging him. His dad tells him there's no way that a big-titted putana like me would ever care for him. They tell him that I'm just using him for my own selfish ends.

Franklin argues back and tells them that I'm nothing like that. He tells them we've been seeing each other since the beginning of the fall semester. He asks them what I could possibly be using him for. Here's the irony. I am using Franklin, but not for the reasons his parents are implying. They think I'm with him for money, or that I'm waiting to humiliate him. I'm fully aware that people look at Franklin and decide that he's the biggest nerd there is.

Do you have any idea how many times I've heard people whisper that to each other when they think I'm not listening? I even hear those same people wondering how someone like me would even be with Franklin. Delphine tells Franklin that I'm way too beautiful for him. She even tells Franklin that I would never have sex with him, that people like me belong with fraternity boys. Yes, I certainly could have had my pick of a fraternity boy or even a jock.

The problem with those types of guys is that they would only want to have sex with me just for a short time. They would not want to commit to me. No, I need much more than they're willing to give. For those of you who haven't been following me since the beginning, from the time I came into the world, I have never felt so much as a single emotion. Perhaps my being emotionless is why I'm a serial killer.

Your society has labeled me the angel of death because I destroy those who prey on innocent people. I suppose the closest thing to emotion that I feel is my ever-insistent bloodlust, which pushes me onward to claim my victims. In fact, I'm feeling the urgent need to kill right now. I make my way to the dining room. The family doesn't hear me come in until I'm right there, right when Franklin yells at Delphine, that's your problem.

You always think everybody's out to get me. Well, rage isn't like that at all. Franklin becomes quiet when he realizes I'm here. The family is just looking at me now. Perhaps I should just go, I say. Clearly, I'm not wanted or welcome here. I'll just get my things and go back to my dorm. Delphine looks sternly at me. You heard everything? I nod once. I did. And you're wrong about me. I fold my arms in front of me.

Please enlighten me. What do I hope to gain by using Franklin? Delphine takes a deep breath. Do you see yourself, Reagan? Do you see Franklin? Do you see how completely mismatched the two of you are? You can have any man you want. Why would you settle for Franklin? While I myself don't have emotions, I have come to understand a great deal about how emotions can move people, both positively and negatively. Watching enough television and being around mama long enough will do that for someone like me.

So let me get this straight. Just because I'm a beautiful girl and Franklin's a nerd, I would not want to be with someone like him? Then, why would I date Franklin? Why would I agree to come home with him for Christmas? Delphine glares at me now. Well, I don't know. Why don't you tell us? I agreed to come here with Franklin because he asked me to, I reply. I wasn't going home for Christmas and Franklin didn't want me to be alone.

I'm thinking he invited me out of the kindness of his heart. That's why I choose to be with Franklin. He's kind to me. He's never once tried to take advantage of me. I enjoy his company. I unfold and lower my arms. I can't believe that you and your husband would cut Franklin down like this. Especially you, a church minister. Delphine took over being the minister of Strickfield Community Church after the scandal with Minister Darren Harlow years ago.

Yes, it's the usual type of scandal you read about with children. After Harlow was removed, Delphine became the new minister. She had to work very hard to keep the church going, but she managed to do it. I was a freshman in high school when this happened, by the way. Delphine's been quite strict on Franklin ever since, according to what he's told me about her and from what I've just witnessed. I put a comforting hand on Franklin's shoulder.

Are you alright? Franklin shakes his head. Can we just leave, Rage? Yes, yes we can, I reply. Go pack a few things and we can have Christmas at my dorm. Franklin leaves the dining room, his parents only glare at me before I turn and head back up to the guest room to pack my things. You're thinking that I want to kill them both, right? Nope, they're ah yes, now we're getting to what I want to tell you.

I currently have an even greater need to satisfy, even more than my need to kill. Now, while I don't feel anything emotional, I do feel things that are physical. I know when I need to eat, drink, sleep, clean my body, seek comfort. I did say that I'm looking to use Franklin. As of late, I'm feeling the need to have sex. I was able to get by for many years without having to fulfill this basic need.

Now, my sex drive is becoming as insistent as my blood lust. It's because of this that I've come to realize that I need a mate, a constant companion. I need someone who can be good company for me and satisfy my sexual desires when the need arises. In turn, I would be just as responsive to my mate. Would you call me a primal girl in spite of my highly developed brain? perhaps you would be right.

Franklin Sloan is one of the few young men at Strickfield University who's taken an interest in me. Over time, he's shown me that he is both a suitable companion and an intellectual peer. I really don't care that Franklin is a skinny nerd who talks about chess or contemporary movies. I don't even care that the rest of you in the female population are repulsed by him. Unlike you, I don't have it in me to be repulsed by him.

On the other hand, I don't even have it in me to be able to love him. Regardless, Franklin has proven himself to be a suitable companion for me, and my desire is for him to be my mate. Franklin comes and gets me. You ready, Rage? Yes, we can go. We head downstairs to the front door. Before we leave, Franklin turns to his parents. I really thought we were going to have a normal family Christmas this time, even with my bringing Rage, but I can see now that's never going to happen.

Come on, Rage, let's go. Once more, Franklin's parents exchange looks. Then I turn and leave with Franklin. Franklin is settled in my dorm room. I didn't have a roommate during the fall semester. The only reason I'm allowed to stay over the holiday break is because I'm attending classes here at Strickfield University next semester. Franklin looks pretty down. I'm sorry you had to see that back home, Rage. We're both sitting on our beds.

I reach across and take his hands. May I say something? He raises his eyes to mine. Sure. I know you're probably having your doubts about me. Please don't. I really do want to be with you. But why, Rage? Why are you still with me? Delphine's right. You can have any man you want. I could ramble to Franklin about why I want him, but I've learned that actions can speak a lot for a person.

Still holding his hands, I move across to Franklin's bed. Then we kiss. The more we get into our kiss, the more I'm feeling that I can't hold back anymore. I need him so desperately. I let go of his hands. Franklin is surprised when he sees me stand up and take off my clothes. Once I'm naked, I pull back the covers on my bed and lay down to face him. It's just you and me, Franklin.

The dorm is all ours. I want to take this next step with you. If you do too, then come be with me. I only want and desire you, Franklin. Franklin trusts me enough to where he knows I'm sincere. He removes his clothes and climbs into bed with me. Christmas Eve, late afternoon. The Strictfield Community Center was always a place where parents could bring their children on Christmas Eve for things such as Christmas stories, Christmas cakes and cookies, hot chocolate, and visiting with Santa.

