Christmas Horror Volume 2

by Richard Chizmar

  The Christmas tree lights were slowly blinking to life, a soft twinkling at first, then brighter and brighter, as if they were pulling in more and more electricity. A few of them became so bright Tommy was sure they were going to catch on fire.

  The fireplace bricks began to shift and crumble. The floor was trembling. Tommy raised his hands, sure the bricks were going to fly across the room. Then something happened to the air, and he could feel this heavy pressure that stopped up his ears and made his face ache. A large red face suddenly appeared in the brick, like his dad’s face when he’d been drinking too much. The face was pushing its way out of the brick, and then a red stocking cap appeared, popping out of the widening cracks, and there was Santa’s bushy white beard moving around as if it were full of bugs. Then the rest of the body squeezed out of the bricks and Santa shook himself off. And when he shook he stank like a barn full of cows.

  It was Santa all right, but looking nothing like any of the pictures Tommy had ever seen. Santa was taller than the Christmas tree and as wide as two refrigerators. His big, floppy face stretched out with a grin from one ear to the other. He yawned hugely and Tommy could smell his terrible breath and see his mouthful of rotting teeth. Santa’s skin had gotten even redder, as red as a tomato. Tommy held his breath waiting for Santa’s head to explode.

  Santa looked around the room, frowning. “Where’s my treat?” Tommy was afraid his mom and dad would hear and come downstairs. But maybe that was the least of his problems.

  Then Santa stared right at Tommy. “Boy, come out of there! I need my treat! I’ve come a long way and I’m feeling a little light-headed.”

  Tommy crawled out from behind the couch and shakily stood up. “I guess there isn’t one. I guess they didn’t think you were coming.”

  “I see. Your mom and dad, stingy are they?”

  “No, no. They’re nice people, Santa. But they can’t afford the moon, you know?”

  “Is that what your daddy says, boy? Is he always talking about how he can’t afford the moon, whatever you ask for? Well, I know the type.”

  His mom’s cat walked between them. Santa looked down at it and grinned. “What’s the cat’s name, boy?”

  “M-m-mimi, Sir.”

  “Mimi, hmmm. Sounds yummy.”

  “My mom keeps cookies hidden in a drawer!” Tommy said. “I’m not supposed to know, but I saw her put them there! I can get them for you—there’s a whole bunch!”

  “Well, don’t just stand there! My tummy’s growling!” Santa said. And it was. His belly sounded as if there were a bunch of angry dogs inside of it.

  Tommy ran into the dining room and pulled three bags of cookies from underneath a folded tablecloth in one of the sideboard drawers. When he came back Santa swept them from his arms and stuffed them down his throat bags and all. Tommy could see a huge lump move down Santa’s throat until it disappeared. “Got anything else?”

  “Wasn’t—wasn’t that enough?”

  Tommy started to back away, wondering if he could outrun Santa’s long legs.

  “Hmmm.” Santa scratched his beard. A rat fell out of it and ran off into the dining room. Tommy could hear Mimi cry out as she began the chase. “Maybe so. I pretty much ate my fill at the Gibson house. You know the Gibsons?”

  “I go to school with their son. Felix.”

  “Nice boy. Very nice. Well, maybe I’ve eaten enough for one night.” He frowned at Tommy then, his eyes looking dark and ferocious. “You can’t tell anyone about this, you hear? It’s bad luck, catching Santa in the act.”

  Tommy nodded. “I won’t, Santa.”

  “Good boy. Now good luck …” He scanned the floor with all its dust, ash, and rubble. “With all this.” He turned toward the chimney.

  “Bye, Santa,” Tommy said.

  “Wait!” Santa turned back around. “Almost forgot.” He pounded himself on the chest a couple of times and opened his mouth, making a deep coughing sound.

  Tommy stepped back. A glistening reddish-brown football flew out of Santa’s mouth, which Tommy miraculously caught. It was soaking wet and slimy, a little stinky, but it appeared to be brand new.

