Curse of Christmas: A Collection of Paranormal Holiday Stories

by Thea Atkinson

  I took a big gulp out of the red cup Henry handed me and grimaced.

  “I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you can tell me what kind of wine that is,” Leo said. “Chablis or Chardonnay?”

  Leo knew I was no wine connoisseur and he sometimes teased me about my lack of sophistication, freely admitting his new-found obsession with artisanal sake and high-end bourbon, tastes he’d acquired running around with the tech-bros from Silicon Forest, was totally annoying.

  Usually I enjoyed his teasing, but tonight it felt like he was mocking me. To my horror the tears that had threatened earlier welled up and spilled over. I handed the red cup back to Henry so fast some of the wine sloshed onto his hand. “Sorry,” I said but I was already turning away.

  “Hilde, I was just kidding,” Leo said, sounding distressed.

  “I know,” I said without looking at him. “I have to go.”

  “Hilde—”

  “I’ll call you later,” I promised. And with that, I turned and fled.

  Chapter 2

  There was no other word for it. I’d intended to stay the night at Ripley’s so I wouldn’t have to negotiate the twisty road that led to her condo complex in the dark, but I knew I could not remain at her party one more second, treacherous road or not. I hoped she’d forgive me for ghosting her like that, but I’d text her when I got home so she wouldn’t worry about me.

  The sidewalk was icy and I slipped twice but managed not to fall as I made my way to my parked car. I’m sure anyone who saw me wobbling away from the house assumed I was drunk. I’ve never been good in really high heels and the pair I had on had been worn so rarely that the soles were still slick. Not the best footgear for walking around in what was fast becoming a major snowfall.

  My hand was shaking so badly from the cold that it took me three tries to get the car key aligned with the lock on the driver’s side. When I finally yanked the door open, I practically fell into the seat, catching the skirt of my brand-new dress on something sharp. Of course it ripped.

  Damn it.

  The heater blasted frigid air when I turned on the ignition and I swore again, wishing I’d put on my coat before I’d belted myself in.

  Because I’d l wanted to make a grand entrance to the party, I’d left my coat in the backseat of the car and walked the few feet to Ripley’s front door without any more protection than the gossamer chiffon wrap that had come with the dress. Now I was freezing.

  So much for making grand entrances, I thought sourly, wondering if anyone besides Leo and Henry had even noticed I was there.

  I wasn’t half a mile down the two-lane road when the snow really started to come down in big, fat, fluffy flakes. Visibility quickly deteriorated. I turned on the wipers but they didn’t help much.

  I could feel my shoulders tense up. I turned the radio on but heard nothing but static until I tuned in a station playing round-the-clock Christmas music. John and Yoko’s supremely depressing “Happy Christmas” suddenly surrounded me.” Terrific, I thought, because I wasn’t already feeling bad enough.

  I turned the radio off and gripped the steering wheel tighter. I was leaning so far forward I could have licked the windshield. On top of everything else, the windows were starting to fog up and the defroster wasn’t working. Bracing myself, I powered the driver’s side window down to let the cold air in.

  That helped clear the windows but also let in a freezing wet wind. Within seconds my hands were so cold they went numb.

  I could barely see over the hood of my car. It was the 21st and the solstice moon was full, but so obscured by clouds and falling snow that it might as well not even been there.

  And then the sky was split with a bolt of lightning followed by the crack of thunder so loud and close it made me jump.

  I’d heard of thundersnow but had never experienced it. The lightning flashed through the clouds and snow and I saw all the colors of the rainbow, like the Northern Lights had somehow been trapped by the weather. It was strange and beautiful, but I was too nerved up to really appreciate the show. I flinched every time the thunder rolled.

  The temptation to just pull over somewhere and go to sleep was almost overwhelming but I made myself keep going. And then, just as I was about to make a turn onto a freeway feeder road, the sky cracked open with light as multiple lightning flashes went off like synchronized fireworks at a concert.

