Merry FUCKING Christmas

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
So I realized some of my stories are pretty messed up..

Submitted: February 10, 2012

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Submitted: February 10, 2012

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A late Christmas story, I wrote at my moms job in under thirty minutes. It sucks. 

It was Christmas night, and like every night such as this I couldn’t sleep. Damn winter solstices making the day so long, I have been wondering around my neighborhood for about a couple hours after trying and failing to go to sleep. Sighing, wondering where I was I found myself in a park, where to my surprise, there were kids; probably no older than 6 or 7, playing, and yelling about how ‘Santa’ was going to leave them a bunch of presents this years. Hearing this, a wide smirk painted itself a cross my face like it always did when a devious plan came to mind. I started towards them as the wind played with naturally long, dark red hair. Before I made it all the way there the kids noticed me, and asked if I wanted to play with them. I smiled at how some kids these days were nice to let anyone join their games.
 

“No.” I quietly and bluntly replied to their request they frowned in disappointment but found some reassurance once I said “But...” and looked at me with excitement.
 

“You kids would like to hear a story, wouldn’t you?” 
 

“What’s it about?” A rather large kid with glasses screamed to me, as he plopped some chips in his mouth.
 

“Yeah! Is it a fairytale? Is it nice? Is it a true story?” Two girls asked in the same tone of voice in a chorus asked me.
A rather wider smirk grew across my face as I brushed my long, straight bangs back into my hair, only to be in vain for they fell back into my eyes as I replied. “Rest assured kids, it’s; in some would same “nice” and it is no fairytale. Every word I’m about to speaks is quite true. It’s about the one Santa.”
The kids screamed with joy, annoying the hell out of me, but I managed to hide the quick grimace I made with a fake, friendly smile.
 

“Now, you’ve all heard the song ‘Santa clause is coming to town, no?”
They all replied with a yes, while some tried to sing: “He knows when you’re a wake, he knows when you’re asleep. He knows when you’ve been naughty or nice.”
 

“Ahh, good,” I said with as my smile grew wider.
 

“Now, let me start with that song is a complete lie.” I said bluntly. Trying to add to the affect which worked in my favor as the kids asked why with sad faces, some maybe even about to cry.
 

“To hide the true meaning behind that song, people from a long time ago made up to hide the true events to everything.”
 

“What events?” They all asked.
I smiled, in thoughts I was happy to how kids were so curious at this age.
“Why, the fact that Santa is not who you think he is. The song has a hidden message to it that everyone knows except children,” The kids stared at me in confusion but also with the look of wanting to know more, feeding off their fear I continued. “Santa was a serial rapist.” I bluntly said,
 

“What’s that?” A girl asked.
 

Before I could explain the larger kid took the liberty: “It’s when a big scary guy forces you into doing weird things you don’t want to.”
 

“That sounds scary.” She replied hiding behind another girl.
 

“It is,” I said. “And it hurts a lot.” She hid further behind her, “That’s not true! Santa was a good man!” She countered. I laughed.
 

“Good? Listen, he knows when you’re a wake, so he knows when you’re sleeping,” I said, the kids starred as if starting to understand, but by their faces they didn’t understand completely. I sighed.
 

“Think about it, probably the fattest man alive breaks into your house, and you think he only comes to leave you presents? No. That’s just his way of saying he can’t wait to see you again. No, while you sleep he uses his magic to put you deeper to sleep. And does whatever he pleases. You’ll never know, you why?”
The kids asked why, eating it all up, some hiding behind others and other shaking in their boots. I think the large one wet himself as he dropped his bag of chips, all his attention on me, probably not even noticing yet.
 

“Because your parents will never tell you. Ask them, they’ll call me crazy, insane, they’ll say I’m just trying to scare you. Ask them. That’s exactly what they’ll say, trying their best to talk you into believing I’m lying,” I drew a breath coming to a conclusion, as the kids watched me intensely, I watched as they drew tears finding out a man they loved and believed in so much was all a lie. Kids, I sighed, will believe anything they’re told once a friendly looking stranger comes along and implies the truth.
 

“Kids, I would run home, stay away from your parents, and don’t sleep, because once you’re a sleep. It’s all over for your night because once you awake you won’t remember a thing of the night and you’ll be buried away from the truth. They say it’s after your seventh Christmas that you’ll never have another night. You know why? Because it’s after the seventh year that you know everything, and he steals you. He gives you to his ‘trusty’ elf slaves and they’ll do what they wish. Some will stab nails through each of your finger nails and vital spots for a slow, painful death, and some will use you as reindeer feed, and feed you to the reindeer alive, they say each bite is like 10inch knives going through your flesh and if you’re lucky, some will just use you as pets to build toys while they laze around and drink until their brains drop.” I said, coldly, and intensely, so intense that the kids ran home, screaming and crying, probably peeing their selves and won’t even know it until the next day, probably taking up my advice and going to stay up as long as possible until they’re certain Santa passed over their house because they weren’t asleep. But will probably lose it once they see a present for them left by the one man they now fear.
 

“Hmm,” I said turning around to go home, a smile across my face in content of my wrong deed. Making my way home, through the door and into my room, where my cat, Jolly waited for me, already asleep, making my way into my bed before going off to sleep, I finally concluded my night with the words. “I believe I’m going to go to hell.” And with that I fell asleep.


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