"What happened to you?” Gina said, wide-eyed.
"Krampus," Santa growled. "Krampus happened."
* * *
Bobby, Gina and Santa sat at the kitchen table. The kids were eating their way through a platter of chocolate chip cookies. Cookie-crumb dotted glasses of milk were in front of them, while Santa nursed a tumbler of whiskey.
"Krampus is my brother," Santa sighed. "He delights in punishing bad children. But he's . . . evil. He drags them to Hell and does unspeakable things to them. He breaks their spirits. I had to stop him."
Santa's face hardened. Gina and Bobby looked at each other, but didn't say anything. Instead, they quietly dipped their cookies in their milk.
Santa continued. "As Krampus's punishments grew more extreme, his appearance started to change, become more demon-like. Until he finally looked more like a beast than he did a man."
Gina looked at Bobby, and whispered in her quiet, inside voice. "I wonder what Santa did to look like that too."
"I'm afraid to ask," Bobby replied.
"I can hear you, y'know," Santa snapped. "I tried to make up for his evil deeds. I rewarded good children lavishly. I punished the children who were perfectly balanced, or just a little bad, by putting coal in their stockings, or leaving them a birch switch. But Krampus turned all my efforts on their heads. He weaponized my warnings. He'd take that coal-filled stocking and whip children with it. He'd flay the skin off them with the birch switches. He'd replace their hearts with coal. Cut out their tongues."
Gina and Bobby gasped.
"But how could their parents not know? Not stop him?" Gina asked.
"He worked at night, with the help of the Night Mares. He would ride one of the Night Terrors into their heads and torment them in their dreams. They woke up, broken and sobbing, terrified to the point of paralysis — that is, if they woke up at all."
"Where is he now?" Bobby asked, nervously looking around, wondering if Santa’s brother was going to jump out of the shadows and attack them.
"Krampus was brought before an Otherworld tribunal. I was the chief witness against him. He was found guilty and sentenced to be locked in an iron cage, deep in the depths of Hell, until the End of Time. Before they put him away, though, he cursed me to see the world with his eyes."
Santa looked up from his drink and halfheartedly smiled at them. His eyes were still glowing red and rimmed with bloody tears.
Gina got a sudden flash of understanding. "His actual eyes?"
Santa nodded, sadly. "I used to see so much hope in the world. Everything looked so bright and beautiful. When people were truly good, they had an inner glow that was so strong, it was almost blinding. I used to love children, and all the excitement they brought to Christmas. Now, all I see is black and white and shades of gray. When I see children, it's all I can do not to beat the selfish little monsters senseless with their own Christmas lists."
"You're turning into Krampus," Bobby whispered.
Santa nodded, sadly. "I'm afraid so. And I don't know how to stop it."
Gina jumped up, knocking her chair over backwards in her excitement. "I know! I know how to stop it! You need new eyes."
Santa roared with laughter, but not in a funny way. It sounded bitter and jaded. "Well, there you go. Maybe I'll have the elves make me a set."
"Can you do that?" Gina asked, hopeful.
"No!" he fairly shouted back. "Eyes don't grow on trees. They're not toys."
"Maybe an organ donor list," Bobby said. "I heard about that on Mom's TV show that she watches."
"Right," Santa said, still bitter. "I'm supposed to check myself into a hospital, looking like this, and ask to be on the donor list? And then undergo surgery? You’re both out of your minds. It's not going to happen."
Gina closed her eyes for a second, then made her decision. She went to the butcher block and slid out the sharpest knife, handing it to Santa. "You need new eyes," she said. "I have two of them. You can take one of mine."
Bobby jumped up and went to stand with her. "Me too. You're going to need a second eye. You can take one of mine."
Santa looked at both of them, astounded and touched. "You would do that for me? You would give me your eyes?"
"The world needs Santa," Bobby said. "And Santa needs new eyes."
Santa shook his head. "In all my years as Santa, I've never had anyone offer me their eyes before."
