Santa's Grotto

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A family, a group of workers and two friends face the wrath of a psychotic Santa Claus.

Submitted: December 08, 2016

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Submitted: December 08, 2016



Santa's Grotto

December 24th, 5:21pm

The screams were fading…fading. All sounds were becoming morphed into one. He did not understand that he had been struck across the head, or the murder and chaos that was going on around him. That understanding was beyond him now. He did, however, look up, and somewhere deep in his subconsciousness, he knew what was about to happen to him.

The last thing he saw was a sharp blade, the last thing he felt was that very blade penetrating his larynx.



"Thank fuck that's over and done with", said Francesca. She and her best friend Sarah had been volunteering with the food banks all day, making sure those who were worse off had food for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Francesca believed that these people dug their own graves, that they should provide from themselves and not receive donations from others. She only did it because Sarah wanted to help out, and she did not want to do it alone. Francesca would do anything for that woman. Both women had the typical lesbian haircuts, but Sarah gave no indication that she had feelings for Francesca. She had never actually spoken about her sexuality with her - it was just something they never talked about. Deep down, however, they both knew that they were more than friends, and it was only a matter of time before a move was made.

"It's one day in the year", replied Sarah. Being quite overweight herself, she felt guilty if she did not do something to help those at Christmas time. Francesca was overweight, too, and would probably be even fatter after eating the Christmas dinner they had planned together. It was going to be a great Christmas this year – Francesca’s parents were away for the week, so Sarah had invited her to spend it with her family.

Sarah was driving herself and Francesca through the small town of Footmoor, a place where Christmas was taken far too seriously. All through the town, decorations were pinned up on every house, making the place look like Lapland. Francesca was glad to be coming out of the town and into her own, where there weren't a quarter as many decorations. That was why she was disappointed when she saw the "Grotto", which was a small cottage stood in the middle of a practically empty field. They had seen it on the way in, and thought nothing of it, but now, it was lit up so much it stood out like dog piss on a snowman.

"I bet that place was heaving today", said Sarah.

"I don't know anyone would want to dress up as Santa", replied Francesca. "They must be mad".

"You need to get into the Christmas spirit, man", said Sarah, who had been rushed off her feet all day. She was driving at almost sixty miles per hour on this straight road - it was completely deserted, but she was only half-concentrating while talking to her friend.

That was when she hit the deer.

Neither of them realised it was a deer at first - it was just a huge shock to see something suddenly fly out seemingly out of nowhere and into the windshield of the car, completely shattering the glass. That deer had no chance of surviving, since it actually came through the car and its legs landed on Sarah. They both screamed in terror, staring at the dead animal, which had a flashing red light clipped to its nose.

"Are you alright?" said Sarah, after about thirty seconds of initial shock.

"Yeah", Francesca replied, looking over to the cottage. "Look, it wasn't your fault!"

"Do you think they'd still be in there?" Sarah asked.

The bright light on the door said "open", but it was getting late, so Sarah did not know whether there was anyone in or not.

"I can't believe I did that!" she then said, putting her head into her hands. “The insurance is gonna be through the roof!”

Running over Rudolph would turn out to be the least of her problems.



"Dad, can we go in there and see Santa?" asked eight year old Grace.

"I think it's closed by now", replied a stressed Alan.

The family had been visiting relatives all day ahead of Christmas. Alan's brothers were not able to make it for Christmas Day because they were at work (being police officers had its disadvantages, he had tried to tell them), and Leigh's parents wanted to see their daughter and two grandchildren before they went to sleep anyway. Alan had been out all day, running after people, driving from here to there, and the last thing he wanted was to take the twins to see Santa.

"It doesn't look closed", argued Joshua. Seeing that grotto lit up in the middle of the empty, dark road made him even more excited than he had been this past week. It was the night before Christmas, and seeing Santa himself would be a dream. He was always disappointed when he had never even heard Santa putting out the presents every year, and he had made it his mission to see him in the flesh. Grace, on the other hand, was not as enthusiastic. She repeatedly told her brother that the real Santa was in the North Pole, that he only paid people to dress up as him because he was too busy. Joshua accused her of being moody and stupid. She said that she was only being realistic. Now, however, she still wanted to see the person dressed up as Santa, probably because she knew that he would give her an extra selection box like they always did at these things.

"Dad's had a busy day", said Leigh, who was feeling tired herself now. It would have been nice, but she did not know how long the queues would be.

"I think I see him!" said Grace.