It had been just as much of a tradition as the fact that each and every household in Strictfield would be decorated to make the village look like a winter wonderland, with the exception of the walled-off property that belonged to the Mirrens. In fact, Delphine Brewster Sloan helped run the establishment, along with a few other mothers. Delphine was making more mugs of hot chocolate when Mrs. Patterson walked into the kitchen. She gave Delphine a look of desperation.

Mary, what's wrong? Hasn't our Santa arrived yet? Delphine asked. Mary Patterson reached out, stopped motionless for a moment, then fell flat on her face to reveal the axe that was sticking out of her back. Delphine screamed, then she looked up and screamed even louder as the bloodstained Santa Claus stormed in and retrieved the axe from Mary Patterson's back. Santa looked right at Delphine and watched her scream when he drew back the axe.

Somehow, she forced herself to duck. When the axe blade became embedded in a cupboard, Delphine shoved Santa down and ran out. Delphine tried to yell for everyone to leave. Quickly, the shrilling scream of the Santa Claus from Hell overshadowed the soft Christmas music. Then more screams overshadowed Santa's as he chased after people while swinging the axe, sinking it into a few more parents. Delphine grabbed a folding chair and moved at Santa to try and keep him from killing any more parents, or even children.

Santa howled with rage and disarmed Delphine with a few hard swings, hands of the axe. Santa shoved her down and raised the axe for the kill. Delphine held her hands up and screamed as her life flashed right before her eyes. Christmas Eve evening. I awaken and know that Franklin and I are spooned up together. We spent much of the afternoon having sex. Franklin has definitely proven to be my chosen mate as he satisfied my every desire.

I, in turn, focused to satisfy his. Then we fell asleep together. together. My need for sex is satisfied for the time being. However, my need to kill is as urgent as ever. I manage to slip out of bed. Franklin is still fast asleep. I need to go out and prowl for a kill. Since it's Christmas Eve, I don't really think I'm going to find anyone. I may end up having to wait until the day after Christmas to look for somebody.

My bloodlust is demanding satisfaction, but I'm not going to take an innocent to do it. I get dressed and grab my smartphone. I leave the dorm and begin my walk around Strickfield. If Franklin texts me, I'll just tell him that I'm picking up food for us from either Andy's China Garden or Denoyer's Grill downtown, which are always open. If I had emotions, I'm sure it would simply amaze me at how this village goes all out for many of the holidays, including Christmas.

Every house is decorated and lit brightly. Some of the yards even have animatronics. In spite of all this, I still continue to feel my constant numbness. It isn't long before I hear the sounds of police cars in the distance. I decide to go and see what's going on. I know I'm only a police intern, which is why I'm not being called. Strickfield PD only calls me when it comes to detective work.

If there are that many police cars, it's probably something more dire that doesn't require detective work. Just the same, I'm going to go and see for myself. When I get to the scene, the Strickfield Community Center, Mayor Patrick Gunter recognizes me and waves for me to come over. I know you've been helping the police, but this doesn't require you tonight. Can you at least tell me what's going on? I ask. Mayor Gunter tells me that there's an escaped lunatic from Glenview Asylum inside the building wearing a Santa Claus suit and killing people left and right.

He mentions how this Santa left bodies all over Center Court at Strickfield Town Center Mall last night. As Mayor Gunter keeps talking, my bloodlust is going crazy, commanding me to claim this Santa. Just what Mayor Gunter tells me alone is enough to where I don't have to do my usual research. But the question now is, how do I get inside the community center without the police seeing me? Then I immediately have a plan and proceed with its execution.

I say goodbye to Mayor Gunter and wish him a good holiday. I know the village of Strickfield very well, thanks to all the maps on hand at the police station, including the one for the sewer system. Because of my highly photographic memory, I immediately remembered the way into the community center through the sewer tunnels. I open a manhole covered down in the crawl space where the shower pipes are located and come out that way.

After putting the cover back on, I begin my hunt for this Santa. My bloodlust is nagging at me now. It doesn't take me long to locate Santa. He's got a few women trapped in the kitchen, and then I immediately recognize Franklin's stepmother as one of them. When we started seeing each other, Franklin told me that Delphine volunteers her time here when she's not being the minister for Strickfield Community Church. It looks as though Delphine got beat up, but she's still alive.

I know that Franklin would be devastated if anything were to happen to his parents. The two of them put Franklin down, and yet he still thinks the world of them. I literally don't understand it. Just the same, I know I've got to do something to save these people. Santa never says a word. He just glares at the eight women he's holding hostage. He even raises his axe and brings it down in front of them, making them shriek or scream.

Even I understand how cowardly it is for an empowered male to attack a helpless female. I tighten my fists as my bloodlust now screams for me to take his fucking life. I must use my head. I can't just go in there and fight him. It would be different if Santa wasn't toying with those women. Then I move stealthily into the kitchen. He doesn't see me as I carefully slide open a drawer and pull out a kitchen knife.

All I have to do is just draw it back. Then I'll fling it right into his back. As I raise the knife for the kill, I get a text chime on my smartphone and know it's from Franklin. That throws off my plan as Santa turns and sees me with my knife raised. He screams and rushes right at me. Delphine is surprised to see me now. Reagan! No! She cries out. When Santa reaches me, he swings the axe wildly.

I quickly hit the floor and feel the rush of the blade go right over the back of my head. As I quickly turn onto my back, Santa raises his axe and brings it down. I turn over again and hear it hit the floor. I get to my feet and kick Santa in the back of the knee to take his leg out from underneath him. Santa growls and falls to the floor. I still have the knife in my hand before I can raise it to stab him.

Delphine surprises both of us by crying out and ripping the axe away from Santa. Reagan! Get out of here! Now! Delphine cries. Santa quickly gets back to his feet, then he reaches out and grabs the axe, having a struggle with Delphine. I don't see the other women that were with Delphine and determine that she must have gotten them out while I was distracting Santa. I'm definitely ready to stab Santa now, but I know that I can't let Delphine...

Wait a minute. She won't know that I'm a serial killer. Killing Santa would just be a matter of... helping Delphine. Of self-defense. Neither Delphine nor Santa can see what must be the evil glow in my eyes that all of my past victims have seen. All I have to do is move up behind Santa. Delphine will be splattered with his blood once I slice his throat, but common sense gets the better of me.

I can't let Delphine see just how violent I can truly become. She might tell Franklin, and I would possibly lose my mate. I have another idea. I quickly make my way around to where Santa can easily see me. Hey! Santa's eyes are on me as I pull my Christmas sweater up and show him my large breasts. Peek-a-boobies! His eyes are locked right on my breasts, which gives Delphine the advantage. She yanks the axe out of Santa's hands and swings it to catch him right in the gut.