  Santa wiped the drool off his mouth and said, “You might want to hide that, by the way, to avoid any embarrassing questions.” He backed into the fireplace and started to fade into it. “Next year, don’t be afraid to ask for more. As long as you remember them treats.” And then he was gone.

  ~

  Tommy started to sweep up some of the dust but of course there was no way he could fix all the broken bricks around the fireplace so he finally gave up and just went to bed. The next morning he woke up to the sounds of his dad yelling and cursing and stomping around. He went downstairs to face whatever his parents wanted to do to him.

  “I know you did this—I just don’t know how you did this,” his dad said quietly, staring at him. When Tommy’s dad used his soft voice like that he was even scarier. Tommy wondered if he ran out the door right then if his dad could catch him. The old man was drinking already, so maybe not.

  “That boy couldn’t break those bricks—he’s not strong enough. You’ve seen him try to lift things—he’s useless.” His mom patted his dad’s arm as she said this. Of course she wasn’t defending Tommy—she just didn’t want his dad to go on a rampage and completely ruin the holiday.

  That all changed later that day when she discovered that the cookies were missing. Tommy went to bed without Christmas dinner, with a promise that next year he was getting nothing at all. Of course he knew his parents wouldn’t remember that long, and underneath his bed he still had that bright and shiny new football.

  For ninth year Tommy asked for a chemistry set. His mom and dad looked at him as if he were crazy. “There’s no way!” his dad said.

  “But if Santa brings it, can I keep it?”

  His mom and dad looked at each other. His mother shrugged. His dad smiled grimly. “Sure, kid. If Santa is stupid enough to bring you something you’ll blow yourself up with, sure, you can keep the damn thing.”

  Late Christmas Eve Tommy snuck down to the living room with a giant bag of goodies he’d been hoarding for months: licorice sticks and candy corn and apples and oranges and stale Easter Peeps, a giant bag of candy saved from Halloween, and two full jars of peanut butter and jam.

  Mimi, older, still fat and still annoying kept trying to grab the treats and he had to push her away with his foot. Once she dug her claws deep into his knee and he had to bite his lip to keep from screaming. He spent some time arranging the treats in front of the fireplace (completely repaired by his dad, although several of the bricks were a different shade of red and had been put in crookedly) so that Santa would see them as soon as he appeared.

  Tommy was almost finished when he felt that ringing in his ears, and then a pressure so strong it made him drop to the floor. He closed his eyes against the pain and several hard and heavy things fell on his back. He started crawling on his hands and knees as fast as he could to get away.

  He bumped into something cool and smooth and he opened his eyes. It was massive, black, and shiny. Tommy leaned back a little. It was a giant boot. Looking up he saw the colossal swollen head nodding toward him, the burning black eyes and lively beard, the cheeks glowing purple. Santa grinned a shark’s grin—his teeth were several inches long and came down to needle-like points.

  “You’re bigger,” Santa said. “Too many burgers? Or is it ice cream?” Tom scrambled to his feet and backed away. Santa was so wide he hid the fireplace from view, but when he bent down and began gobbling up his treats Tommy could see that the fireplace was almost completely destroyed. One of Santa’s boots crushed part of the Christmas tree, which hadn’t been all that big in the first place.

  Santa’s oversized head wobbled like one of those carnival bobble heads as he looked around the room. “You still have that football I gave you last year?”

  “Y-yes,” Tommy replied. “I only play with it with my friends at the playground. M-mom and Dad, th
ey still don’t know I h-have it.”

  “Oh, you have friends?” Santa puffed out his huge blubbery lips like he didn’t believe him.

  “That’s mean, Santa.”

  “Just kidding!” Santa boomed. “Don’t be so serious! ” He laughed, his belly moving in massive waves that knocked half of the living room furniture over. Tommy was glad his mom and dad had been drinking so heavily that night. Still, he wondered what might happen if they woke up and saw Santa like this. The idea of seeing their terrified faces thrilled him. “But is this all the treats you have? I’m starving! Can’t you see how I’m wasting away?”