  I looked away to keep from being blinded and in that instant, I hit a patch of black ice and lost control of the car. I tried steering into the slide but it was no use. The car slipped off the narrow track and slid toward the edge of the forest just beyond the blacktop.

  I saw a huge Douglas fir looming in front of me and had a split second flashback to a Christmas when Hugh and I were children and we’d helped our parents decorate a Douglas fir so tall the top had to be cut off so it wouldn’t brush the ceiling.

  Daddy had lifted me up so I could put the angel on the highest branch. Huey had cried because he wanted to put the angel on the tree. I tried to grab it down to give it to him but instead pulled the whole tree down, smashing the delicate glass ornaments our mother had collected for years.

  She had cried.

  The memory vanished, swallowed up by the terror of what was about to happen next.

  I knew I was going to hit that tree and there was nothing I could do about it.

  I tugged my seatbelt even tighter and put up my arms to protect my face.

  The car was old. I wasn’t sure the air bag would deploy.

  And then the car and the tree collided.

  I heard a sound like bells and thought, I can hear the snow. And then I collapsed into a black hole.

  I don’t know how long I was unconscious. When I came to, I had a ferocious headache and every muscle in my body ached. Nothing seemed to be broken which did not even seem possible given the state of the car, which had folded around me like a fortune cookie.

  The windshield was so cracked it was opaque and I had to wriggle my left foot out of a vise that had been created by the crumpled metal.

  I caught a glimpse of my face in the rearview mirror and was shocked to see bright blood pouring down the side of my face where flying glass had cut me.

  I looked like Carrie at the end of prom night.

  I used the pretty chiffon wrap to bandage the wound, and then felt around the front seat for my purse, which had my phone in it.

  I didn’t have much hope of getting a signal out here, but at least I could use the flashlight app. After I retrieved my purse, I snagged my coat out of the backseat.

  A bag with a change of clothes and sneakers was in the trunk. There was a sweater in that bag, and warm socks. I knew I had to get to that bag but first I had to get out of the car.

  I pushed on the door but the frame was so badly bent it was jammed.

  The engine had died when I hit the tree, so I couldn’t lower the electric windows either.

  I knew I couldn’t just sit in the car and freeze so I considered my options.

  I took off one of my ridiculous shoes and started pounding the heel into the fractured windshield, eventually punching a hole in the glass large enough to allow me to climb out onto the car’s hood.

  My exit wasn’t graceful. My coat protected me from most of the jagged edges of the crumpled metal but it was sliced to pieces and leaking feathers by the time I managed to maneuver my way to the road. Which was when I realized I’d left the keys in the ignition. I’d have to climb back into the car to get them and that seemed like an impossible feat.

  I decided to hike back up to where I’d turned off the road, figuring other party-goers would be coming down and I could hitch a ride.

  I looked around for a branch I could use as a walking stick because I knew if I tried hiking in just on those unstable heels, I’d break something before I walked three feet. And it wasn’t exactly as if I could go barefoot.

  Moving slowly and carefully, I set out for my destination, tree branch in one hand and my phone in the other.
The feeble, makeshift flashlight bounced off the snow without really giving me much in the way of illumination. The moon was no use at all, hiding behind the heavy cloud cover.

  It was very quiet.

  And then I heard something moving in the trees. Something large enough to make a noise moving.

  A bobcat? A coyote? A bear?

  I slipped my phone into my coat pocket so I could grab the branch with both hands, quarter-staff style. I knew it wouldn’t be much good as a weapon against anything much bigger than a mouse, but at least I wasn’t empty-handed and that gave me some measure of comfort.

  I tensed as whatever it was got closer and then suddenly, a shadow darker than the snow-filled night loomed in front of me.

  It was a magnificent stag; larger than any deer I’d ever seen—almost moose sized. And his head was crowned with a multi-pronged rack of antlers that easily spread four feet from tip to tip. And those antlers were shining as if they weren’t made of bone but of …

  Silver?