He groans and stands for a long moment. I pull my sweater down as Delphine removes the axe and nails him one more time before he finally goes down. I quickly pull out my smartphone and call the police. I get Mayor Gunter and tell him that everything's alright and that Santa is slayed. My bloodlust is screaming at me for a fresh victim. But I had to give my kill to Delphine to keep my secret.

Delphine and I are alone now after I finish talking to Mayor Gunter. She turns to me and gives me a stern look. Really, Regan? Showing him your dirty pillows? I look sternly at her in return. You are still alive because of my dirty pillows. Never forget that. Delphine and I keep glaring at one another. Finally, Delphine softens her expression and sighs. She looks around and moves to make sure that we're truly alone.

I can't imagine why she would need to do that. She returns to me. Yes. You did save many lives today, Regan. Then she leans in and says quietly, I know who and what you are. Don't try to hide it from me. You are the angel of death. Then she backs away to get my reaction. I just look at Delphine. I think you're mistaken. Delphine shakes her head slowly. I'm not. You don't know, Regan, but many years ago, you saved many lives that night, including mine.

Just then, Mayor Gunter comes in with some police officers. He points right at me. Regan Devereaux, over here, now. Delphine mouths to me, we'll talk later. I nod to her and address Mayor Gunter, who gives me hell for not keeping my distance on the count of my being a college intern. At the same time, he congratulates me on being the hero. Of course, I make sure that Delphine has given her fair share of the credit since I didn't stop that Santa from hell alone.

Christmas afternoon. I look into the eyes of Templeton Mirren after I remove his blindfold. Then I remove his wife's. I have both of them secured to tables in their basement. Then I remove their gags. What the fuck is this? Destiny Mirren demands. I move to the front where they can see me. I have a remote control in my hand and I turn on their television. I have a little video here that I'd very much like the two of you to see.

I tell them. I play what is the security camera footage that was taken from the Strickfield Town Center Mall. Could I have gotten any more lucky? Chief Kaczmarek was a little strapped at the station, so he asked me if I'd stick around and go through the security footage from the mall. After texting Franklin and letting him know where I was, I went to the station and looked over the footage. Then I saw the angle to where Templeton Mirren had grabbed an innocent man and pulled him right into the path of the killer Santa, just so he could preserve his own life.

His wife had seen what her husband had done and wasn't concerned in the least. She only moved to get Templeton and the kids out of the mall quickly. Neither Destiny nor Templeton looked back. After finishing the footage, I stopped the video and looked at them. Any questions? So what? Destiny groans, looking as annoyed as she sounded. All this over an insignificant man? Templeton adds. It looks to me as if your family could have easily gotten away, but you grabbed that man and pulled him right in front of the killer, guaranteeing his death.

In effect, you killed him in cold blood. Your wife saw you and didn't care. In effect, condoning what you did. So now, I'm going to claim the both of you. Your children are with their grandparents. I've even disabled your cameras and your security system. It's just the three of us here. I even have pictures to display of shady bank records and illegal money laundering. I even found some Darknet stuff that they were involved in.

Too much to list here, but seeing the security video from his own mall was more than a red flag for me. Normally, I'd have killed them just based on that, but I wanted more to give to the police. After all, these two are from the infamous Mirren family. The two of them are quite emotionless. The only difference between these Mirrens and myself is that I was naturally born without emotions. These two are of great money and privilege, so much that they just stopped caring.

I'm wearing a plastic poncho and have an axe cradled in my hands. Oh, wait. It looks as if they do know fear. They see my evil glare and beg for their lives. Oh, but it's far too late for that. Templeton and Destiny Mirren, let the punishment fit the crime. Destiny screams as I bring the axe right down on her face. And I feel so much better. Now that my bloodlust is finally being satiated.

Christmas evening. Delphine called Franklin and made things right with him. She even told him to bring me back to the house for Christmas dinner. I agreed when he asked me and all was well. Franklin's dad still gave me some distrustful looks, but that was it. Delphine asked me to help her in the kitchen so we could have our little talk. As it turned out, Delphine had indeed discovered my secret. When she said that I had saved the lives of her and many children that night, it was because she had discovered Minister Harlow's terrible secret.

She had tried to stop him on her own using the legal system, but his influence was too strong. She decided that she would bring him down alone, even if it meant breaking the commandment regarding killing. As it turned out, I had read the story about Harlow in our newspaper in North Ridgeway. I came to Strickfield to claim him after I did my research. I broke into Harlow's house, not knowing that Delphine was already there ahead of me.

I ended up finding five children that Harlow had locked up in his basement. I freed them and told them to keep quiet. Harlow wasn't expecting a high school freshman girl to come for him. After going up to the second floor and beating the living shit out of Harlow, I tied him up to his bed and castrated him. Even then, I remembered Mama's words about making the punishment fit the crime. Delphine had been hiding in a closet, possibly waiting for the right moment to strike Harlow herself, and discovered that I was the angel of death.

After cleaning myself up, I gave one of my burner phones to the kids and told them to call the police. Delphine told me that after I had left, she had explained everything to the police, leaving me out of it. Delphine gave me a big hug and thanked me for what I had done, today and back then. She promised me that she would keep my secret. The only thing she asked was for me not to hurt Franklin.

I, in turn, promised her that I wouldn't. Delphine never so much as gave me or Franklin a hard time ever again. That night, Franklin and I go back to my dorm. After we have sex, Franklin and I talk. He tells me that he only wants to make me happy. I tell him that I am. Well, in my own way. I'm more than content on having Franklin Sloan as my mate, and I tell him that I'm not leaving him.

Franklin has a realization. I have something for you, Rage. He gets out of bed and brings me a small gift-wrapped box. I unwrap and open it to reveal his high school class ring. It's not much, Franklin tells me, but I know how I feel about you. Maybe Dad and Delphine are right about you being too good for me, but I need to know, Reagan Devereaux, will you marry me? I will, I say without hesitation.

Franklin is speechless in his emotions, but he finally finds himself and puts his ring on my finger. I return the favor by giving him my high school ring on a necklace. I only wish that I could feel the love that Franklin feels for me. Regardless, I will be a good wife to him, as he will be a good husband to me. So, this turned out to be a very good Christmas for me, after all.

Merry Christmas, everyone. Don't be naughty. Don't forget, Christmas isn't the only holiday coming right up. Eight days of Hanukkah are right around the corner. And speaking of Hanukkah, we have a very special story by my good friend Michelle Antisocial that features a Jewish character getting thrown into a world she's never experienced before. A world of Christmas romantic comedies. How can a Christmas romantic comedy become a horror story, you ask? Well, why not sit down, listen, and find out?

