Mary-Ann had always hated Christmas from the time she was a child. One draw back of living in a poor family was that you never had Christmas. Now, this Christmas at the age of 26 years, she was living in her own home surrounded with beautiful things and plenty of money in the bank. She also now always made sure that she celebrated Christmas even though she had nobody to share it with except her cat Mischief.
On Christmas Eve Mary-Ann awoke from a deep sleep by a noise downstairs. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table and seeing that it was only 12.05am, she rolled over thinking it was just Mischief but on closing her eyes she remembered that she had put him outside before going to bed.
Making her way downstairs on tiptoe, so as to be as quiet as possible, Mary-Ann could hear strange crunching noises coming from the living room. With her heart in her mouth and the hair on the back of her neck standing on end, she crept into the dark kitchen first to get herself some protection in the form of a heavy butchers knife, before making her way into the living room. With the strange sounds getting louder with every step she took, she found herself thinking about the sound of chicken bones cracking in the jaws of a cat.
Lowering the knife she stepped into the room and flicked on the light only to see somebody who looked like Santa sitting under the Christmas tree eating.
“Who are you and what the devil are you doing in my house?” she asked in a shaking voice, now with the knife being held outright like a sword.
“I am Santa!” the man replied around a mouthful of meat. When he turned towards her she noticed with disgust that his mouth and chin were covered in blood and fur. Screaming at the top of her lungs, Mary-Ann saw what remained of her beloved cat lying under her Christmas tree.
“Screaming is going to get you nowhere lady after all, I am only what you created” Santa chuckled.
“Just what the fuck do you mean by that remark you weirdo?” she responded with as much venom in her voice as she could muster. Now she was over her shock Mary-Ann found that she was getting very angry at this strange man in her living room. As her anger took over she felt her slim body shake with the force of her emotions, at the same time trying to decide if this was real or not.
Standing from his position on the floor Santa slowly started towards her with his bloody face grinning at her like a madman. With the blood pounding in her ears and her hands shaking Mary-Ann prepared to commit murder only to find her hands frozen in fear.
“What is it you want from me?” she asked, thinking that maybe if she was at least sort of nice to him, he would leave her in peace. Making himself comfortable in one of the overstuffed chairs Santa told her why he was there and why he had eaten her cat.
“I am the face of Santa and you only see me as you do because of your own views of Christmas, so therefore I am only what you have made me!”
Mary-Ann couldn’t believe her ears; he was actually trying to blame her for this!
“And just how the hell does that one work? You really want me to believe that crap? O.k. If that’s the case then…prove it!” she challenged.
“That’s easy done, take my hand” he replied cheerfully.
After grasping the mans cold hand, the next thing Mary-Ann knew she was standing in a strange room with him beside her. In front of them was a little glass window that looked on into a living room that she did not recognize.
“Where are we?” she asked while rubbing the sweat off her palms and onto her bare legs.
“Shhhhhh, don’t speak, just watch and all will become clear!” Santa responded.
Turning back to the window with a thousand thoughts racing trough her mind and her heart beating like a drum Mary-Ann watched as a small blond girl of about the age of four years entered the living room beyond the window. Following the little girls gaze, she noticed for the first time the Christmas tree in the corner. Much to her surprise her Santa was sitting under the tree eating. Again! Only this time he wasn’t eating a cat but the cookies and milk, which the girl had left out for him. It was the same man who still stood beside Mary-Ann but now he looked, as Santa should. Big, fat tummy, and a smile the size of the Grand Canyon. Nothing scary about this Santa.
Still confused, she turned towards her Santa, as she had come to think of him, for some sort of explanation but she only got a finger to his lips to let her know not to speak. When her gaze returned back to the window, the scene within had changed.
Santa now stood with his back against a wall and his arms chained to hooks above his head. Both nipples were pierced and he was wearing nothing but a red and white g-string. A man of about 30 years old was standing in front of him with a wicked looking whip in his hand. Not bearing to watch what she knew was coming; Mary-Ann turned her head away from the scene in front of her gagging and her tight stomach heaving. She could taste the copper taste of blood in her mouth from biting her tongue too hard, and it now had a numb feeling to it.
With her stomach still turning over and her mouth feeling dry and dirty with apprehension she glanced up to see that the room within the window had changed yet again. Now Santa was sitting in a wooden rocking chair with a lovely looking old woman in the rocking chair next to him. They were holding hands like two teenagers in love and smiling with love into each other’s eyes.
Feeling her body relax again and understanding now what was happening, she turned away again to wonder in anticipation what she was going to see next. Would it be another good view of Santa, or yet another bad one? She just about didn’t want to find out but with knots forming in her stomach again she slowly turned back towards the window.
This time the scene that greeted her looked normal enough with Santa again sitting under the tree but this time he wasn’t eating but smoking a joint. Santa in the room started to laugh to himself over something that could only be seen inside his own mind. A movement on the other side of the room caught Mary-Ann’s eye and she saw a young man with long, untidy brown hair that covered his face almost completely. He too was smoking a joint and looking at Santa as though he thought he might have gone mad! Looking away from the window again, Mary-Ann turned back towards the window to find herself back in her own living room with her Santa still sitting in the chair with blood and fur dripping down his chin. The only difference now was that Santa was the one holding the knife instead of her.
Boxing Day headlines of the local paper: Three unexplained deaths on Christmas Eve
The following article featured:
On Christmas Eve there was three very unusual deaths. The first discovered was a young lady with her throat slit. The second victim was a 30 year old male who had been whipped and left to bleed to death. The third was a young man who appears to have died from smoke inhalation from a cause unknown. Police have no suspects.