She had seen him. He was stood in the doorway, waving at the car, as if he knew that there were children in it.

"Alright", sighed Alan, "but we're not staying for long. Santa's busy tonight".

He crept the car all the way up the bumpy road to the grotto.

"It looks like nobody else is here", said Leigh, getting out of the car.

"There's Rudolph!" Joshua suddenly said. There were several deer in the field next to them, and Rudolph was there, with his bright red nose. The children were amazed.

"How come this place has never been here before?" asked an impressed Alan.

"I'm surprised nobody has told us about it", replied Leigh, who knew this building - she knew the people who lived in this cottage many years ago. They were dead now, but the place brought back warm memories for her.

"Ho, ho, ho!" cried Santa as he walked out of the cottage.

"Santa!" both of the children cried as they approached him.

"Why don't you come in, I might have a surprise for you!" he said to them.

"It's not closed, is it?" asked Leigh, observing that there was nobody else around.

"Santa's grotto is never closed!" the man replied. He really did look like Santa. The beard looked genuine, and the man was large and certainly jolly.

The family entered the grotto, and Santa sat down on his chair. An odd smell suddenly struck Alan and Leigh - it was a sudden, strong stench that seemed to be coming from the back room.

"Would you both like an early Christmas present?" he asked them eagerly.

"Yes, please!" both of the twins replied at once.

Slowly, he put his hand into his bag. When he pulled his hand back out, that was when the killing started.



"We'll have to go inside", said Francesca, after moving the dead animal away from the car. "Someone is probably in there if they let their deer roam around".

"How are we going to explain this to them?" Sarah said, still worried about how her insurance was going to hit the roof. Trust something like this to happen on Christmas Eve, she thought.

The door to the cottage opened, and both women saw this at once, probably because the light from inside was the only light that was visible. A large masculine figure stepped out, and they soon realised that the man was the person who was dressed up as Santa.

"It'll be alright", said Francesca. "I'll do most of the talking if you want".

Sarah agreed, and Santa approached the car, seemingly as shocked as they were.

"Are you alright in there?" he asked the two women.

"We've been better", replied Sarah. "I'm so sorry for what happened. It came out of nowhere".

"I'm more concerned about the two of you, to be honest", said Santa. He looked down at the deer, which was clearly dead. That animal had spent the last day of its life entertaining dozens, if not hundreds, of children, who had been packed into that grotto earlier that day. Now, however, the only sign of life in this place was Santa, Francesca and Sarah.

"What do we do in this situation?" asked Sarah, who had never been in a collision before. She had no knowledge of how people dealt with circumstances like these.

"Why don't you come inside?" asked Santa. "It's freezing out here. I'll phone a tow truck for the car".

The windshield was completely gone, so there was no way that the two women could have got home unless they called for a ride, as the distance was too far to walk, especially in weather like this. It had also started to rain.

"Thank you", replied Sarah, walking over to the grotto. She could not stop thinking about what her parents were going to say.

Francesca had her phone in her hand, and was ready to make a phone call to her own mother, but Santa interrupted her.

"Watch out for more of these deer", he said. "If one can escape, the others can".

"Escape?" said Francesca, confused about how the deer managed to get onto the road in the first place.

"I don't know how Rudolph there got out. There must have been a gap in the fence".

"I just didn't see him at all", said Sarah.

"Try not to blame yourself", replied Santa, who had reached the door. "After you".

Sarah and Francesca entered the grotto. It was warm and a fire had been lit, and there was a beautiful Christmas tree with all of the traditional decorations such as tinsel and ornaments, but there was a strange smell. The smell was strong, and it was coming from the back room. Francesca still had hold of her phone, and was eager to make that phone call to her mother, but her fingers had gone slightly numb from the cold, so she struggled slightly.

The door closed, and Santa pulled a pistol out from his coat pocket, holding it up to the back of Francesca's head.

"Put that fucking phone down", he said.

Francesca, still in shock, dropped the phone on the floor, almost without thinking, and the screen smashed. She started to shake as Santa held the gun on her back. Sarah could only stand and stare, completely motionless. She could not believe what was happening.

"Who sent you here?" Santa asked Francesca.

"What?" replied Francesca, having no idea about what he was talking about.

"WHO FUCKING SENT YOU HERE?!" Santa screamed. "If you don't answer in these next three seconds, I'LL BLOW YOUR FUCKING BRAINS OUT!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" whimpered Francesca. Sarah briefly noticed that Francesca had wet herself.