Right after these words from our sponsors. Welcome to Tiny Christmas Iowa by Michelle Adler. I let out a sigh as my Uber passed the now-entering-tiny-Christmas-Iowa sign. According to the sign, it's the tiniest, most Christmassy-est place in all of Iowa, my Uber driver Ajit chuckled, sensing my displeasure. I'm sure it's just as Christmassy as all fuck, I say, trying to come off as cheery and almost succeeding until that curse word at the end.

I lied on my interview. I hate Christmas. I hate the Midwest. The only thing I know about Iowa is that it's a Slipknot album and I've never designed a window display in my life. I am just an unemployable, grumpy, freelance graphic designer from New York City trying to find any work that isn't stocking shelves at a grocery store. To be honest, I didn't realize the position was out of state until after I'd applied.

I'd initially intended to turn the job down as I'd never had any desire to live anywhere other than the city that never sleeps. The high-rise condos, rats, street vendors, homeless people on every street corner, bodegas also on every corner, and constant bustle are things I've lived for. But at this point, maybe it's time to stop pretending I could make it in NYC anymore. It wasn't like I had a support system either.

No family left and no friends to speak of. I hadn't even been on a date in the last two years. My social life revolved mostly around my interactions with my landlord, none of which were pleasant. I heard that she was so happy I was leaving, apparently she even threw me a goodbye party. After I left. I lived for my work, but things have been so hard lately. Maybe it was time for me to give up.

Maybe it was time for me to start over. Ma'am, that's all good and fine, but we're here, Ajit said while simultaneously unlocking the doors. I hadn't realized we'd even stopped. Or that I was talking out loud. I guess it had been a while since I'd been around other people. I started to open the door before even looking at where I was. When I did, I pulled it back shut. This can't be right, I mumbled, fumbling for my phone to pull up the address I'd been given.

I was sure I was supposed to be in front of a house, my new house, or, I don't know, anything, but instead we sat in a desolate parking lot on the outskirts of what was hopefully the correct town, at least, though it looked anything but Christmassy. In front of me bloomed an industrial complex with a small collection of seemingly long-abandoned warehouses and factories. I felt a jolt of fear ping through my body.

It was quiet here. Too quiet. Quiet enough for me to be raped and murdered without anyone noticing. This is as far as I can take you. I jumped as I realized Ajit was already grabbing my luggage from the trunk. What? Why? So, no murder then? It's a small town and a beautiful day. Why not take a nice stroll through town on your way? I think the farmer's market goes till three, he dodged.

No, I don't want to walk in. It's 30 degrees, I said while repositioning the luggage he'd removed back into the Uber. I just want you to finish driving me. What's the big deal? It's your job, for Christ's sake. Ajit paused. Listen, I don't go in there. Tiny Christmas is not a town for people like me, he pointed to his turban. They're racist? I don't know what you want to call it, but I just don't want to spend the afternoon stuck in there while they try to convert me, again.

Last time I didn't even get to take a lunch break and I'm really hungry today so you're on your own, he said as he finished re-removing my luggage. Like I said, small town, very friendly. I'm sure you'll have no problem finding the place. Well, I personally respect the Islamic religion. I chased him as he walked back around to the driver's side door and pulled it open. I'll even buy you lunch. How's that?

Nope. Therapist said I need to start defining my boundaries or people are going to walk all over me for the rest of my life. He slammed the door and pressed the lock down. Enjoy your stay and tiny Christmas. I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time. With that, he and his Nissan Altima pulled out of the lot. Wait! You can't be serious! And I'm a Sikh, you asshole! He called back as he sped away.

I stood there, shivering in the cold, confused and becoming increasingly angry at my predicament. No, you're the asshole, I grumbled as I grabbed my luggage and resigned myself to walking into town. As I'd mentioned before, I was basically left to fend for myself in an abandoned wasteland. A beautiful young woman such as myself should not have to subject herself to such a dangerous situation. I pushed through the dystopian scenery with a confident stride, preparing myself for whatever unsavory situation lay ahead of me.

However, when I finally rounded the last warehouse, I was not prepared for what I saw. Ahead of me, across a set of train tracks, lay the most adorable little downtown I'd ever laid my eyes on. As I walked onward, the air became filled with the scent of pine, cinnamon, and roasted chestnuts. The streets were packed with happy-looking townsfolk, each one going out of their way to say hello as I passed. And Ajit was right.

There was a farmer's market! As nice as this all was, I have to admit I was a little uncomfortable with the level of friendliness and Christmas I was experiencing. I felt a bit of guilt well up inside me for not immediately being drawn in to the merriness. I managed to brush it off quickly, though. I wasn't wrong. They were the ones that were wrong. As I slowly became increasingly annoyed at the pleasantries I happened upon a coffee shop.

Welcome to Christmas coffee! An overweight elderly woman hollered in an alarmingly cheery tone as the door jingled closed behind me. Would you be able to point me in the direction of 616 Pine Street? I am an unemployed graphic designer with no chit-chat skills. Oh! I know who you are! You're the new window display coordinator from the big city! Well, yes, and I'm running late. Oh, sweetie, you look just about chilled to the bone.

Did some ethnic cab driver refuse to take you the whole way? She asked. I wondered how common of a thing that was. Here you go! She poured a cup of coffee and slid it to me. Free coffee on the house! I'm Amanda, by the way! I took the coffee avoiding her outstretched arm. That's really nice of you. I'll be sure to stop back when I'm settled, but I'm running late right now, so yeah, I was never coming back.

Oh, right! 616 Pine, was it? Make a left, then it's two blocks down. You couldn't even miss it if you wanted to. I thanked her and sped out the door before she could continue to waste my time. I took a sip of the coffee as I walked out into the holiday pandemonium and stopped dead as the warmth hit my tongue. This was the best cup of coffee I'd ever had in my entire life.

It was rich, and full-bodied with notes of cinnamon, allspice, and honey. It brought back a flood of childhood memories. Drinking hot chocolate after school as my mother brushed the snow out of my hair. Watching movies huddled by the fire. My mother's warmth as she rocked me to sleep. God, I missed her. If only, I thought, I could have something like that again in a real, non-coffee-based sense. Wait, what was I thinking?

I am a powerful, competent, unemployed graphic designer. I'd never wish for a family, I convinced myself, brushing the tears from my eyes. I went to take another sip of coffee, but I was beginning to feel nauseous, so instead I dropped it in the next available garbage can. Amanda was right. This place was hard to miss. Two blocks down was almost a full mile away, and basically in the woods. The quaint tutor with 616 scrolled across the door was the only building on the entire street.

