by JR Wirth
Twisted Family Holidays Collection
JR Wirth
Twisted Family Holidays Collection
A Books to Go Now Publication
Copyright © JR Wirth 2015
Books to Go Now
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First eBook Edition –Decemeber 2015
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.
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Look for JR Wirth’s other titles
The Town Beneath The Christmas Tree
Good Friday: Dreams and Nightmares
The Seers: Love and Terror on the Fourth of July
Destiny’s Lot: A Halloween Love Story
Jimmy Christmas Present
Excerpt from Twisted Family Holidays Collection
The closer they got to the door, the weirder things became. I could see tiny heads peeking out from behind thick, dark-burgundy drapes, which covered both the garage and front picture windows. They looked like the faces of young children, too many to count, but they all seemed somewhat deranged, slightly disfigured, and mostly evil. Each one seemed to be yelling, but no words could be heard. It was as if their muted voices were calling out for help; an escape from damnation of sorts.
I got an eerie feeling, telling me that something was very wrong. And for some reason, I was compelled to turn and glance at the odd man’s house across the street. “Oh my,” I slowly whispered, with a shrill in my voice and doom in my eyes. At the front door, behind the screen, I noticed the silhouette of the man, or whatever it was. And his aged hand was just outside the door, in almost the same position it was earlier. The porch light highlighted the decrepit hand that was now rolling its index finger, summoning me to join him. Spooked, I looked back at the kids making their way to the door of the disappearing family’s, authentic haunted house.
Suddenly, evil figures, big and small, started to surround them. And the children of the damned, like angry rats, swarmed from everywhere.
The Town Beneath the Christmas Tree
JR Wirth
With creative input from
Hailey Jade Phillips-Wirth
The Town Beneath the Christmas Tree
My grandpa once told me that if you listen carefully and pay attention, you can hear your guardian angel intervening in your life. And with patience, he insisted, good things will happen. The accidental things we attribute to dumb luck or fate, may not be so accidental after all.
Grandpa also told me that it’s better to tell the truth, and face the consequences, than it is to tell a lie—except, of course, for the harmless, often necessary, little white lies. You know which ones I’m talking about. They’re the kind you might tell the school’s crossing guard; like when you tell her that her pink-flowered pajama bottoms really are a great fashion choice. Or the kind you might tell your favorite uncle, like his thinning hair looks great in that style held together by globs of misplaced gel.
So, given that, I’m putting on my serious hat, and I won’t lie to you. This is not a sappy, heartwarming Christmas story. It won’t make you feel all gooey inside so you’ll want to run out and hug your neighbor. Nor does it have a super-mushy ending, where a bumbling angel exposes himself in order to sound a bell, or grow some wings. Nope, it’s not like that at all. I will tell you however, that this promises to be a completely different kind of Christmas tale.
I was a bit of a precocious child, having grown up around adults and older kids for most of my early years, and I seemed older than my actual age. So, at the time, I was probably nine going on twenty-nine. My sarcastic sense of humor often came off as brash, and probably gave the impression I was rude or uncaring.
Not so. I did care, about a lot of things, just some more than others. And, as the eldest girl in the family, of my generation, I think the younger kids looked up to me. Yet, despite all of this, I certainly wasn’t prepared for this kind of Christmas caper. Though some of the memories may be a bit hazy, the fear I experienced, waking up the way that I did, remains clear in my mind and is still one of the scariest moments of my life…
“Holy miracle of the Christmas kind,” I puffed, as I opened my unbelieving eyes. “Where the heck am I?” I scanned the horizon and quickly realized I was somewhere unlike anywhere I’d ever seen. The air seemed heavy and the landscape slightly blurred—like an unpleasant dream. Confused, I looked around for a clue as to what happened, or where I’d landed. I knew one thing for sure, I was in a winter wonderland, yet the temperature felt warm and inviting.
I closed and wiped my eyes. I then shook my head, and hoped I’d wake up from this mind-numbing dream. When I opened my eyes, however, I was still sitting up, and viewing abundant fields of snow. Unsure of how to react in such a predicament, I reluctantly asked myself, “So what are you going to do now, Hailey?” I shrugged and answered, “I don’t know, Hailey. But, really, like where the heck are you?”
