by Willow Rose
When the scraping suddenly turned into a voice, he felt safer. The voice was calling his name, whispering it, sounding like the wind blowing. Then, seconds later, a face peeked out from inside the chimney. It was facing upside down.
"Hello, Will," it said.
Will stood still, chewing on his pacifier. Will might only have been four years old, but he still knew a bad Santa when he saw one. And this was the one. This was the very same one he had seen earlier in the day, the one trying to hurt his mother with his hook. Will was not happy to see this bad Santa here in his house and, to be honest, it scared him, a lot.
The bearded man in the chimney peeking out smiled, then, suddenly, he was gone. Will gasped and stared at the spot where the face had been, then gasped once again, a little startled when the face came back, only to be gone a second later.
Then Will giggled. He knew this game. His mom played it with him often and both of them would always squeal with joy.
Santa was back and then gone again. Then he came back and was gone once again. Will's giggles turned into laughter and he forgot all about bad Santa and approached the chimney, trying to catch him as he disappeared again.
Where did he go?
"Peek a boo," Santa said and peeked his head out again.
Will laughed. He reached out to grab Santa, but he was gone again.
"Huh?" Will said looking at his empty hands, then at the chimney in front of him.
Where did he go?
Will heard a sound from inside the chimney, then decided he had to go up there. He crawled up into the fireplace, pulled himself inside, then peeked up into the chimney, trying hard to see Santa peeking inside the darkness. He reached his hand up to see if he could feel him, when the bad Santa grabbed his arm and held it tight, then pulled the boy up into the chimney.
70
I stormed down the beach. It was dark, so I didn't see the smoke coming from our chimney till I was on the porch. My heart literally stopped. I stormed inside the sliding doors. As I entered, I could hear what sounded like laughter, a deep rolling laughter.
The fire was lit in the fireplace. I ran to the kitchen, grabbed the fire extinguisher, and put it out. The fire spurted and fought back, but soon died. I then climbed inside, on top of the white foam, and looked up. I could see Will's little foot. I reached inside, grabbed him by the heel, and pulled. He didn't come down. He didn't even move. He was stuck and not moving.
This wasn't good.
Images of Tobin being pulled out of the fireplace, lifeless, emerged violently and made me cry in desperation. My cries awoke Sune.
"What's going on, Rebekka?" he asked and rolled slowly toward us, looking like he believed he was still dreaming.
"It's Will," I said, my voice breaking. "He's stuck. Inside the ch-ch-chimney."
"Oh, dear God," Sune said, his voice desperate. "How the heck did he get up there?"
"I don't know," I said. "I’m trying to get him down but he's not moving. I’m afraid of hurting him."
"Try to grab both his feet and wiggle him slightly," Sune said, rolling his chair closer. "I'll call 911."
I tried. The boy moved a little but it wasn't enough to get him down. My arm was hurting and I had to stop pulling. "I can't," I said.
"The kids," Sune said, then rolled to the stairs. "Julie, Tobias!"
They rushed down to us, their eyes concerned.
"It's Will," I said. "He's stuck. We can't get him out. You're smaller."
"Let me," Julie said and stepped forward. She crawled into the fireplace, stuck her head up in the chimney, grabbed Will's leg further up, and pulled, hard. I cringed, worrying both that Julie might get hurt and that all that pulling might hurt William.
"Argh," she said. "He's stuck."
"Try wiggling him a little," Sune said.
Julie did. "He's still not coming down."
Julie came out and I went back inside to try again. I sensed Julie had made him looser and he was easier to wiggle now. I pulled his leg but still nothing. I screamed in frustration, knowing my boy was probably getting suffocated up there. I started to cry, then screamed again in anger, grabbed both of my boy's legs, and pulled with all my might, yelling and screaming, not caring that my arm hurt like crazy and the stitches were coming loose, springing like buttons on a shirt ripped open. Blood was gushing out from my wound, but my boy was moving, slowly coming loose. I panted and laughed as his small body came closer and closer, and soon fell into my painful arms.
Julie came to fetch him and pull him out, and I was about to get out myself, when suddenly something reached down from inside the chimney behind me, grabbed my ankle, and pulled me up forcefully.
71
I was screaming and kicking. Outside the chimney, I could hear the kids' terrified screams. Whatever was pulling me was very strong and I went into the chimney fast, hitting my head on the soot-covered sides. I was pulled up far, so far that I could no longer see the bottom, then the pulling stopped and I realized I was stuck. Whatever had grabbed my foot now let go, and I couldn't move. My wound had opened further and blood gushed out of it, dripping down into the fireplace beneath me. I was starting to feel dizzy, maybe from losing blood or maybe from the lack of air inside the chimney. I felt like I could hardly breathe.
A face appeared beneath me. The face of Santa crawling up toward me, his long arms and legs clinging to the sides of the brick chimney like a daddy longlegs spider.
"Let me go," I said. "Please."
"Sorry," Santa said, grinning, rushing toward me. "No can do. No can do. No can do. No, ma'am."