"Wrong fucking answer!" Santa yelled. He pulled the trigger, and the bullet went right through Francesca's head and landed in the Christmas tree. Blood and bits of brain splattered all over Sarah's face, who was stood directly in front of her. Sarah tried to scream but nothing came out. Santa then looked at her.

"Your turn", he said, giving her a large smile.



"Here's your fucking present!" Santa screamed, pulling out a pistol and pointing it at them. The children screamed simultaneously, and Alan instinctively reacted by running towards the psychopath.

Santa shot the man directly in the chest, which caused him to fly back and land in the Christmas tree. The children were screaming while Leigh was stood catatonic with shock. She then realised what was happening at that very moment in time, and ran towards the children.

Santa punched her in the face, causing her to fall down. He then picked up Grace by her back and held her in the air. He grabbed her by the legs and moved over to the fireplace and flung her across the air with all the force he could create, slamming her face into the brick wall. Blood poured out of her nose and within seconds her entire face was covered with the red liquid. He then opened the door to the back room and threw her in there. Crunching sounds could be heard as the motionless girl landed on the floor.

"Ruby!" Leigh repeatedly screamed. She sat up and ran for Joshua. Santa quickly pulled out his gun and held it to the back of his head.

"You move one fucking inch and I'll end him!" he said to Leigh.

Leigh could not think straight, and all she could do was look into the back room to see if her daughter was still alive. She was sure it was her neck that was broken.

"She's dead!" Santa said. "Didn't you see what I just did? Now both of you get in there or I'll kill the other fucking kid!"

Leigh followed the instructions, traumatised by what had happened to her daughter, but terrified for her son. She walked past her husband, who was still alive.

"I'll deal with you in a minute", he said, grinning.

Leigh and Joshua went into the back room, which was full of fresh corpses. Dead people in elf costumes were scattered around the place. Half of them had been mutilated. One old woman, who had been badly beaten, was still alive, and woke up to see who had just entered the room. Leigh did not care about that. She ran over to Grace to see if she was actually dead. If there was even any chance at all that she was alive, she had to see.

Leigh's hands were trembling as she felt Grace's neck for a pulse. After checking several times, she could feel nothing. There were also no signs that she was breathing. She held up her head and it flopped downwards, indicating that it was indeed the neck that had been broken. Leigh then cried and cried, but Santa grabbed her by the back of her hair, and threw her to the other side of the room. He then kicked Grace's body seven times.

"Stop it!" screamed Leigh. "You fucking bastard!"

"Oh, I'm gonna have fun killing you!" Santa yelled. "Right after I find out who you're working for!"

Leigh was still not listening to what he was saying. As she was examining her daughter's body, Joshua had been chained up to the radiator in the room, and Leigh was about to be chained up to the oven. The old woman in the room was tied up with her hands behind her back, and her feet were tied up. Santa obviously saw her as less of a threat.

"I'll be back shortly", said Santa. He pointed towards Joshua. "You'd better start thinking about telling me who you work for, because if you don't, I'll torture your mother in front of your eyes!"

"I don't work for anyone!" Joshua replied, still traumatised over the death of his sister.

Santa then dragged Alan into the room. He was still moving, but Joshua doubted that he knew where he was or what was happening. Santa then picked up a pointed star from the top of the Christmas tree and stabbed it through Alan's neck. He did it several times after that.

"Ho ho ho!" Santa cried as he stabbed the man constantly. "Ho fucking ho!"

Joshua screamed in horror as he watched his father bleed to death.



"Get in that room before I throw you in!" Santa cried. Sarah followed his instructions, shocked that he had not yet killed her.

It took a while for Sarah to work out that out of all of the bodies in the room, three were still alive, and the rest seemed to be dead. Now she knew where the smell came from. Santa left her there with the others. Leigh was staring at Grace, not responding to anything anyone else said. She had accepted that Grace was always just going to lie there, that she was not going to hold her daughter again, that she was never going to see her daughter get that bike she had wanted for the past six months.

"Not another one", the old woman said after Santa shut the door.

Sarah did not say anything. She was too shocked to say anything. Less than sixty seconds before, her best friend had been shot in the head, and she had done nothing about it.

"He's not chained you up", Joshua said. "You have to help us!"

Sarah saw the look in the small boy's eyes. He was not going anywhere, and Santa had made sure of that. The old woman and Joshua's mother had also been chained up, but Sarah had not. She then realised that she was the only one who could get them out of this nightmare.

"It's going to be your only opportunity", the aged lady said. She was wearing a Christmas outfit, like Mrs Claus, in fact.

