Collected Christmas Horror Shorts (Collected Horror Shorts Book 1)

by Tim Curran

  He smiled and chuckled to himself, as he started to saw off the little girl’s hands, knowing she would never open another Christmas present ever again.

  * * *

  After stuffing another set of hands into his pockets, he leaned down close to the older of the two kids and took a good look. If he had to guess; he’d say she was probably either a senior in high school or a freshman in college, home for winter break. At first, he got so close to her face that he felt the tip of the girl’s cold nose against his. He lifted his head away a bit so they weren’t touching any longer and then took his free, left hand, and slowly pulled the heated blanket off her body, piling it down by her feet.

  Even though she was the older of the two girls, she was still dressed from neck to toe in long, green pajamas. He tried to think of the name of the new blanket-like invention where you could literally have your entire body zipped inside a blanket, however, at this very moment the name escaped him. But, it didn’t matter. Not really. It would soon be off her, anyway. Then he would show her how people in the world--rich, spoiled people like her--always treated people like him.

  The true outcasts, the little people, the elves of society.

  * * *

  Even though she was way past the age of believing in Santa Claus, Crystal had dreams of sugar plums dancing in her head as she slept. Sure, she kept up with the myth of Santa for her little sister, Susie, but she definitely didn’t believe any more. But, in her dream world, where everything was always perfect, Santa did exist and he brought her, not a shiny sled or a new Barbie doll with long, golden locks, but the hot stud quarterback on her college’s football team - and he was all tied up in a red bow, just for her. She had the wet dream of waking up Christmas morning and seeing that Santa had delivered her ultimate present, Jake, and he was waiting for her, only her, under her parent’s Christmas tree. She would run over to him, throwing her little sister out of the way, and tackle him like a linebacker, wanting to plant his ass into the ground. Then, suddenly she was naked, except for a red stocking hat with a big, white fluffy ball at its end, and it kept hitting her in the sides of the face, as she rode him like a reindeer wearing a saddle.

  As Crystal climaxed, she awoke.

  At first the room was too dark for her eyes, but soon they adjusted to the dim light from the moon coming in through the curtained window.

  Then she saw a man, a big man dressed all in red, leaning down only inches from her face. He looked like Santa, but since she didn’t believe in St. Nick, she knew it wasn’t the real McCoy. Besides, she didn’t see a stump of a pipe held tight in his teeth nor the smoke that would be coming from it encircling his head like a wreath.

  Her eyes shot open wide and she tried to scream. But, her cries of terror were cut off by the big man slamming a big, gloved hand down upon her face. She shook her head back and forth but it was no use. She tried to kick her legs this way and that, but they wouldn’t move. She was stuck. Done for. And she didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t sure if it was the holiday spirit or a never-dying love in her heart, but all she cared about right now was to know her sister was ok. She didn’t care what Santa (not that this fat man was the real deal), did or didn’t do to her, as long as Susie was safe. Crystal wanted to ask, to beg, for ‘Santa’ to tell her that he hadn’t harmed Susie, but she had no way of doing so. The fact of the matter was, if the big man kept the pressure over her mouth and nose any longer, she was going to pass out. Then she’d have no idea what ever happened to Susie, or even her parents for that matter, because the man would probably end up raping and killing her somewhere outside on top of a pile of cold, white snow. She could picture in her head the man raping her, then slipping a long, cold blade deep within her belly, until she couldn’t plead or beg at all.

  Crystal closed her eyes and waited for death. She knew she was done for and there was no reason to fight someone so much bigger and stronger than her, so she just gave up. Crystal felt a lone tear form in the corner of her closed, right eye, and felt it then run off her face, onto her pillow.

  Then the pressure from the big man’s hand disappeared.

  After what seemed like forever, Crystal slowly opened her eyes and noticed that the big man was now gone like the last wisp of smoke from a snuffed candle.

  She quickly climbed out of bed to check on her little sister.

  And that’s when she let out a blood-curdling scream.

  * * *

  He was already loading up gifts from under the twinkling tree and stuffing them into his already full sack when he heard a scream coming from upstairs.

  Now I’ve got something to dread. He knew he should have finished the girl off, just like he had done to her parents and sister, but there was just something about her that he couldn’t bring himself to slice and dice her like all the others, tonight. As he continued to load the last of the presents into the already bulging sack, he felt a stir in his heart. Something strange was happening, though he couldn’t quite put a finger on it, nor did he have the time to do so.

  The pounding of footsteps from above and another scream made him turn his head with a jerk towards the staircase. Yes, she would be coming downstairs next and that would probably mean she would run to the phone and call the police. He definitely didn’t need that. Oh, no. Not on a night like tonight – the Eve of the happiest day of the year.

  Jerking the rope on the sack to close it, he hurried over to the fireplace. He heard the girl start down the stairs and knew he had to work fast.

  He pulled the knife from his belt with his right hand and reached under his heavy coat with his left. He pulled six nails off a chain that was hanging around his neck and placed them pointed end into his mouth. He looked through the near-darkness to the staircase and saw a blur jump from the third to last step, turn, and then race to the back of the house, towards the kitchen where he assumed the phone was located.