  That stupid cat Mimi walked between them then, and before Tommy could say anything else Santa stretched out an enormous black-gloved hand and scooped the cat up and dropped her into his gaping mouth. Santa chewed some, grinding his teeth so loudly it drowned out the cat’s screeches, and then he pounded his chest hard as he swallowed.

  Tommy started to cry, wondering if Santa was going to eat him next.

  “Hush, boy. Are you saying you liked that cat? Tell the truth—I know you didn’t!” Tommy shook his head. “No—that’s what I thought. I’m satisfied now, thanks for asking. I just needed a little protein, you know? Protein builds muscle. You need more protein, boy!”

  Tommy nodded dumbly. How was he going to explain the missing cat? He looked around at the devastation. How was he going to explain any of this?

  Santa put a finger to his nose with a drunken-looking lop-sided grin. After a minute or two with nothing happening he sighed and shook his head. Then he turned and disappeared into the gigantic hole where the fireplace used to be.

  Tommy woke up the next morning to a lot of rage and anger, but much to his surprise none of it was directed at him. He came downstairs to see his dad screaming on the phone at someone from the insurance company. More of the wall behind the fireplace had collapsed, leaving a clear view to the outside. He could see his mom through the hole, out in the yard calling for Mimi. Dust and bricks were everywhere. Whatever was left of the Christmas tree lay on its side, covered in rubble.

  “I don’t know when it happened! We were asleep, dammit! How should I know? It’s been a rough holiday—we needed our sleep, I guess. I work for a living! I just want you to do your job and get out here!” His dad slammed down the phone. He looked at Tommy, frowning. “Somebody drove into the side of the house last night. You didn’t hear anything?”

  Tommy shook his head. “Not a peep.”

  “Well, neither did we. And that damn cat ran away.”

  His mother came stumbling back inside through the hole in the wall. Tommy thought to tell her how dangerous that was, but figured he’d better keep his mouth shut. Her face was wet from crying, which surprised him. He never thought she might actually love that cat. “Well, she’s gone for good!” she cried. “Or else they took her.”

  “Who the hell would want …” his father began, but then the terrible look on his mom’s face stopped all conversation.

  It wasn’t until they were cleaning up that afternoon that his dad found the package in the corner, undamaged. “What the hell is this! ” He held up a giant brightly-colored box. Junior Mad Scientist’s Chemistry Set! was emblazoned in neon green lettering across the front of the box.

  “It looks like Santa brought me that chemistry set I asked for,” Tommy said, beaming.

  His dad glanced at the kitchen where his mother was fixing dinner. “I’ll kill her,” he muttered.

  “You said I could keep it if Santa brought it,” Tommy said, not quite able to get rid of his smile.

  His dad put down the box and went upstairs for the rest of the day.

  ~

  Tommy spent most of the next year gathering together everything he could think of that a monstrous and unpredictable Santa might eat. His parents never came into his room anymore, so he had no worries about them finding anything.

  Some of these Santa treats were canned goods he’d pilfered from the kitchen, taken one can at a time and not very often so his mother didn’t suspect anything. Now and then he’d take one of his dad’s beers, and once a bottle of whiskey hidden in some towels. That caused a big fight between his mom and dad, but they were always fighting anyway, so he didn’t feel too guilty about it. They were still fighting over who gave him that chemistry set—each calling the other a liar.

  By the time his tenth Christmas rolled around Tommy had ample food to feed an army of regular Santas, and he hoped it would somehow satisfy this monster Santa once and for all. He had a dozen or more boxes of canned food, huge stacks of stale bread loaves, sacks full of candies and spoiled fruit, and a load of stuff no normal person would eat—rotten fish heads and a dead squirrel and his old marble collection.

  His dad lost his job early in the year and was home most of the time drinking. His mom worked long hours for a house-cleaning company and was so tired and disgusted when she got home she didn’t clean their own house anymore. Most nights they had pizza or Tommy heated up his own ramen noodle soup. He didn’t know how his dad survived—Tommy hardly ever saw him eat.

  But he made a long Christmas list anyway. What did it matter? Santa was the one who brought the good presents. Tommy asked for a big kid’s bike, video game console, a weight lifting set, skateboard, a box of toy soldiers, a bunch of adventure books, and so many other things he couldn’t remember them all. His parents took one look at his list and didn’t say a word. Later he found it crumpled up in the trash.