"What do you want me to do?" Sarah asked.

"There is only one thing to do", replied the woman. "As soon as he comes in, you have to bounce on him. Hit him where it hurts. Do something, or else he'll kill us off one by one. He's killed that girl over there, so he's capable of killing any of us".

Sarah knew that what the woman was saying was correct. Out of the four of them, she was the only one in a fit enough state to even stand a chance against this psychopath.

Before Sarah could think of anything else, Santa burst into the room again, and rammed himself straight into her.

"I've been listening to you cunts behind that door!" he screamed. "None of you are going to get away from me!"

Sarah fell back on top of Leigh, who still barely reacted. He repeatedly punched Sarah in the head until she was dazed, and then chained her to the oven next to Leigh.

"It's time to carve some turkey!" Santa exclaimed, pulling out a foot-long carving knife and letting out an insane hysterical laugh.

He looked at Leigh, who was now looking at Santa.

"It's your last chance, bitch", he said to her. "Who do you work for?"

"I...I..." Leigh said. Her voice faded away.

"That's it", he replied. He yanked Leigh by the legs and pulled down the jeans she was wearing. He then held the knife at the top of her leg.

Several hours ago, Joshua was excited and prepared to celebrate Christmas with his family, ready to wake up the next morning to a huge stack of presents. Since then, he had watched his father and sister get brutally killed, and was about to watch his mother be mutilated in front of his very eyes.

There was blood everywhere as the man in the red suit did it. Leigh screamed constantly, and tried to fight back, but nothing could be done. The others could only watch in horror as Santa moved the knife back and forth, as if carving a full turkey or a joint of pork. Only with this, there was blood splattering out everywhere.

Santa had managed to get through half of Leigh’s leg before giving up – it was too tough to get through any more. He opened it up proudly, and tore it apart even further, against all the agonised screams in his ear. He then stabbed Leigh in the mouth, and the knife went right through her throat and through the back of her head. She was killed almost instantly. Joshua screamed again, but no tears came out this time - he had cried enough in the last hour and a half.

"Eat it", Santa said, waving a lump of Leigh’s flesh around in Sarah's face.

"What?" Sarah asked him, shocked.

"You heard what I said!" cried Santa. "Tell me who you're working for, and you won't have to do it!"

Sarah still had no idea who he was talking about. She assumed it was some sort of spy agency, something that she did not know much about. This man had gone completely insane, and there was no way back for him now. Whatever she said to him would anger him, so she decided to remain silent.

Santa then shoved the piece of flesh into her mouth, and he forced her to chew it. She vomited several times, but eventually, she swallowed it. Santa then left them on their own.

After a while, someone in the room spoke.

"I'm going to try to get through to him", the old woman said.

"That won't do any good", Sarah replied.

"He's not had his medication", said the woman. "I know him".

"You know him?" asked Sarah.

"He's an old friend of mine who lives near here", the woman continued.

"You'd better tell us everything you know then", said Sarah, believing that there was a chance that any piece of information about this man could help.


December 24th, 7:15am

The sound of the alarm on the morning was not the most irritating sound in the world to Paul Gillespie, but he still hated it with a passion. Today was the last day, he thought. One more day, and he would gladly burn that red piece of shit on the fire as he waited for Santa to not come to his house that night. Nobody ever came to his house. It was just him, and he knew why.

Gillespie had been diagnosed with schizophrenia about ten years ago. It was no surprise to him. The voices in his head, many of which were Christmas related, were sinister, telling him that people were following him or wanting to kill him. Today was the fortieth anniversary of the worst day of Paul Gillespie's life. On Christmas Eve exactly forty years before, he had watched his parents die in an attack he still did not understand to this day. From what the police later told him, his father had gathered a large amount of debt from people from the top of the chain, and those were people you did not mess with. He had witnessed the whole thing, only surviving because he hid well under a large pile of washing. He could remember his father asking his killers who they worked for, and what happened next was bloodshed. His father's head was blown off, and his mother was shot in the neck. He got a look at his unsuspecting attackers, one of whom was female. From that day onwards, he trusted nobody. He had been twelve at the time.

After the deaths of his parents, he was placed in an orphanage, and later worked in one dead end job after another: cleaning toilets, handing out burgers in MacDonalds and dressing up as Santa at Christmas. He never married - never even dated, in fact. He lived a very solitary life and barely interacted with anyone else. He only managed to receive treatment for his mental illness because he knew himself that he was ill. The medication stopped the voices, and stopped the paranoid thoughts. Without it, however, there was no telling what could happen.