* * *
Gina and Bobby stood, back to back, locking their arms together.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Santa asked.
They nodded.
Santa held them in place with one giant hand on their shoulders, and hefted the knife. "I want you to make a wish. A big one."
Gina closed her eyes, whispering her wish to herself. Bobby swallowed and nodded, then looked at Santa, opening his eyes wide.
Santa plunged the knife down into Bobby's eye socket and carefully carved out the orb, as the children screamed and blood flowed.
* * *
The next morning, as the sun pierced through their bedroom window, both the kids bolted upright.
"Oh my gosh. It was just a dream," Gina said.
"Worst dream ever," agreed Bobby.
Gina frowned. "You had the same dream? About Santa?"
"Yeah." Bobby said, turning to look at her. "That's weird."
Gina gasped. "Bobby, what happened to your eyes?"
"What happened to yours?!"
Both kids rushed to the mirror on their dresser.
"Wow," Gina said.
In the mirror, each child had one brown eye and one blue eye.
"That's like, a bazillion years beyond weird," said Bobby.
The kids looked at each other, then looked around at their room.
"Wow," Gina said again. "Do you see what I'm seeing?"
"This is kinda like our bedroom at our old house," said Bobby. “But different.”
"Not just that. It's the colors. Everything's so . . . bright. The reds are redder, the blues are bluer, the yellows are yellower."
"The greens are greener," Bobby agreed. "It’s like there’s a bright fire inside everything, making it glow. This is awesome."
Bobby and Gina pounded down the stairs to the living room, where colorfully wrapped presents cascaded all around a beautiful Christmas tree.
"Where are we?" Bobby thought.
"What happened to our tiny witness protection apartment?" Gina thought back. "Do you think they moved us in our sleep?"
Their mom smiled at them as she came in from the kitchen, holding a cup of coffee. “Merry Christmas, lazy heads. I thought you two were never gonna wake up."
"Look at her," Gina thought to Bobby. "She's glowing."
"Like an angel," Bobby thought back. "Wait, there's a little gray at the bottom, around her ankles."
"Oh my gosh! I think we're seeing like Santa sees!"
"This is the best freaking Christmas ever!"
Gina turned to her mom. "Where's Dad?"
"He's out, picking up breakfast from Denny’s. It’s the only place that was open on Christmas.”
"Dad's doing . . . what?" Bobby asked, coughing. "That's a first."
Jessica gave him a look. "What are you talking about? He always picks up breakfast on Sundays."
Gina and Bobby looked at each other, skeptical and confused.
A boot gently kicked against their front door, and Jessica walked over to open it.
A blond-haired, blue-eyed man stepped in, holding a cardboard tray of drinks and a bag of food. He glowed so brightly, it almost hurt the children's eyes.
"Who are you?" Bobby asked. “Are you an angel?”
"Bobby, don't be silly. It's your dad." Jessica frowned, taking the drink tray. "Sorry, Paul. I don't know what's gotten into them this morning."
The man laughed and winked at the kids. "It's okay," he said to Bobby. "I'll let it slip this time." He set the food down. “I got you each a hot chocolate with whipped cream, chocolate chip cookie pancakes and
sausages. Hope you're hungry!”
Then he got down on one knee and opened his arms for a hug.
No one moved.
"Seriously? No one's gonna give me any love on Christmas morning?" Paul asked, looking astonished.
Bobby and Gina looked at each other, confused.
"What did you wish for?" Bobby asked Gina.
"A dad who loved us," Gina said, her eyes tearing up.
"Me too!"
The kids ran into his arms and Paul swept them up into a big bear hug, kissing both their foreheads. "That's my little bugaboos. For a second, you had me worried. I thought maybe you were mad at me about something."
He set them down, and Gina turned to Jessica. "Mom? Whatever happened to Frank Pearson?"
"You mean Frank 'Cannoli' Pearson?" Paul asked, chuckling.
"Paul!" Jessica frowned at him.
