A Christmas to Remember: A Choose Your Own Horror Novel

by Matt Shaw

“What do you mean?”

  She slid the red top over her wet hair, covering herself up.

  “It’s wrong!” she said.

  “How’s it wrong? You’re my fucking wife!”

  “I’m seeing someone! We can’t do this! I’m sorry!”

  She turned and ran from the room. I was close to follow.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “I’m sorry!” she said once more - as though stuck repeating the same damning sentence.

  Down in the lounge she rushed over to the children and crouched down to their level, “Children - mummy has to go but I’ll see you tomorrow evening...”

  The children were upset their mother ran off like that, given they were expecting to have the whole day together, but were soon distracted by their presents and, half an hour later, they were sat enjoying their dinner - roast leg of Leon with potatoes and yorkshire puddings. After the actions of their dad, their Christmas wasn’t ruined and they never even learnt of what they had actually eaten. Their mother, on the other hand, had a lousy Boxing Day when she realised she had been dumped by her lover, Leon, who couldn’t even be bothered to return her calls or answer her text messages. A few more months of playing the field, she returned to her husband only to find he had settled down with someone else.

  ~ FIN

  I didn’t move. I just stood there, transfixed by how sexy she looked - the way her skin glistened from the wetness of the clothes. She realised I wasn’t moving and proceeded to remove her bra - keeping her eyes fixed firmly on mine.... my own gaze.... moving, when she dropped the bra on the floor, to her pert breasts and hard nipples.

  Hard?

  Cold or excited?

  Happy with the outcome of the morning?

  I didn’t dare move so she took the initiative and stepped towards me. She seemed in no hurry to put the red top on. I desperately wanted to hold her again but I didn’t dare reach out for her for fear of scaring her off.

  She took another step towards me, still looking me dead in the eye.

  “You look nervous,” she said.

  She isn’t joking. I have no idea what the fuck is happening. When the day started - I knew where it was going. Knew. I never once thought it would go in this direction.

  She reached her hand out and took hold of mine before placing it on her breast. I forgot how good they felt. Forgot how good they looked.... felt.... How could I have forgotten this? So busy hating her for what she’d done.

  I pulled her close and kissed her on the lips.

  A deep, slow, passionate kiss.

  I felt myself harden as I pulled her closer.

  Meanwhile, she undid the buttons on her trousers and awkwardly stepped out of them with my body pressed hard against hers.

  My hands, roaming down to her buttocks.

  I bit her neck and she sighed.

  Moved my head further south and kissed her breasts as she moaned in pleasure...

  “Wait a minute,” she said as she took a step away from me. “What about the kids?”

  “What about them?” I asked - pulling her close to me once more.

  “They might come up.”

  I stopped and listened; the sound of playing coming from the lounge.

  “We’ll be quiet,” I said.

  You decide what happens next!

  The husband and wife continue their steamy encounter

  He agrees it’s a good idea to stop there and checks on dinner

  He suddenly panics

  Regardless of the mixed feelings and confusion running through my body, I turned my attention back to the dinner. I need to put aside all the thoughts of what’s happening between my wife and I - they aren’t important. I’ve come this far, I need to concentrate on the game plan for the day. The original plan.

  A quick look in the oven and the potatoes have crisped up nicely. All I need to do now is mix up some gravy granules and carve the meat before I dish up. Can’t be that tricky. Have to say, though, I’m not entirely looking forward to the carving of the meat. Maybe it’s because I know what it is.

  “Want a hand?” asked my wife as she stepped up, behind me.

  A kind offer but one I had to decline, “No, thank you. You might as well go and sit with the kids,” I told her. “Not as though there’s a lot of room in here...”

  “Okay.” She took hold of some drinks, for the kids, and walked through to the lounge - leaving me to carve the meat.

  I figured it would be safer to have her out of the room. Didn’t want her questioning the meat as I cut it from the bone. Not entirely sure I’m not going to be able to gag when I cut it. After all, it’s not every day your carve up human meat.

  I don’t think I’ll be putting a lot on my plate. I’m a little annoyed I have to put any one, to be honest. Much sooner eat a plate of roast potatoes for dinner. Have to, though. Can’t get away with not eating it if I expect them to eat it too.

  Just trying to remember how my life ended up at this point.

  I took the lid off the pot and took a hold of the meat, by the top, before placing it onto the cutting mat. Despite what it is - it does smell good. Looks good too. All things considered. Probably helped by the fact, when I put it into the oven, I sprinkled herbs onto it.