  On Christmas Eve his parents went to bed early, leaving Tommy by himself. They never got around to decorating the tree, so Tommy made ornaments out of construction paper, tape and glue, and hung them from the sparse branches.

  It took a long time to haul all of Santa’s food downstairs. At least there weren’t any presents around taking up space. If his parents had bought him anything, he certainly hadn’t seen evidence of it.

  The fireplace had been rebuilt with the insurance money. The investigator couldn’t understand why there were no tire tracks out in the yard, but couldn’t come up with any other rational explanation for the damage. The company paid, and then canceled their home insurance. His dad had railed about it all year long.

  Tommy didn’t know what they’d do if the fireplace was destroyed again. Maybe they’d have to move. Not such a bad thing—maybe Santa wouldn’t be able to find them at a new address.

  As soon as the last bit of food was in place Tommy felt a rumbling deep beneath his feet, then the house began to shake, mildly at first but increasing until pictures were falling off the walls. He felt a sudden blast of heat behind him and turned around to discover a fire in the new fireplace.

  He studied the flames. They came to multiple points like a mouthful of glowing red teeth. Then he noticed the huge deep-set eyes at the back of the fireplace.

  The interior of the fireplace was pushing out towards him, expanding, becoming this fierce red face, dragging flaming whiskers and hair and sideburns behind it, and an elongated body that might have been a giant snake’s, but which Tommy now realized looked more like a train. It poured its way down the chimney and out of the fireplace and across the living room.

  A double door slid open in the side of the train and a naked red elf appeared, throwing a shiny new bicycle out into the room. Tommy grabbed it and immediately climbed on. It was incredible. He drove it into the dining room and rode it around the table a few times as the Santa train roared through the living room consuming everything in sight—not only the food, but the tree and all the furniture disappearing into its flaming maw. “Ho ho ho!” tooted the Santa horn.

  Tommy stopped and looked into Santa’s train engine face. “Is this all I get?”

  The Santa train roared, flames shooting out of its mouth. “Is that all you get? What else do you have to feed me?”

  Tommy thought for a second. “Well I guess there’s some food in the refrigerator. Leftovers mostly, my mom doesn’t…”

  Before he could finish the Santa train was locom
oting into the kitchen, narrowing itself to get through the door. There was an explosive racket of metal screeches and heavy things being pushed around, cabinets scraped from walls and their contents crashing to the hard linoleum floor.

  All this made Tommy very nervous, so he rode his new bike around the table a few more times. It was all he could think of to do.

  “Tommy?” It was his mother’s voice. He looked back into the living room, and his parents were standing there in their pajamas and robes. It surprised him how colorless they looked. Compared to everything else they looked like they had no color at all. They were like black-and-white people who had accidentally wandered into a color movie.

  Tommy rode his bike around the table as fast as he could. “See what Santa brought me? Santa brought me a new bike!”

  The Santa train came roaring out of the kitchen with its mouth, whiskers and eyebrows on fire. It opened its fiery maw and swallowed Tommy’s mom and dad whole. They screamed for a moment, but their screams were replaced by the Santa train’s roars of delight.

  “So what else do you want?” the Santa train bellowed.

  “I can’t decide I can’t decide!” Tommy cried, still racing his bike around the table.

  The train door slid open again and three naked red elves waved. They were surrounded by countless shelves overflowing with what appeared to be toys, but it was hard to tell exactly what they were, or how far the shelves extended. Just the glimpse made Tommy’s mouth go dry with excitement. “Then come inside come inside!” the elves cried in unison.

  And after once more around the table, that’s exactly what Tommy did, the door snapping shut so quickly behind him it severed his bike in two.

  DECEMBER BIRTHDAY

  Jeff Strand

  10 YEARS AGO

  It’s a birthday present and a Christmas present!” said Aunt Jenny, as Clyde opened the box and looked at his new pair of gloves.

  “Thanks,” said Clyde.