That morning, he could have sworn down that he had taken his medication, but because he was so tired from working nine hours in the Grotto the day before and extra bar work downtown for a further six hours, Gillespie was exhausted. Taking his medication was so routine that he did not realise he was doing it anymore. That morning, however, Gillespie woke up with a headache, and took two paracetamol. He did not take the medication. He put the paracetamol box back into the cupboard and continued with his day, not realising that he had forgot to take his medication as well.

By two in the afternoon, after working tirelessly with excited children all day, the paranoid thoughts started. They were not noticeable at first, but they were there. Gillespie did not even have the time to realise what was happening to him.

Mary Oliver, known to the local children as Mrs Claus for that day, knew Gillespie from town. Gillespie had been a cleaner in the pub she often went to with her husband, and her husband would often make conversation with Gillespie, although he would often shy away and only put on a polite face.

"It's busy today, isn't it, Paul?" Mary said to him. She could see that Gillespie was tired. She and the others who dressed up as elves were only the icing on the cake to these children, who wanted to see Santa and nobody else. She did not receive much attention, except when she offered them cakes and biscuits. The elves were only there for the entertainment aspect - they were in the back room, putting on a show as if they were making toys, such as small toy cars and dolls, which were given to the children who bothered to notice the extra room.

Throughout the day, Gillespie was getting more and more frustrated.

That woman is out to get me, he thought. It's the anniversary of my parents' deaths, and a special one. Something is going to happen tonight.

Mary offered him cakes, and he refused them. She could see his frustration and anxiety building, but she did nothing about it. She had children to see to.



Gillespie could take it no more. He was convinced that everyone in that grotto was out to get him. He could see Mary whispering to the others.

He grabbed the knife which was in the cottage, the knife which had been used to bake the cakes the day before. This knife was sharp, and would do the trick. Within a matter of seconds, Gillespie killed the five people in elf costumes, two of whom were seventeen, and another was a mother of three young children. He had slashed four of their throats before they had the chance to react, and returned to disembowel each of them. With the fifth, he smacked him across the head and later stabbed him through the neck. Mary, the only survivor, was left to live, at least for now. He stabbed her in the shoulder, and then cut her across her other arm. She screamed, and begged him to let her go, but of course, he did not listen. He demanded that he tell her who she was working for, but she would not satisfy his question with a reasonable answer.



"And you know the rest of the story", said Mary.

Sarah realised that Gillespie had probably also killed the reindeer outside, and threw its body on to her car himself. They were doomed to be in this place from the moment they decided to pass this street.

"Listen, I'm going to go for it", said Mary. "I'm by far the oldest, and I’ve lived a full life. I have the least to lose".

"How are you going to do it?" asked a curious Sarah.

"I'm going to head-butt him. I know it's a long shot, but it's better than just sitting here. If I can do something...maybe hurt him seriously in some way, I might just manage to knock him out and get the keys to these chains, or I can kill him and go and get help. We're ages away from the next building in sight, and it will take a while, but at least we'll get out alive".

"Our best shot is to wait until someone comes along", replied Sarah.

"And then what?" argued Mary. "They'll know that Santa Claus is a psychotic murderer? Nobody is gonna come here and save us. Nobody out there knows that this has happened. If someone else comes along, he'll lure them into the same trap".

"Then I don't have a better plan than yours", replied a disheartened Sarah.



Gillespie returned to the room suddenly, the small pistol in his hands. He looked at Mary and approached her.

"Mary, Mary", he said. "I bet your husband calls you fucking Virgin Mary!"

He burst out laughing. Mary only looked at him, her heart racing faster than it ever had been before. She prepared herself to attack him.

Gillespie pointed the gun at her forehead.

"You have one chance to tell me who you're working for, or you're dead", he said.

"Alright", Mary said. "I'll tell you, but I have to whisper it to you".

"Why do you have to whisper it?" asked Gillespie.

"Because I can't let them hear it", Mary replied, nodding her head towards Joshua and Sarah.

Gillespie only looked at Mary, confused.

"They don't know his name", said Mary, "and they can't know his name. He's watching us all the time. He knows we're here, and if they know I said his name out loud, they'll kill me and they'll come and kill you too".

"I'll just shoot them afterwards", Gillespie said, waving his gun in Joshua's direction.

"You don't understand", replied Mary. "It doesn't work like that. This's bugged. They're listening. I know his name, but nobody else does. I can't say it out loud because that would destroy him". Mary was surprised at the spontaneity in which she answered Gillespie's suspicions.