  I reached into the drawer, on my left hand side, and pulled out my carving knife set - a fork to stick into the top of the meat, to keep it in place, and a large, extra sharp knife.

  “Smells good,” my wife called through, “are you sure you don’t need a hand with anything?”

  “I’m good, thank you...”

  I stuck the fork into the top of the thigh and ran the carving knife down the entire length - so as not to hit any bone. As the first piece of succulent meat flapped away from the bone, I couldn’t help but gag a little. It’s a little bit pink inside... perhaps I should have left it in the oven that little bit longer...

  A few more cuts and I started to get more used to it.

  Okay, I can handle this.

  It helps that it smells so good and looks so.... well... doesn’t look much like a thigh anymore. Least - not a human one.

  I stopped and stepped back - leaving the fork sticking from the top of the meat and the carving knife on the cutting board. What am I doing? I’m about to feed a human thigh to my kids. Can I get away with it? Can I really make them do this? I know it won’t kill them and they’ll never know but... even so... I’ll know...

  I have to do it, don’t I? Surely I’ve come to far now? I can’t turn back.

  I turned to the lounge and approached my wife and children...

  You decide what happens next!

  He tells them dinner is about to be served

  He tells them dinner is ruined

  He panics

  “It’ll be okay,” I reassured her as we both listened to the kids happily playing downstairs. She walked over to the bedroom door and pushed it to.

  “We’ll have to be quick...”

  ‘I don’t think that will be a problem,’ I thought.

  I undid my belt and dropped my trousers, and boxers, to the floor where I stepped out of them - freeing my erection in the process. Seconds later and my top was on top of the growing pile of clothes too. My wife walked back over to me and placed her hands on my erection before she leant in for another long, passionate kiss. All the anger and hostility I felt towards her - dissipating with every passing second. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed her.

  Whilst kissing her, I pushed her back onto the bed and froze.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as she moved her way up the bed, until her head was on the pillow.

  I smiled, “Nothing.”

  To think, at the start of the day, I was adamant cutting her head off was the smart move. Now I’m not so sure. I climbed onto the bed and softly kissed my way up her legs... gentle kisses on her inner thigh... I moved to her pussy.... the sweet scent that I’d missed so much... a flick of my tongue on her clitoris... the taste... she sighed in pleasure as I teasingl
y kissed her again before continuing to kiss my way up her body until we were, once again, face to face.

  “I’ve missed you,” I said.

  She raised her finger and pressed it against my lips - shushing me up in the process. Why didn’t she say it back? With her other hand, she took a hold of my hard penis and guided it between her legs - a heavy sigh, from both of us, as I thrust forward, pushing myself in as deep as I could go.

  I closed my eyes in ecstasy. It had been so long since I felt the warmth of a woman... the slippery wetness...

  “That feels so good,” I moaned.

  “Don’t talk...” she whispered.

  I started to gently slide in and out - the delightful feeling taking away my breath with each stroke... gradually getting faster and faster.... the pair of us trying to keep our moans of pleasure to a minimum despite the creaking bed-springs threatening to give the game away.

  Her nails clawed at my back causing me to wince a little, as I nibbled her neck before moving to meet with her lips for another deep, passionate kiss.

  It had been too long, “I can’t take much more,” I warned.

  No sooner had I said the words did I feel the once-familiar feeling of the orgasm building. Starting with a tingling sensation in the tops of the legs before a hard shuddering sensation as I ejaculated deep inside of her.

  “SHIT!” I shouted as the power of the orgasm caught me off guard. I couldn’t be blamed - it had been stored for a while now. Can’t remember the last time I had sex.

  “Ssh!” my wife hissed again, trying hard not to laugh.

  I pulled out of her and rolled onto my side in a crumpled heap of mess.

  “I’m sorry,” I laughed. “It’s been a while.”

  My wife climbed from the bed and reached for her underwear and trousers.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “We can’t stay in bed, the kids are downstairs...”

  “A few minutes longer, they’re fine!”

  She shot me a look. Clearly she wasn’t going to be swayed on this.

  You decide what happens next!

  He talks about a future together

  He takes his wife’s lead and checks on dinner

  My wife turned to me - a look of concern on her face, no doubt caused by my own concerned expression.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I’ve ruined dinner. Left the meat in the oven too long. It’s inedible.”