As I walked up the driveway, I realized how eerily quiet it had become. I hadn't seen a single car pass me in the last half a mile. I shivered as the wind whipped up. This was the perfect place for an unsuspecting young woman to be raped and murdered. I was all alone. No wait. I was being watched. Well, hello there, Rachel. I jumped as the door of the house popped open to reveal a smiling middle-aged man in a suit.

Oh, oh, hi. I tried to collect myself. You must be... Correct. I'm Jake from the agency. So glad you were able to find your way here. I was getting a little worried that you hadn't been able to find a ride into town. Funny you should say that. Anyway, this is the place. He cut me off, holding the door open, beckoning me inside. The interior, despite having a certain charm, was covered in a layer of dust and white sheets.

The air had a musty quality that signaled that this place had been long forgotten. I sighed. I do not like cleaning. As mentioned earlier, he continued, it's $250 a month and you're responsible for paying all utilities as well as any yard work or snow removal that needs to be done. Also, I think there are Christmas lights in the basement so you won't even need to buy any to decorate. I won't be needing them, but thank you.

I just want to settle in. Oh, he seemed crushed. Well, they're in there in case you change your mind. It would probably go a long way to making this place feel like home. Um, thanks. Uh, how long has it been vacant? I slid my fingers through the dust on the fireplace mantle and almost gagged at the many years of dead skin cells. About five years, I think. That's... Uh, why so long?

I couldn't really tell you. I'm just a real estate agent. I don't own it or anything. He shrugged. Oh. Well, I mean, if I had to guess, maybe it was the murders. Murders? I parroted. See, I knew I was going to be raped and killed. Sorry, I misspoke. Disappearances is what I mean. It's not really murder without a body, Jake said matter-of-factly. But anyway, that was a long time ago and I heard that tenant was like, really into meth, so it was likely drug-related.

Wait, didn't you say... Anyway, here are the keys, he handed them to me while also turning the doorknob. You should be good to go. Have a wonderful life and tiny Christmas. And with that, he was already halfway down the line. walk. Murders? I had an unremarkable first night despite wondering just how many disappearances Jake had accidentally inferred. I tried not to concentrate on it too much. I was starting my new job the next morning, after all.

Holidays and more occupied the largest building in town. It was two floors of highly polished marble and glass. The first floor held the perfect area for a window display, but was currently empty. This will be my canvas, I thought. I put my hand up to the glass wistfully, only to have it slapped from the other side of the glass by a burly man with a beard. I jumped back and he let out a chuckle and motioned me to come inside.

I'm Mr. Santon, the general manager, the burly man explained, giving me a firm handshake. Great to meet you in person. Thanks so much for the job. We're just so pleased you accepted it. The entire board was unanimous in the decision to hire you. Your plan for a Christmas display that gets us back to our roots is genius. Thank... Before I could finish, he pulled me in for a hug. Say no more, Ms.

Adler. We're just so happy we can add you, another true believer of the magic of Christmas, to our wonderful family. He said while patting me on the back. I recoiled slightly and he seemed to catch my discomfort and let me go. Sorry, I just love Christmas so much I get carried away sometimes. That's... I just... I should probably get to work, right? I deflected. Oh, of course! There's only two weeks till the big reveal after all.

I'm sure every second counts. Mr. Santon led me over to my workspace and introduced me to my assistant, Tom Thompson, a tall and slightly too handsome man in a red vest. I felt... uncomfortable for looking at him for too long like I might... I don't know... blush if I did? You know, Tom, you could take notes for Ms. Adler here, Mr. Santon said before leaving. Up your holiday game a little and maybe you'll be the next one promoted.

Tom looked towards me and let out a little sigh. Yes, sir. On that first day, we spent most of our time going through boxes, taking inventory of what supplies the store already had so I'd know what we would need to buy. So, I broke the silence. Mr. Santon wants you to up your holiday game, eh? Yeah, I guess he's noticed I haven't been my normal cheery self for the last couple of years. he seemed as surprised by that timeline as I did.

That's a long time to not be happy. Like I'd know what happy was. I was a weirdly employed graphic designer caught in what was increasingly feeling like a low-budget Christmas movie. I guess so. I just haven't been myself since... my wife died. Oh, he was single and not even the divorced kind. Widowed. The good kind of single. I stopped going through the box of Christmas lights. My hands were shaking. Yeah, it was really tragic.

She hit a deer. He was going on about his dead wife but all I could concentrate on was my own heartbeat as it began to speed up. Why did I care if this guy was single? What was happening to me? I concentrated on regaining my composure. I just needed to take it easy. This had been a big move, a huge change and I'd lost my bearings. It was perfectly reasonable that I would feel confused and even want to fit in.

Things would get less weird once I was used to my surroundings. And then when we took her off life support, oh god, he was still going. I just don't think I'll ever really love anyone again, you know? I get it, but you're young, you'll meet someone again when you're ready, I tried to console. He blushed slightly. You're a really good listener, you know? Hey, would you like to come over for dinner on Sunday?

We make a big meal after church, so it's always nice to have some extra company. Oh, no, no, I don't want to impose. We don't really know each other and please, I think of it as me repaying you for your kindness for letting me dump all my problems on you like this, he begged. Well, when you put it that way, sure. After a relatively uneventful week, I awoke from a particularly weird nightmare at 3am Saturday morning to the sound of talking.

Frustrated and groggy, I did what any good New Yorker would. I pushed the window open with a level of violence that this house had probably never seen and leaned out into the dark. Shut the fuck up or I'll fucking come down there and murder you! I yelled, then slammed the window shut and lay back down. It was quiet for a minute, but then... Was that chanting? By that point, my complete consciousness had returned and I realized that I was no longer in an apartment.

I was in a house. I was in a completely isolated house. No one should be outside. I lay there in silence, trying to get a grasp on what I was hearing. Chanting? Crying? Maybe it was a wild animal, I thought. I'd heard foxes kind of sound like people. Honestly, I didn't want it to be people or animals. Both seemed like they could be dangerous and for the first time since the day I'd moved in, I considered what the word disappearances could possibly mean. after what may have been hours, the strange noises dissipated, but I did not sleep for the rest of the night.

In the morning, I decided maybe I would put up those Christmas lights. The house had no exterior lighting at all, and seeing as it had sat unoccupied, there was a chance someone could still think it was vacant and try to break in, if the noises I'd heard were people anyway. If it was foxes or wolves or something, the light should deter them too, despite being opposed to my core beliefs, I'd do it for my safety.