"Well, that's what they called him. On account of he was always dipping his cannoli into — "
"Paul!" Jessica shouted.
" — sugar," Paul amended. "He had a sweet tooth. Last I heard, he got arrested for money-laundering, extortion and accessory to murder. Now he’s the state’s lead witness against Stanley ‘Two-Fingers’ Tinucci. Do you know, your mom almost married him, when we were in college? You could have been Frank's kids instead of mine. You’d be in witness protection right now."
Jessica swatted at him. "Good thing I wised up, and picked substance over show," she said, smiling. "Now who wants to rip into those Christmas presents and see what Santa brought?"
"Me!" Bobby shouted. "Let me at them!"
"All right!" Paul said. "After presents, we can go sledding in the park. There's some nice, fresh snow out there, all ready to be made into snow forts!"
Gina ran to the window. The world outside was sparkling white and wonderful. Suddenly, she heard a jingling sound. She threw open the window and leaned out. Santa — a big, fat, jolly, human Santa — waved at her from his sleigh, before it zipped away into the sky.
"What are you doing, sweetie?" Jessica asked. "It's getting cold in here."
"Just saying bye to a friend." Gina closed the window and smiled, joining her family around the tree.
"Don't you want to open presents?" Paul asked, as he handed Bobby a gift.
"I have everything I need, right here." Gina hugged her mom tight. "Even if I didn't get a single gift, this would still be the best Christmas ever."
"For me too, sweetie," her mom said, winking at her. "For me too."
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Christiana Miller is a novelist, scriptwriter and mom who's led an unusual life. In addition to writing for General Hospital: Night Shift and General Hospital, she's had her DNA shot into space (where she's currently cohabiting in a drawer with Stephen Colbert and Stephen Hawking), she's been serenaded by Klingons, and she's been the voices of all the female warriors in Mortal Kombat II and III. If her life was a TV show, it would be a wacky dramedy filled with eccentric characters who get themselves into bizarre situations.
Christiana writes a Self-Publishing on a Shoestring blog for Huffington Post and she's also one of the co-founders of Chicago Screenwriters Network. If you want to know more about Christiana, you can visit her website at www.christianamiller.com or like her Facebook page and keep up to date on her latest releases at https://www.facebook.com/ChristianaMiller.author
To be added to the mailing list for upcoming releases, send an email with your name and email address to: [email protected]
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Dark Christmas
DARK CHRISTMAS
A Christmas Mystery
by
Liz Schulte
Dedication
Thank you to all my readers. You guys are the best!
Chapter 1
“Five Christmas trees. Isn’t that … excessive? Gabriel asked as he dropped the last tree box to the floor in front of me.
“You say excessive, I say festive.”
“You put a tree in the bathroom. The bathroom, Ella.”
“A little one.” I shrugged.
He shook his head like I was the most confusing person he ever met.
I was who I was. Maybe it was true that I didn’t like most people. Perhaps, I was a suspicious shut-in with the propensity to drink too much from time to time. I personally liked to think of it as being a homebody with a healthy enjoyment of vodka—semantics, really. I didn’t talk to strangers or mingle. The desire to make friends had never been strong in me. All that aside, though, I liked Christmas. It was the one time of year I didn’t want to be a miserable shut-in—maybe I had seen A Christmas Carol too many times.
The past couple years, I hadn’t felt like decorating since my husband was murdered, but this year was different. This year I wasn’t alone or being tormented. By nothing short of a miracle, I had a boyfriend who was entirely too nice and too good for me. Why he stuck around was anyone’s guess. My personal theory was his training as a detective made it so he couldn’t resist a damsel in distress, and my general existence was one of distress. This Christmas was our first together. A normal couple would try to blend traditions. We weren’t normal and this was my house. Five Christmas trees were going up.
“What’s your problem with Christmas?” I asked.
“I don’t have one. It’s fine. I just don’t have-five-trees like it. I’m normal.” He looked around the living room where my final and biggest tree was going up. “Is anyone actually going to see these trees?”