"You're gonna tell me then?" asked an excited Gillespie.

"You have to come closer", replied Mary. Her heart was already racing, but she thought she felt it race even faster.

Gillespie moved his head towards Mary's ear. That was when she struck him. Her forehead smacked the centre of his nose, causing it to bleed. She hit him a further three times with his head rapidly. He groaned in pain.

"KILL HIM!" screamed Sarah. "GET HIM NOW!"

The pistol flew out of Gillespie's hand and landed next to Grace. Gillespie held hold of his nose and Mary launched herself upwards, using all the strength she had. She then forced her entire weight on to Gillespie's testicles, constantly smacking her head off them. Gillespie screamed, but he grabbed Mary's hair and yanked her up. Mary struggled as much as she could, but she knew it was over. He had hold of her whole body by now, and he carried her through to the living room. He then forced her down on to the fire. He held her face there.

"Let's sing a song, shall we?" Gillespie said. Mary's face was buried in the burning log. Her hair was on fire.

"Chestnut's roasting on an open fire, Rudolph nipping at your nose", Gillespie sang. Mary continued to scream in agony. Her eyes had been burned out, and the outer layer of the skin on her face was long gone. Sarah and Joshua could only listen to what was happening, knowing that they now faced a similair fate. That one opportunity they had was gone.

"Let's try another one", Gillespie said, acknowledging that Mary was now dead. He walked over to the tape recorder which had been playing music all day.

"My favourite", Gillespie said. The song, "Merry Christmas Everybody" by Slade played. He started to dance to the music and entered the back room again, where he saw Sarah and Joseph cowering in fear.

"Get into the Christmas spirit!" Gillespie cried. "It only comes round once a year!"

"You sick fucking bastard!" screamed Sarah.

"So here it is Merry Christmas, everybody's having fun!" cried Gillespie. He then left the room and came back in ten seconds later with an ornament of a shepherd. He approached Sarah and smacked her across the face with it. He smacked her three more times until she fell down.

"I'm just gonna keep doing it until you die, you evil bitch!" cried Gillespie.

"Look who's talking", replied Sarah, barely able to get her words out.

"The police are gonna get you for this!" yelled Joshua, who had more or less accepted that he was going to die. "They'll put you in prison forever!"

"I don't give a shit!" replied Gillespie, "and don't worry. Right after this lesbian slut is dead, you're next, and I'm gonna make it slow and painful for you!"

Gillespie continued to smack the ornament off Sarah's head, making each hit harder than the last. She was unconscious now, but Gillespie was not convinced that she was dead. He would only stop when her brains were splattered across the floor.

Suddenly, a shot rang out. It missed Gillespie, but the shot was fired again and it hit him in the stomach. To Joshua's shock, Grace was still alive. Her legs appeared to have been broken, which explained the cracking sound earlier, but she was alive. Grace fired the gun again and hit Gillespie in the chest. She fired again, and hit him in the stomach again. Grace pulled the trigger a fifth time, but no bullets flew out. All shots had been used up.

"Die!" screamed Joshua.

Gillespie fell down on top of him, but Joshua managed to push him off. Gillespie was still alive, and he punched Joshua repeatedly in the face. Grace then threw the pistol, which hit Gillespie in the back of the head. It gave him a shock, which gave Joshua the opportunity to pick up the metal gun and swing it onto the side of Gillespie's forehead. Gillespie fell down, and Joshua did not stop. He used the gun to assault Gillespie a further fifty times, and by the end of it, Gillespie's head was so mangled he would not be able to be identified immediately.

Joshua approached his sister and hugged her.

"They're dead", she cried.

"But you're not", replied Joshua.

They remained there all night, traumatised by what had happened. They were too scared to move anywhere else. Morning came, and Sarah woke up. She had planned to wake up that morning to a pile of a few presents under her Christmas tree. Instead, she woke up to a pile of a few dead bodies, and two terrified and badly beaten children. At first she was confused, but she remembered what had happened. She was the one to go and get help, even if it was a long struggle.

Later that day, Joshua wondered why Gillespie had done such a thing. The police later explained to him that Gillespie was a schizophrenic. Joshua did not know exactly what schizophrenia was, but he was sure that it must have taken a horrific, traumatic event to make Gillespie do something like that. He still wondered why Gillespie asked the question, "who do you work for?"

© Copyright 2019 declan smith. All rights reserved.

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