I found a box with one whole strand of lights in it in the basement, just enough to do the awning out front. I figured it was better than nothing, and it also meant I didn't have to spend all day putting them up, so win-win. There was, however, another box in the basement. I'd thought it was more Christmas decorations originally, since there was a piece of garland at the top, but when I brought it upstairs, I realized that what I'd really found was a gun.

A shotgun of some sort, to be more specific. Along with it was a little box with just a few bullets in it. Seven. I counted. I'd never really handled a gun before, and felt conflicted about realizing that it had been in the house with me for the last week. Whose was it, and why would they leave it anyway? Shit, for all I knew all houses in Iowa came with guns. After some careful contemplation and YouTube videos, I decided to keep it by the door, loaded, in case I did end up running into whatever I had heard the night prior.

When I heard the noises again that night, I at least managed to convince myself I could protect myself and got the smallest bit of sleep. By the time Tom came to pick me up on Sunday, I was already exhausted and a little jumpy. You look tired, are you okay? He asked as I fastened my seatbelt. His genuine concern made my heart feel all warm for some reason. Yeah, just, uh, insomnia. I used to have that real bad when Joanne first died.

It's hard being in that house all alone, huh? Not really, why would it be hard? I just guess I find being alone really difficult. Everyone needs someone to hold at night, he informed me. Was he suggesting he wanted to hold me at night? We arrived at his parents' lovely little colonial only a few minutes later. I may have neglected to say this, but he'd been living with his family since his wife died.

I thought it was a little weird, but I also knew grief could really mess up a person, so it was better I didn't judge. Anyway, the house was all decked out in a literal ton of blinking Christmas lights, outside and in. It was really too distracting and tacky for my taste. His mom and dad hugged me immediately as we entered and thanked me for taking such good care of their son. Did they think we were a couple?

Did I want us to be a couple? What? No! We had a nice dinner and his family told me stories about what Tom was like growing up. After dinner, they wanted to sing Christmas carols so his mom gathered us around the piano as his father played. I don't know any full carols, but I managed to stumble through all right. We laughed a lot. It was really nice to feel like I was a part of something again.

It made me miss my parents terribly. I wanted so much to feel safe and loved like that again. Maybe, I thought, just maybe the Thompson's could be my new family. Maybe this place could be my new something to be a part of. We kissed in my driveway before I got out of the car. He told me he was falling for me. Maybe, I was falling for him too. I woke up in a pure panic at 3am.

I wasn't even aware of why I was so scared for a minute until the events of the evening came back to me. Something was terribly wrong with me, and the noises were back. The next week was crunch time. We had to make this display the most wonderful the town had ever seen. We could do it. I knew we could. Tom and I spent most of our waking hours together making sure everything was perfect for the big reveal on Friday night.

Well, he spent most of his waking hours. I mean, he was probably sleeping. I was still hearing those weird noises. However, I was beginning to think that living in the country just meant hearing unexplained sounds at night. It was nothing to worry about, and I had that gun, just in case, which I decided to leave by my front door indefinitely. Plus, Tom and I were considering moving in together, so he would be able to protect me.

Everything was okay. Everything was better than expected. Friday went wonderfully. Mr. Santon praised us both and offered me a permanent position, which I gladly accepted. I invited Tom over that evening to celebrate. So, uh, are you going back to New York City for Christmas? He asked me as we cuddled on the couch. Christmas was just five days away, wasn't it? Nah, I'm just going to get some Chinese food and watch movies.

That sounds really sad, Rachel. You should come over to my house. We always decorate our tree on Christmas Eve, then we do presents in the morning. You can sleep over. It'll be fun, he suggested. My family loves you, so I'm sure they'd be happy to have you. That sounds really nice, but actually I think I just want to take it easy. Oh. His expression fell. No, it's not like that, but I've, I needed to be honest with the man I loved.

I've been lying to you, I'm not. There was that chanting again. Lying? He asked, but then saw the fear on his face. What's wrong? Do you hear that? What is that? I said in a whisper, my voice shaking. Tom listened for a second. The singing? That's carolers, isn't it? I held my breath to try to ascertain what I was hearing. It was getting closer this time. Tom was right. It was people singing.

Carolers, I breathed. Yep, the weekend before Christmas they go out and sing at people's houses. Didn't you have that in New York? I shook my head. Had this been what I was hearing the whole time? Carolers practicing somewhere? It sounds like they're right outside. I jumped as the doorbell rang, but convinced myself it was okay to answer it. Outside were seven of the townsfolk, decked out in Christmassy attire. As soon as they saw me, they began to sing.

I wasn't familiar with the song, but it was just so beautiful that tears started coming to my eyes. Here I'd been all worked up about people singing Christmas songs. This wasn't New York City. Nothing was going to try to hurt me here. No one had been anything other than kind to me. I stood in the doorway listening for a long time, just taking in the joy. I let the New Yorker part of me fade.

It was okay now. I was okay. Maybe I should go get some money for them or something, I thought. That was the least I could do for this kind of spiritual awakening, right? I was about to turn around to find my purse when something stopped me. I stopped me. What the fuck was I doing? I was a savvy fucking New Yorker. I didn't need this dumb shit. This wasn't even what I wanted at all.

What was I even doing with this boring, sad guy? I didn't even like men and I hated Christmas carols. Hey, can you guys, that's enough, can you stop now? I pleaded. Really, please, stop. No one seemed to hear me. I felt a deep primal fear rise up in my stomach. I needed to lie down or something. I needed them to stop singing already. Tom, can you, I turned around just in time to see Tom lunge at me with a weird looking knife.

Instinctively, I dodged and pushed him to the ground. I am a New Yorker who knows how to defend myself. I grabbed the shotgun. Aww, the carolers grumbled in unison. What the fuck is going on here? I spat, clenching my weapon tightly. You ruined everything, that's what? One of them moaned. I pointed my gun at the small crowd. Are you trying to disappear me? Is that what this is? You know, Tom, if you hadn't waited so long, one of them began, Tom was now sulking on the ground behind me.

I was waving the gun wildly between him and the carolers now. I just wanted it to be perfect. I'm sorry, guys, Tom shrugged. She's gonna taste like shit now. Adrenaline fucks everything up, another said. Will someone please tell me what's going on, I shouted. Tell me or I kill every one of you. Tom sighed. We were just trying to teach you the true meaning of Christmas. By killing me? Of course not.

Think of all the love we showed you these past couple of weeks. That's the true meaning of Christmas. I recognized this one. It was the woman from the cafe. We know you felt it. We could tell. Felt it? This isn't me. What did you do? Have you been putting something in my food? Oh, sweetie, don't be so paranoid. Everything we gave you was simply made with love, something you've been sorely lacking, Amanda explained.