He was right in front of me, opening his mouth, his red eyes glowing in the darkness, lighting up the chimney with a creepy red light, his teeth glistening in that light, his long sharp teeth. He was grinning from ear to ear, moving so close I could smell him now, smell his minty candy cane breath.
He crawled up to me, spotted the bare skin on my neck, and leaned over. I felt his teeth as they pricked against my skin when suddenly there was an earthquake. The entire chimney shook and then it exploded. Exploded in a mass of bricks and dirt and soot all around me and I started to fall toward the ground. I screamed and landed on top of a pile of bricks. Then I felt hands on me and was pulled out of it.
When I came to myself, the first thing I saw was Julie holding Will in her arms. He was awake and clinging to his big sister. Next, I spotted Sune, the ax from the garage in his hand. He was in a fight with Santa, who was growling and snapping his teeth at him, crawling around on his long skinny arms and legs.
Sune swung the ax and hit the monster right in his throat, chopping his head off, and it flew across the living room. All the kids screamed while Sune jumped to avoid being struck by Santa's long nails, as he was still moving, despite the chopped off head.
Sune swung the ax once again and split the Santa right down the middle, then swung it again and again till Santa was nothing but chopped up pieces, hissing and growling as they lay on the carpet, slowly fading out, becoming colorless, then turning to dust, a dust that soon dissipated completely.
I swallowed hard and looked at Sune as he was panting, yet, triumphantly, he looked at me with the ax still between his hands.
"Sune," I said.
He looked at me.
"You're standing. On your feet."
As I said it, Sune realized what had happened and sunk to the ground, landing on his knees. The kids ran to him and carried him back up into his chair. "I…I didn't think," he said. "I just got so scared and sprang for the ax when you were pulled up into that thing. Then I started to tear it down. I’m so sorry I didn't believe you, Rebekka. I’m so, so sorry."
"It's okay," I said. "I think you killed it. I think it's gone now. We did it, Sune. You and me, babe."
He laughed and the kids joined us in a major group hug.
Epilogue
Chapter 72
Christmas Eve, we ate our duck dinner, the way Danish people do, and danced around the Christmas tree. Sune took one round with
us, supported by me till he could stand no more and had to get back to his chair. Since the night when we had killed the monster in the living room, we had visited with doctor Herman again and told him how Sune had suddenly gotten out of his chair when realizing he had no choice, and the doctor had nodded happily and told us this was exactly what he had been waiting for. He also said that with the rate things were going, he was certain he could have Sune walking within the next year.
If Sune kept improving the way he was.
But that meant he had to come in several times a week for training and that also meant we had to stay here in Florida. I had called home and talked to Jens-Ole. He had told me he could allow for me to take a year of leave, but I had to promise that I would come back because he couldn't run the paper without me.
"We have no stories when you're gone, Rebekka. I don't know what to put in the paper."
I made the promise, then hung up, wondering if I could get a job over here writing for some magazine. Or maybe another European paper would hire me to write stories over here. So far, I had managed to sell the story of the killer-Santa to a paranormal magazine here in the States and the money I got from that would help us out for a couple of weeks. There was also the issue of visas if we were going to stay here for more than three months. And if I was going to work, I needed a work visa.
Finally, there was the issue of my dad. He had given us his blessing to stay but told us he wouldn't be able to come and be with us since there was no way he would be able to cope with the long flight. I promised I would come visit often and bring the kids as often as I could.
There were a lot of things I would have to look into as soon as Christmas was over, but for now, I was determined to enjoy my holiday with my family and especially with Sune, who was getting closer to getting back to being himself. He had regained hope, and hope was everything.
He smiled and kissed me, then sat down while the rest of us continued the caroling and dancing, hand in hand around the tree. William soon got tired of the dancing too and sat on his father's lap, while the big kids and I sang one more song before we gave in too and sat down.
We looked at the beautiful tree in front of us and then at the broken chimney next to it. There were still bricks all over the floor and soot and dirt, but we had managed to gather it all into a pile while waiting for the owners to fix it. So far, they had covered the open parts of it with a tarp. I had put in a request to stay for a longer period of time, but they hadn't answered yet. I was hoping that us destroying the chimney wasn't going to be a problem. We had promised we'd pay for it.
As is the Danish tradition, the kids received their presents on Christmas Eve, and they started to unwrap them. William shrieked with joy when he found his iPhone. Yes, I had caved and bought him one, under the condition that he gave me the pacifier and never asked for it back. He had finally agreed to it, and now he was staring at the new phone between his hands with gleaming eyes. I felt like a terrible mother for letting my young boy have a phone, but no one is perfect, right?
I, for one, am not.
William thanked me and kissed me when I heard caroling coming from outside. I opened the door and found detective Jack Ryder along with what I could only assume had to be his wife and five children. I had heard that he was married to some famous country singer, but since I wasn't into that type of music, I couldn't tell her apart from anyone else, but I could hear that she sang beautifully.
"Merry Christmas," Jack Ryder said when the song was over. "We're trying out a new tradition, singing to people in the neighborhood to spread a little Christmas cheer."