  The stag took a step toward me and I stepped back involuntarily. My right heel caught on something and snapped off and I fell heavily, twisting my ankle as I did so.

  I cried out in pain and dropped the branch.

  The deer lowered his head so that its dark eyes looked directly into mine and then with a toss of his antlers he invited me to climb onto his back.

  Not quite believing I wasn’t dreaming, I reached up and grabbed the antlers on each side of his head—they were silver—and allowed the animal to pull me up.

  I hauled myself onto his narrow back and practically collapsed, still holding onto the antlers as if they were the handlebars of a bike I was steering.

  The stag rose to his full height and ambled back toward the trees.

  “No,” I said, frantically trying to turn it around by hauling on the left antler. The deer shook its head and grunted to let me know he wanted me to stop.

  At that point, a feeling of complete calm came over me. I wondered if hypothermia was setting in and if the next stage would be “paradoxical undressing” where I ripped all my clothes off as if too hot.

  I definitely wasn’t thinking straight but the whole situation felt unreal, so I wasn’t sure if my mind was really retreating in a freezing fog or simply reacting to something that was really happening, no matter how unlikely it was.

  I’m riding a magical animal into an enchanted forest, I thought, though where the “enchanted” part came from, I don’t know. Maybe I was dreaming. Maybe I was still back in my car and this was all some sort of dream.

  But it felt real.

  I let go of one of the antlers to pet the deer’s shoulders. His coat was coarser than I expected, but then, I’d never petted a deer before.

  I could feel his body heat warming me as I clung to his back so I hugged him closer and just hung on. Hugh is going to be so jealous, I thought. Growing up we’d lived near an urban trail and often saw deer foraging for berries or vegetables in unfenced gardens. In the spring we’d see does with their spotted fauns drinking from the little creeks that wound their way around our neighborhood but we never got close enough to touch them, even though we tried despite our parents’ constant cautions not to approach the wild creatures.

  My mind drifted. I realized it had stopped snowing and what looked like snowflakes in the air were actually flower petals being blown about.

  Which made no sense at all.

  I realized, too, that the sky was no longer midnight black but rather the purplish-blue of twilight and that the air was no longer frigid but warm as summer.

  We were no longer moving through an evergreen forest of spruce and fir and pine but a fragrant woodland where the trees were simultaneously in flower, in fruit, and in full fall foliage.

  Although not all was what it seemed. As we passed one tree with gloriously orange leaves, the leaves lifted off the branches and an entire flock of butterflies flew away.

  I followed their flight with my eyes and when I looked back at the ground I saw we were approaching a small cottage that looked as if it had come right out of the pages of a storybook.

  The stag stopped in front of the cottage and lowered his head, making a noise between a snort and a wheeze.

  As if in answer, the door to the cottage swung open.

  Chapter 3

  A handsome man about my age filled the doorway. He did not seem to be surprised to see either the stag or me but simply smiled a welcome, then looked over his shoulder and said, “Mother, we have a visitor.”

  Handsome? That was an understatement. I found myself blushing as I slipped from the back of the deer, bracing myself against his bulk for balance.

  The man looked concerned and took a step towards me.

  “Are you hurt?” he said.

  “I was in a car accident,” I said. “I really need to call Triple A.”

  Why that was my first concern, I don’t know, but it seemed easier to focus on the aftermath of my accident than to try to make sense of how I’d ended up in the middle of a summer night when it was freaking December 21st in the Pacific Northwest.

  The man looked past me to the stag and said, “Thank you Geweih, she’s safe here.”

  The deer made that strange snort/bleat sound and then trotted away.

  The man turned his attention to me and gazed deeply into my eyes. It was an intense and intimate gaze and it unsettled me, though there was nothing but kindness in his amber eyes.

  “Come in,” he said at last and stood aside to let me pass.

  I stumbled a little crossing the threshold and he reached out to steady me, grabbing my elbow and holding onto it as we came into the small, well-kept house.