Well, that and just a teensy tiny bit of LSD. The others nodded in agreement. You fucking dosed me with LSD? What we did, Rachel, was give you the best two weeks of your life. We even got you back in touch with your religion, said Mr. Santon. My what? Now you can die happily, Tom chimed in, now standing over me with that knife smiling manically. I'm Jewish, you assholes! I screamed ! and shot a bullet into Tom's confused looking face, his body thudded to the floor.

Oh man, how are we going to explain this to everyone? They whined as I turned my gun back to them. Can we even sacrifice a Jew? You're not sacrificing anyone. If you try, I'll blow all your goddamn brains out. I threatened, holding the shotgun mere inches from them, but they ignored my warning and continued discussing my murder like I wasn't even there. Fucking rude townies. It's not ideal, but where are we going to find a Christian this close to the ceremony?

Santon explained. A Jew is probably better than nothing even if she is all upset and will probably taste like sadness. Hey, I bet I taste just fine. What was I saying? I did probably taste like sadness, but that wasn't the point. They were trying to kill me. I knew if I wanted to survive the night and ever see my actual home again, I was going to have to stand my ground and take those fuckers out then and there.

I broke their disagreement with a single shot, fired directly into the chest of the weirdo closest to me. He fell to the ground in emotionless heap. That was finally the motivation the rest needed to come at me, but I was the one with the gun. What? You're not even going to try to rape me first? I shouted as I fired mercilessly into them. Turns out it isn't actually that hard to shoot people when they're that close to you.

I don't know if I killed them all, but I certainly shot them enough to make it so they'd have a hard time chasing me if they survived. I ran as far away as I could before calling you. I don't know if others are coming for me, but I'll be ready if they do. I would have called the police, but I'm sure they're in on it. You were right. That town is crazy.

Ajit let out a sigh. How many times, he wondered, was he going to help people flee from a crime scene. This couldn't be worth the money. He'd be better off working for one of those takeout services. Yeah, he was going to sign up once he got home. No more transporting crazy people, just transporting food to crazy people. Wait, weren't there eight of them total? He asked, hoping this didn't set her off.

Didn't you see that gun only had seven bullets? Doesn't that mean you missed one? Rachel thought for a second. Nope, she'd definitely shot eight cultists. She'd counted. I guess you could call it a Hanukkah miracle, she giggled. Ajit let out a fake laugh, not sure what she meant. So, uh, airport then? Yeah, please. Well, my friends, before we wrap up our night of celebrating classic horror stories of the Christmas season, I want to remind you that every Wednesday in December is a brand new terrifying tale.

We've already released a story about a murderous Santa Claus and a devious Krampus looking for souls and blood. So, make sure you're subscribed on your favorite podcasting app and while you're at it, leave us a five-star rating. It really does make a difference whether on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you're listening. That's a way to make sure I have a very merry Christmas. It wouldn't be Christmas without a trip to a toy store. gathering up goodies and gadgets to share with the little ones.

But these toys, they don't necessarily want to play with you so much as get you. So, enjoy Babes in Terrorland as our final story to get you in the holiday spirit. after this word from our sponsors. Babes in Terrorland by Morgan Moore. As with many holiday seasons before it, parents and children flocked to Barron's Toy Store in the village of Green Seas. In the middle of the crowd was Justin Barron, a 14-year-old boy with an apron featuring a hand-sewn version. of the store's logo in the middle.

Justin was staying with his grandmother, the owner of the store, for the holidays while his parents were away on a business trip. He was enlisted to lend a hand almost immediately upon his arrival with it being the store's busiest time of year. Justin could never understand how she managed it all on her own, but she had been doing it ever since his grandfather died a few years ago and was managing it successfully, somehow.

Justin moved around the store as best he could, seeing how crowded the small store was and all. The building itself was an old brownstone with the store situated on the ground floor and Mrs. Barron's home on the second. The store could become a claustrophobic nightmare when business was booming, but he managed stocking the shelves and helping out customers as best he could. By the time three o'clock came around, Justin was spent and was ready for the day to be over so he could finally get some rest.

Those thoughts were interrupted when he laid eyes on Kathy Wilcox. He had known her since fourth grade and had a crush on her that never faded. Justin always wanted to tell her how he felt, but he could never muster up the courage to do it. Somehow he could picture everything he wanted to say, but any time he saw her, it all vanished. Justin felt himself beginning to melt as he kept looking at her.

His face turned bright red and immediately Justin began to do some busy work around the area, trying to disguise the fact that he had been staring at her. Justin's heart beat faster and faster as if somebody was pounding away on a drum, but that came to an immediate halt when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Kathy there. Hi, Justin, Kathy said sweetly. Hi, Kathy, Justin stammered, his face feeling like it was on fire.

Kathy gave him an intimate smile, her blue eyes seeming to shimmer to Justin. Mind if I ask you a question? Uh-oh, Justin thought. She's gonna chew me out for looking at her and in the middle of the store too, everybody's gonna think I'm some perv. Sure, Justin responded after a brief pause. Could you help me and my sister real quick? What a relief, Justin thought. Oh, yeah, for sure. What do you guys need?

He asked. She then began to walk away down an aisle. Justin followed close behind her. My sister found something she wants, but I can't reach it and neither can she. I saw you and thought I'd ask if you could bring it down for me since you're so tall and all, Kathy explained. Oh, yeah, I should be able to get it for you, Justin replied with a smile. Kathy returned the smile. Man, she's so cute, Justin thought as they kept walking beside one another.

The two eventually got to their location and joined Kathy's sister, Janet. Upon seeing Justin in the apron identifying him as a store employee, Janet pointed upwards toward the top of the shelf she was standing at. That one, please, Janet asked Justin. Justin looked up to where the child pointed and saw a clown doll. The doll had been in the store ever since he could remember. It had a wooden head and hands and was dressed in a hand-sewn outfit colored silver and blue.

A jester hat adorned its head, bells dangling down playfully. Justin had always thought it looked creepy, and other people must have thought the same as the doll had been around the store ever since he was a child. But maybe, finally, someone had found the doll appealing and wanted to give it a home. Justin smiled and reached up, just barely able to get the doll. He got a grip on it and brought it down, handing it gently to the little girl.

Here you go, Justin said. Janet smiled as she held and stared at the doll. Kathy turned to Justin and gave him a big smile. He returned it in kind. I want him, Janet responded energetically as she held the clown doll up to the two. How much is it, Kathy asked Justin. I'm not sure. It doesn't look like it has a tag on it. Let's ask my grandma, Justin said. They arrived at the register to find Justin's grandmother smiling at the three.