Probably not. I didn’t have family. Gabriel did, but I hadn’t met them yet, though we had been living together for a few months. Gabriel liked to say I moved on Ella time. Truthfully though, I didn’t like rocking the boat. I liked where we were at as a couple and I didn’t see the need to change it. I had no expectation that his family would like me, so there was no desire to meet them. Of course, it didn’t stop him from trying. Eventually, if we stayed together, I would have to meet them, but it wasn’t going to happen before it was absolutely necessary. I pressed my lips together. “Yes. We’re going to see them.” I pointed back and forth between the two of us.
He shook his head. “Not good enough. If I am giving you a whole day of decorating, you have to give me one Christmas party.”
I knelt down and opened the box to begin sorting branches by length since the color tags had long ago worn off of them. My dog, Watson, took this as an invitation to try to tackle me to the floor. I laughed as I scratched behind his ear. Just a few months ago he was puppy-sized, and now he was a German shepherd-sized horse. “You should have tried to make that deal before you worked all day. I don’t really need your help anymore.”
“Ella.” He used that tone he had when I was being unreasonable.
I sighed. “A party here or somewhere else?”
His eyes narrowed as he tried to work out which one I was more likely to agree to, but the joke was on him. I wasn’t going to agree to either. I didn’t want a ton of people in my house, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to go to theirs where I couldn’t escape. “Here.”
“Sure. So long as the party consists of me, you, and Fagan.” Carter Fagan was the sheriff in a nearby town and my only friend—sad, I know. Almost getting killed with someone was a sure fire way to become instantly close.
“That’s not a party.”
“If there’s alcohol it is.” I smiled at him.
“We’re having a Christmas party, El.” He kissed my forehead. “It will be fun. You’ll see.”
***
I paused brushing my hair as my bathroom door opened by itself. “You will be visited by three ghosts,” Grant’s voice echoed through the room as he shimmered into sight behind me.
Watson had grown used to him. He looked up from the floor, his tail swishing back and forth, but not so much as a growl came from him. Some guard dog he was. I rol
led my eyes. “I shouldn’t have let you watch A Christmas Carol with me.”
“I wonder where I could get chains,” he said, smiling in the mirror behind me. “It gets so boring being a ghost in a house full of people who can’t see me.”
“Get out of my bathroom. I have to get dressed before Gabriel drags me downstairs regardless of how I look.”
“It’s okay.” He leaned against the wall. “I’m a doctor.” Grant waggled his eyebrows at me.
I shook my head. Grant looked as real to me as anyone, but he had been dead for over two hundred years. He was the resident ghost in my old Victorian house, though he claimed there were others—none that I had ever seen though. Seeing ghosts had unfortunately become a part of my daily life. I saw them everywhere now and not all of them were as pretty as Grant, or as pervy.
“That has never and will never work. Out.” I swished my brush through him, trying to make him disperse.
“You’re no fun,” his voice was soft as he disappeared.
I finished getting dressed and looked in the mirror one more time. I blew out a breath. I might as well get it over with. I paused on the third step from the bottom. It hardly looked like it belonged to me. All of the lights were on, holiday music softly played in the background, and people, people I barely recognized, milled around and stood in small groups talking to each other. I backed up one step then another. Maybe no one would miss me for a few more minutes—or hours.
Gabriel’s eye pinned me in place before I could turn around. He raised a challenging eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching up. Damn it. I nodded to him and I forced myself down the remaining steps, but went in the opposite direction. A few people smiled at me as I wove my way around the small groups back to the kitchen. I smiled back, sometimes I even said hi—after all, I was the gracious hostess.
“Is that really where he died?” a man’s voice carried from the kitchen as I approached. “You can still sort of see the knife marks.”
Well that was absurd. The wall had been completely replaced. There were no knife marks left on it, but thinking about it, about that day I found him, stalled my feet from moving forward.
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