  I can’t bring myself to let my children eat it. Even my wife... I feel strange about where we’re headed. I can’t help but think - maybe it’s not over between us. Maybe there is a chance everything could go back to normal.... If I let her carry on and eat the dinner... open her presents... there’s no turning back from that. I certainly couldn’t let her leave the house. Not after seeing the presents.

  In the long-run - we may well end up back here, in this position but I’m not ready to give up on everything just yet. It doesn’t feel as though it’s definitely the end for us. It feels as though there’s a chance. A small chance that everything may just work out for us.

  We could be a family again.

  “So after the big song and dance of having us over... not wanting to ruin Christmas for the children... you couldn’t even get the dinner sorted for them? For us?”

  I didn’t say anything. Part of me felt as though it would have been better to tell her the truth but - the sensible part of me - already told me that meant it would have been over for us. Especially for me.

  “I’m sorry, I could put some nuggets in the oven?”

  “You know what - forget it - this whole idea was stupid... Come on, kids...”

  “What?”

  She grabbed the kids, who were confused as to what was going on, and dragged them towards the front door.

  “Come on,” I said, “we’re having a nice day - you don’t need to go... I can find something else in the oven.”

  “Just don’t bother,” she hissed.

  Once again he had proven to his wife how useless he was. Unable to even a cook a meal for them on Christmas Day - his wife knew he would never change and she really had fallen out of love with him. The rest of Christmas, for him, was spent with nothing but The Queen’s speech and left-over Leon.

  Every cloud has a silver-lining, though. He got to see his children every weekend, and a couple of times during the week after his wife found a new lover, in another city, after she thought she was dumped by Leon - who never returned her calls or saw her again.

  ~ FIN

  I watched as she checked herself out in the mirror - a flushed face but, other than that, nothing to give the game away of what she’d just done. Not that the children would understand such a thing.

  Not at their age.

  At least, I hope not.

  She caught me looking at her in the mirror and turned to look at me, still lying on the bed - my hands behind my head for support.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just confused,” I said honestly.

  “Confused?”

  “Us. What just happened?” I asked.

  She didn’t say anything right away. Just looked at herself in the mirror.

  “I thought you were seeing someone now,” I said, softly.

  “I am. At least, I think I am.”

  “You think?”

  “He hasn’t even wished me a Merry Christmas today,” she said. “Not a phone call... not a text.... nothing.”

  And I know why. Hard to text a message when your body is in several pieces.

  “I still love you,” I said.

  There was a long, uncomfortable pause. It would have been nice to hear her say it back to me too. Especially given how I started the day feeling about her. Gone from wanting her dead, as revenge, to desperately wishing I were back with her.

  “You feel nothing for me?” I asked - almost scared of the answer.

  “It’s not that,” she said, finally. “A lot has been said.”

  A lot has been said since she left. Many stupid arguments. Most of which were completely unnecessary - just said out of anger and venom.

  “Nothing that we can’t move on from,” I insisted. “Surely we deserve to give it another go... I always thought that’s what was going to happen - a few months apart to reassess things and then, you know, get back together.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed - facing away from me.

  Well, this is awkward.

  “I best go and check on dinner,” I said, climbing off the bed.

  You decide what happens next!

  His wife wants to give things another go

  His wife doesn’t answer him straight away

  He realises the best way of fixing things

  “If you want to go through to the dining room,” I said, “I’m just about to dish up the food.”

  “Can I take a toy with me?” Ryan asked his mother.

  “No, you can play with them after dinner....” she said - clearly not the answer Ryan, or Sarah, wanted to hear as they stomped through to the dining room. That reaction was another reason she preferred them to open their presents after dinner. As soon as they had gifts to play with - neither of them were interested in eating.

  “And don’t forget to wash your hands!” she called after them.

  “You sure you don’t need a hand?” she asked.

  “I’m good, thank you.... has everyone got enough drinks?”

  She looked to the drinks, she’d given the kids earlier, which were still on the floor and nodded, “I’ll take them through.”

  “Okay,” I turned back to the kitchen.

  “And thank you for this,” she called out after me. “It’s nice.”

  I flashed her a smile before turning my attention back to the dinner. A quick boil of the kettle, ready for the gravy granules, and the yorkshire puddings placed on the top shelf of the oven for the final couple of minutes.

  ‘I think it’s fair to say I have everything under control,’ I thought as
I went back to carving the meat - still trying hard to pretend it was something other than what it actually was.