There you are, Justin. What cute friends you have there, she said. Kathy blushed lightly at the comment. Hey, grandma, how much is this? There's no tag on it or even a sign on the shelf it was on. His grandmother's smile turned to a slight frown. Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. That doll isn't for sale. I only keep it on the shelf for decoration, she explained as sweetly as possible. But I want it, Janet told her.

Are you sure you're not able to sell it, Kathy asked. Unfortunately, I am, dear. My husband made the doll many years ago for Justin's mother and it just has too much sentimental value for me to sell it. It's been watching over the store for years, Justin's grandma explained to the three. Janet frowned, tears starting to well up. Justin smiled a little bit at the two and at his grandma. It's all right, I'll put him back, Justin said.

He then made a motion with his head for Kathy and Janet to follow him. The three of them made their way back to the aisle. Janet looked utterly devastated that she couldn't have the doll and Kathy looked equally saddened for her sister. Once they got back to the aisle, Justin put the doll back up. He then turned to Kathy with a small grin. She tilted her head in confusion. What is it?

Why are you grinning like that? She asked. Because I know of a way to get that doll for Janet, he explained. Janet's face brightened up at once. Really? How? Justin moved in a bit closer to Kathy so that he could talk to her in semi-privacy. Janet frowned when she realized what was going on. My grandma is going to go out to a party tonight and I'll be alone for hours. Come on by around eight and I'll let you in.

We can get the doll then, he explained to her. But she'll notice, won't she? Kathy asked. Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Just be here by eight. Later that night, Justin made his way downstairs to the store and opened the front door to find Kathy and Janet standing there. Justin frowned a tiny bit as the two girls made their way inside. Why'd you bring your sister? he asked, doing his best to hide his disappointment that it wasn't just Kathy.

She wanted to come and I couldn't get her to stay home without spilling the beans. I told my parents I was going out with friends and she threatened to tell them what I was really doing, Kathy explained. I mean, it isn't entirely untrue. You are hanging out with a friend, Justin said with a small smile. I'm going, Janet blurted out and ran towards the aisle with the doll. So, how are you going to explain this to your grandma?

Kathy asked as she walked past a display of a toy war scene. Oh, I'm going to tell her I ordered a pizza and just forgot to lock the door on my way back up. I'll take some money out of the register and hide a few other toys, maybe knock some displays over and make it look like somebody broke in and robbed the place, he explained. That's pretty clever. Mean, but clever, she responded as she stopped by the register.

Justin stopping in front of her. Hey, what can I say? Justin said. Kathy smiled a bit as she fiddled with some small toys by the register. She looked around then returned her gaze to Justin. Why are you doing this for us? Why are you risking getting into so much trouble? His mind raced at a million miles an hour trying to figure out how to explain why he was so willing to help her sister out.

No, help her out. Before he could give it any more thought, he blurted out his response. It's because I like you. I've always liked you. I think you're sweet and cute and I just wanted to help because I like you and I thought maybe you'd like me back if I did it. He gasped for breath. Justin closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, eventually regaining control of his breathing. After a few brief minutes, he opened his eyes.

Finding that Kathy was staring at him, her mouth dropped open some and her eyes wide. Dread filled Justin, his heart beating harder and harder. Oh no, she's gonna leave and never speak to me again and tell everybody I'm a loser and a freak. But she surprised him by smiling at him, warmly and widely. Justin slowly smiled back. They brought their faces close to one another, only a hair's breadth apart. The scream that ripped through the air put an end to that.

Janet, Kathy called out and rushed toward the location the scream emanated from. Justin following in her wake. The duo arrived to find Janet, laying on the floor, screaming and crying in agony, her eye sockets bleeding profusely. As for the former resident of those yawning black holes, they were in the hands of the clown doll. The toy turned its head and looked at them. Justin and Kathy bolted from the aisle, the clown doll right behind them.

As they ran down the aisles, Kathy shrieked as the other toys began to spring from the shelves and joined the hunt. Stuffed bears and lions pawed at them with vicious claws that sprang from their plush paws as metal model cars pelted down on the teens like rain, leaving bruises and cuts. Justin managed to grab a baseball bat from a nearby barrel and started swinging away as Kathy grabbed a stick horse and did the same.

The two sent toys flying left and right, but more and more came forth. Soon, Justin and Kathy found themselves surrounded. They continued to swing away, but soon, the terror toys grabbed their weapons and pulled them away, leaving the pair defenseless. Justin and Kathy looked at each other and took hold of each other's hand, ready to accept their doomed fate. The store lights came alive and bathed everything in a warm fluorescent glow, causing the pair to start.

Oh no, look at this mess, the voice of Justin's grandmother rang out. The older woman looked around at all the toys, who now looked back at her. She stopped a few feet away from the rattled teens. Grandma, what's going on? Why are you home? Justin spat out in a mix of confusion and anger. And why did they attack us? And my sister, my God, Janet! Kathy started, but soon stopped as she succumbed to raw grief.

The senior shook her head and sighed. I suppose I should explain. You see, these toys, all of them, they come alive every nightfall. But, but, why? How? Justin demanded. Justin, dear, your grandfather, your grandfather made them that way. Business hasn't been the same for years, not since that damn department store opened up. Then, when we learned your grandpa didn't have long left, he was afraid of what would happen to the store.

To me, it was his opinion that without any help the store would have shut down. So, he decided to create some help. Your grandfather came across a strange scroll during the war in a bombed-out toy store, a store he swore was filled with screaming, burning toys. You can guess the rest. These toys have been cleaning, stocking, and providing security, as you've seen here ever since. These wonderful toys, they're loyal, and always have been, and always will be.

Justin and Kathy were taken aback. They believed it all, after all, how could they not? But something still bothered them. Oh, thank God. We're safe then, Kathy told them. The two smiled as they looked at each other, and then at Justin's grandma. But the smiles faded as they saw that the elder in front of them was grim. Grandma? Justin started with a shaky voice. I'm sorry, love, but you were trespassing. You know I don't like you coming down here at night to say nothing of your friend here and her sister.

The store was closed. Besides, they don't move during the day, but they can still hear. When I left for the party, they told me about your little plan. That's why I came back early. You mean, you're gonna turn us into the police? Kathy asked. No. Unfortunately for you two, I leave all my security matters up to them. And I believe I know what they'll do with you. She explained. The toy soldiers from the war scene filed in, aiming their guns at the teenagers.

Justin and Kathy's faces displayed pure and utter terror. With that, Justin's grandmother left and made her way to the stairs. She looked over at the two again and shook her head and sighed. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she turned off the lights. A stream of sharp bangs filled the store.