  He quickly dug his free hand into his soggy, left pocket, and pulled out the first of the six hands he had stuffed inside.

  As he heard the girl started screaming, presumably into the phone to the police, he pointed the handle side of the knife away from him, and used it to start hammering each hand to the mantle of the fireplace.

  As he worked, he repeated the line he had said earlier, but changing the words a bit this time.

  The hands are hung by the chimney with care…in hopes that folks from everywhere far and wide will know that Christmas is the time to die! He laughed.

  He then raced to a window and threw up the sash and leaped into the night and was ready to run away fast…

  When something that felt like a sheet of snow coming from the roof smashed him to the ground.

  Suddenly, he was being pounded in the sides and back of his head by big, heavy fists. He was pinned to the ground by a great mass and the blows started to rock his head and jaw back and forth. He felt teeth begin to crack and his jaw begin to bust, as the onslaught continued, the bones in his head felt like they were going to turn to dust.

  * * *

  Crystal was wrapped in a large, Christmas tree-covered blanket, as the first of several police cruisers and other emergency personnel pulled up in front of the house and came running towards her. All at once they began shouting, “Did you see where he went?”, “Are you ok, miss?”, “What the hell happened here?” and the like and then they started to go about their business.

  When she was finished being treated by one very calm, and very good-looking young EMT, she heard something coming from above – on the roof. Her heart began to pound in her chest, as she jumped off the porch and ran into the front yard screaming, “He’s up there. He’s on the roof. I hear him…I hear him, damnit!”

  With a crime scene to secure, a killer on the loose and a growing crowd of neighbours coming out of their homes to see what was going on, no one seemed to be paying Crystal any attention.

  But then, Crystal noticed two things at once – a figure on the ground outside her living room window, lying in the middle
of a large patch of blood-soaked snow and a large, red figure standing up on the roof, waiving to her.

  She lifted her hand from underneath the blanket to do the same, but quickly put it back under. She didn’t want people to see her ‘waving to someone on the roof’ and think she was crazy, especially since that was probably what they were already thinking with her family being slaughtered and all. Besides, with everything that did happen she might very well be going crazy and seeing imaginary people, Santa Claus of all things, up on the roof.

  Crystal then thought she heard a clatter on the roof and a shout into the night.

  But, that was just another piece of the myth that she would keep inside, nice and tight, for the rest of her life.

  The End

  About the Author:

  Ty Schwamberger is an award-winning author & editor in the horror genre. He is the author of a novel, multiple novellas, collections and editor on several anthologies. In addition, he’s had many short stories published online and in print. Three stories, “Cake Batter” (released in 2010), “House Call” (released in June 2013) and DININ’ (optioned in July 2013), have been optioned for film adaptation. He is an Active Member of the International Thriller Writers.

  Learn more at http://tyschwamberger

  follow at @SchwambergerTy

  Killing Christmas

  By

  Andrew Lennon

  “Oh the weather outside is frightful, and the fire is so delightful.”

  The music pounded through Jeff’s head as he entered the discount shop. He looked around to see green and red and gold Christmas decorations hanging from every corner. An inflatable Santa stood guard in the doorway.

  “Really?” Jeff said to the person walking by him. “It was Halloween just a few days ago. They’re celebrating Christmas already?”

  The person gave him an awkward, halfhearted smile and continued with their shopping.

  “Well, at least it’s filling people with Christmas spirit,” Jeff mumbled to himself.

  He made his way through the aisles, collecting his various items. When he reached for his normal packet of Maltesers, he noticed that the usual pouch had been replaced with a box. Upon inspection, he saw that the contents had dropped from one hundred grams to seventy-five, although the price remained the same.

  “Bloody rip off, taking advantage of the holidays.”

  He walked to the till where a cashier stood wearing a green elf hat with a small bell on the end. “Still dressed for Halloween?” Jeff smiled.

  “No.” The cashier looked confused. “It’s Christmas.”

  “Yes, I know that, but it was only Halloween a few days ago. Don’t you think it’s a little bit early to be dressed as Santa’s little helper?”

  “Oh, if I could celebrate Christmas all year round I would.” She flashed a wide smile.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you would.” Jeff collected his items and left the shop.

  Biting into his sandwich, Jeff searched the internet for his normal lunchtime reading. At first, he checked the news, then he logged into his Facebook account. The first post on his news feed was a picture of Will Ferrell dressed as ‘Elf’, with the caption, “Only 50 more days until Christmas!”

  Jeff sighed. This bloody idiot hadn’t even checked before sharing this picture, or checked to see whether it was correct or not. It was now fifty-three days until Christmas. Nearly two months, and people were celebrating it already.

  “They’ll be sick of it by the time it gets here,” he mumbled.

  “What was that?” Chris, his colleague, asked.

  “Oh nothing. Just people celebrating Christmas already. Bit early, isn’t it?”

  “Come on, you're not a Grinch are you?’

  “No. I like Christmas, but I like it at Christmas time. We’ve only just finished with Halloween, for God’s sake.”