"It was very beautiful," I said. I hesitated for just a second, then added: "Don't you want to come in?"
Jack and his wife looked at one another, then she shrugged.
"Why not?"
I looked at Sune to make sure it was okay and he nodded. "Yes, come on inside. We have loads of cookies and candy."
Jack Ryder smiled, ran a hand through his long blond hair, and they came inside. I had met up with him during the week and told him the entire story. He had even read my article. I wasn't sure he believed it fully, but I still had the stitches in my arm to prove it. I didn't need him to believe me to know what happened. I still shivered when thinking about it.
"This is Shannon," Jack said and pointed at the beautiful woman that he was obviously very proud to be with.
I shook her hand. "Good to meet you," I said. "Now, you'll have to please excuse us, but the living room is quite a mess. Our chimney sort of broke."
"Then Santa won't be able to find you?" one of Jack's twins, Austin said, slightly worried.
I looked at him and smiled.
"We sure hope not," I said, closing the front door. "We sure hope not."
THE END
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Afterword
Dear Reader,
Thank you for purchasing Better Not Cry. For those of you who haven't read Better Watch Out, this story is sort of a sequel to that one. It is a short story featuring Sara Andrews telling her story to Dr. Hahn. It was while writing the short story that I came up with the idea to continue this storyline in a real novel. Also, because so many of you readers asked me to tell more.
Now, the idea of a bad Santa or Santa being evil came from my two young girls. They used to always say they found Santa very creepy, with him looking at us while we're sleeping and all. And once we went to the mall and there was a Santa there and we got up to him and they sat on his lap. In the end, he wanted them to kiss him on his cheeks while Mrs. Claus took pictures of them that we could buy afterward. Both the girls and I found it a little too creepy and I knew I had to write about it one day.
It was fun to write about Rebekka again and I guess she and her family will be in Florida for a little while. And now they are becoming friends with Jack Ryder and his family. I have a feeling we might see more of that combination in the future.
As always, I am grateful for all your support. Don't forget to leave a review if you can.
Take care,
Willow
Girl Divided, excerpt
For a special sneak peak of Willow Rose's Bestselling Sci Fi Novel Girl Divided turn to the next page.
Prologue
Chapter 1
Even the people starting the fire probably could never foresee the havoc and destruction it would cause. Maybe they could and maybe they wanted it. Maybe that was why they did it. But, then again, do people really want war? Or does it just happen?
The people of the Calvary Temple Baptist Church, who met in the red wooden building on Alvin Callender Street in the heart of New Orleans, certainly never thought of this bright and unusually hot Sunday morning as a turning point in history when they arrived at church just before ten o'clock as usual.
To them, it was a Sunday like every other.
Well, that isn't entirely the truth. Something was very different this morning, something that had all the churchgoers’ attention, but it wasn't something they spoke about out loud. Instead, they whispered as they passed, or stared at Tiffany from the pews in front of her with curious eyes and some anxiety.
Tiffany knew they were staring and whispering behind her back, but she cared very little. She loved her newborn baby girl, no matter if people talked and whispered about her freakish appearance. It was, after all, not her fault that she looked the way she did.
How could anyone act like this toward a young child?
Next to Tiffany sat Gregory, her husband. He was sighing and rubbing his forehead, partly because of the heat, but mostly because he was not enjoying the many stares and glances falling upon him, wondering, could he really be the father? How could they have had a little girl like that, being as they were both black? How had they had a child that was half white and half of color?
But the child was his. Tiffany had assured him repeatedly. She had not
been with another man. No one could explain why the girl looked like this. Not even the doctors. Maybe it was a lack of melanin, they stated. But no one knew for certain what caused it. There had been records of children with one blue and one brown eye before, but never of one having one entire side of their face and body white, the skin and hair as white as snow, and the other side black and dark as the night.
But that was the way Jetta was. And Tiffany loved her just the same.
"Let's close our eyes and pray," Pastor Lawrence said.
Tiffany did, holding baby Jetta close to her chest while she slept. Only three weeks old and she was the dearest thing. Tiffany had heard so many stories of how the baby would ruin her sleep, but there had been nothing of that sort from Jetta. She had been sleeping…well, like a baby…ever since birth and never fussed much. The quietness along with her appearance had made Tiffany's mother anxious.
"The child is evil, I tell ya," she said, spitting on the floor. She was trying to drive out the demon in her whenever Tiffany wasn't looking. "I can smell it on her skin. Death and decay from the pit of hell. Still smells burnt. She is sent here to destroy us all, I tell ya."
"She is no such thing," Tiffany had told her, laughing even though she was slightly anxious. Her mother had always believed in all that old superstition. Growing up in New Orleans, Tiffany had listened to it all her life. All the nonsense about the spirits and gods walking among us, but Tiffany never quite bought into any of it. Still, when you have listened to things like that your entire life, you never can stop wondering, what if? What if there is something to what she is saying?
"Nonsense," Tiffany had told her repeatedly. Not just to convince her mother, but also her worried self.