  A very old woman turned from the stove when she heard our steps and she was already smiling. Until she saw me. “Ah,” she cried, as if in pain, then dropped the plate she was holding. It shattered on the polished pine of the floor.

  Do I look that bad? I wondered, much too aware of how bloody and bizarre I must look with my fancy dress now in tatters and mud and snow spattering my legs.

  “Please don’t be afraid,” I said. “I know I look a fright.”

  She snorted a laugh as if what I’d said amused her and replied, “No harm done, dear. I was merely startled. You look very like someone I used to know.”

  I didn’t quite know how to respond to that so I merely nodded. “I am Marus,” the man said to me, “and this is my mother, Syla.”

  His mother? The math didn’t add up. Marus looked like he was in his early twenties and Syla was ancient, with gray hair so thin her scalp showed through in patches and a face so wrinkled her eyes were almost lost in them. Maybe he was adopted, like I was.

  “I’m Hildegard Thomas,” I said, “Hilde.”

  “Hilde,” Syla replied, as if tasting the name on her tongue.

  “I’m terribly sorry to bother you,” I said, feeling totally ridiculous, “but I had an accident and then I ran into your deer and he brought me here.”

  “Yes,” she said. “He is trained to greet travelers.”

  “Like a St. Bernard,” I said inanely and she and Marus both looked at me.

  “Yes, just so,” she said. “Why don’t you clean yourself up and we’ll see what we can do about your situation.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “If you’ll just point me to your bathroom.”

  “Bathroom?” she asked, as if she’d never heard the word before, and then she started laughing hysterically. “Marus, show Hilde the…bathroom.” She nearly choked on the word.

  WTF? I thought.

  Marus smiled at me reassuringly. “It’s not as bad as all that,” he said and led me out the front door and around the back to where a natural hot spring bubbled up in a muddy clearing. There was a path of stones that led to the water’s edge. Grimy towels hung on a little hedge that partially screened the spring and there was a lump of something viscous balanced on the ground within easy reach of anyone who might be in the water.

  And where’s the toil
et? I wondered.

  As if he’d heard the question, Marus said, “If you need to move your bowels, the privy is over there.” He pointed to a small shack almost hidden beneath a large tree.

  I shuddered, imagining how many spiders might be inside it.

  “Do you need anything else?” Marus asked politely, making no move to leave.

  “No,” I said. “I’m good.” Which was not exactly true. I was very far from good. I was actually not good at all, but I was afraid if I said anything else, I might start screaming.

  “Excellent well,” he said. He gave me a little bow and then turned back toward the cottage.

  I waited until he disappeared around the corner before I let out a deep breath. There wasn’t a window in the back of the cottage and as far as I could tell, we were out in the middle of nowhere, so I slowly began to unpeel my filthy, bloody clothes. I ached all over and the idea of getting into a hot spring was overpoweringly tempting.

  Just taking off those torture devices strapped to my feet was bliss.

  I lowered myself into the spring and nearly gasped at the heat of the water, but it was no hotter than the whirlpool at my gym.

  The pool beneath the spring was about five feet deep, so I knotted my hair into a bun to keep it from getting wet as I allowed the water to engulf me.

  The spring carried the dirt away from me and sucked it out of sight.

  I touched the goo on the stone and brought it to my nose. It smelled pleasantly herbal, so I rubbed some of it on my skin to see what would happen.

  It fizzed and lifted all the blood and grime away from my skin like the best Kbeauty mask ever.

  When I finally felt clean, I heaved myself out of the spring using the paving stones for leverage. I was wrapping one of the towels around me when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.

  I whipped around, holding the towel up, and saw a…

  Monster!

  I screamed. That preternatural calm I’d been experiencing shredded and in that movement I felt a horrible fear bubbling up in me like the water from the spring. I screamed and retreated back into the spring as the creature stood there, looking bewildered and oddly…apologetic. He backed away, making noises that had the cadence of speech but not the meaning.