  “Come on, Jeff. Get into the spirit.” Chris got up and walked out of the office while singing at the top of his voice. “Tis the season to be jolly. Fa la la la la, la la la la!”

  “Are you frigging kidding’ me?” Jeff exclaimed.

  The nights had grown cold. It felt as if the temperature had plummeted overnight. Jeff walked home from his office while holding his coat around him to try to shield his body from the wind. The traffic along the road was stationary. A car blasted out the Band Aid song, ‘Do They Know It's Christmas’. Jeff rolled his eyes and shook his head, accepting the fact that he was going to be subjected to this music for the next two months. He used to enjoy the Band Aid song. Between that, and ‘Fairytale of New York’, they were probably his favourites, but after years of being overplayed, Jeff had grown to hate them. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he'd heard a Christmas song that he actually enjoyed. He ducked his head further down, in protection from the wind, and continued his walk.

  Entering his flat, Jeff stood on a pile of envelopes that had been posted through the door. He sighed at the fact that the top letters were now wet and muddy from his boots. He collected them and walked into the kitchen. He was surprised at the amount of mail he had received. Usually, he would get one or two letters a week. In his hand, he now held about twenty. He opened the first one and saw the heading: ‘Celebrate this Christmas by saving £10 when you spend over £100!’

  “Okay, that’s a shop I’ll never spend a hundred quid in. That’s going in the bin.”

  He opened the next one. ‘You can save…’

  Bin.

  The next one: ‘Please help us this Christmas by donating to…’

  “Jesus, they start cashing in early, don’t they?” he moaned.

  The next letter felt stronger, stiffer. He tore the envelope open to find a Christmas card. The picture on the front was a perfect example of consumerism Christmas today. There was no nativity scene, no Father Christmas, and no Christmas tree. There wasn’t even any snow. It was a picture of what looked like a spoiled, obese child, biting into a chocolate bar while tearing into another present. The other presents sat discarded, partly opened and neglected in a pile behind him. The look on the child’s face did not represent joy, or excitement. It was a look of utter greed, the kid indulging himself while waiting for the next item on their spoiled list.

  “We're living in a material world and that is a material little shit,” Jeff muttered.

  There were no words on the front of the card, just the picture of the grotesque child. Jeff opened it. The preprinted words read, “Warm Wishes.” The rest of the inscription, as written by the sender, said: ‘Dear Jeff, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas and it is full of joy and happiness. Love from Marcy and Gerald.’

  Confused for a while, Jeff held the card in his hand, wondering who the hell Marcy and Gerald were. Eventually it came to him. Marcy and Gerald Walters. They were his parent’s neighbours. He hadn’t spoken to them in over twenty years.

  “Okay. Nice thought, I guess. Still, a bit early.”

  After a quick scan of the other letters, it was clear that they were all from some company or charity trying to get money from him…in the natural Christmas way, of course. Now that the season had changed, it wasn’t just normal shopping and begging, it was ‘Christmas’ shopping and begging...it had meaning.

  After changing from his work clothes into his ‘The Simpsons’ pyjamas, Jeff made himself a microwave meal of chicken tikka masala and then sat in front of the TV. He grabbed the remote and started to flick through the channels. He always skipped channels one to five at this time of night because he didn’t like the evening news, game shows or awful soap operas. He skipped straight to the movie channels.

  “Oh, come on!” he shouted.

  All of the movie channels had changed their names. It was now ‘Christmas 24’, ‘Sky Movies Xmas’, and ‘The Christmas Network’. He turned the TV off and ate in silence. Usually, the silence made Jeff feel uncomfortable, but today it felt right to him. It matched his mood. As he was finishing his meal he could hear something coming from outside. It sounded like singing. He p
laced his dinner on the floor and walked over to the window. He tried to see along the road but his view was restricted. He opened the window and felt a blast of cold air caress his face from the strong wind outside. The wind brought in with it the voices from outside.

  “Glory to the new born king!” they sang.

  Jeff leaned out of the window. He could hear the singing so loudly it felt like it was the same room as him, but scanning the street up and down, he couldn’t see the source.

  “It’s only the beginning of November!” He shouted. “Shut the hell up!”

  The singing continued, not even missing a beat. Jeff felt angry, and although he knew that he shouldn’t be letting it get to him as much as it was, it just seemed relentless. No matter where he looked, there were Christmas decorations and celebrations. From mid-December, okay, even the first of December he could tolerate, but not this early. This was just stupid; carol singers in November, for God's sake. That topped the lot.

  Choosing to separate himself from the world, Jeff decided to download a book to his Kindle, and go to read it in bed. When the current list of bestsellers loaded up on his screen, Jeff’s anger grew. Once again, it was full of Christmas selections. Of course, the book at number one was ‘A Christmas Carol’. A classic, it was; Jeff had read it a few times and enjoyed it thoroughly, but November is not the time for a Christmas story. He searched for horror books and felt enraged when the top result was ‘A Christmas of Horror’.

  “Can’t even have a scary story without a fucking Christmas twist now!”