This can’t be happening, I thought. I hit my head with my palm trying to knock some sense into myself. Frightened yet curious, I stood to get a better look around. After several moments of staring into oblivion, and finding nothing to help make sense of the situation, I shook my head again, and whispered, “Merry freaking Christmas, Hailey.”
It is Christmas isn’t it? I quickly considered and did a double-check of my clothes. Realizing I still wore my new Christmas outfit, I decided to straighten my clothing. After all, you never know when you’re going to meet someone important, so, first things first. Before any further thoughts or actions, like a proud fashionista, I delicately adjusted my brown hairband. Then I straightened the brown leggings that perfectly matched my new brown-and-beige holiday dress. The dress fit my petite frame marvelously, brought out the highlights in my brown hair, and made my brown eyes pop.
I felt a bit more secure, yet very much in anxiety-mode, and began to sing the lyrics to “Winter Wonderland,” in hopes that it might help reduce the terror brewing within my bones.
When I felt together—or at least enough so that I could continue—I focused my attention back on the danger I was in. In the distance, I could see enormous flames climbing high into the sky. The fire appeared to rage between two unusually tall brick buildings. And there seemed to be a faint, almost whispered, crackling noise coming from the fire.
Then I heard a loud sound from behind. I quickly ducked, turning to the right in the process. The defensive maneuver increased the pain in my already aching head. The heightened pain felt like a boulder lodged in my skull, strapped in place by a vise.
I gave a whispered moan. “Ouch. Now that freaking hurts.”
Still bent at the waist, I wondered how I
could get out of this insane pickle. The merry lyrics I’d been reciting suddenly gave way to panicked thoughts of all kinds of evil. I rose and shouted, “Somebody! Anybody! Tell me what in the heck is going on!”
I realized how useless the plea was, paused and reached for my aching head. “Some Christmas this is turning out to be,” I mumbled, trying to rub away the pain.
While I scanned the horizon, several yards in the distance, I thought I saw something. “What is that?” I whispered. It looked like a head rising from behind a snow pile. Unsure of whether to feel terror, or joy, I just stared. “Oh great,” I whispered, while more thoughts of evil raced through my mind’s eye. “That’s all I need. There’s nothing like an underground snake monster to lift the Christmas spirit.”
When I didn’t see anything more, the feelings of alarm increased as I pictured an oversized snake bursting through a snowbank and eating me alive. With each passing moment, my nerve endings tingled with increasingly heightened bursts of fear. I suddenly realized I was all alone. I couldn’t run to Grandpa, or my mom, or some other trusted adult for help. Nope, I was on my own to confront any attacking danger, including arctic cave-dwellers, abominable snowmen, winter’s ravaging wolves and of course, snake monsters. Panic overloaded my senses, and left me paralyzed.
I jumped at another loud, startling noise that came from behind me. This time it was a voice. It was a familiar voice, yet somehow distant, but at this point in time, I couldn’t make sense of anything I saw or heard.
“Hey Hailey, what’s up?” the voice asked, in a strangely cheerful manner, absolutely inappropriate for the situation at hand.
“Huh?”
I turned and saw that it was my fourteen-year-old cousin, Isaiah, a handsome lad with dark hair and eyes. Isaiah was also smart and funny, and always fashionable—and, of course, I liked fashion.
“What the heck are you doing here?” I asked.
“I was about to ask you the same question.” He smiled, which again seemed totally out of place in the situation. “I was sitting in the garage room,” he continued, referring to the spare room next to Grandpa’s garage. “I was texting my girlfriend. Then, all of a sudden, you guys came running in and fell on me, and we all bumped heads, and poof! I woke up here with my face buried in a mound of snow.”
“Wow, this is really crazy.”
“You think?”
Suddenly, the ground shook. Fearful and quivering, we looked wild-eyed at each other, and then down at the ground.
“It’s an earthquake!” Isaiah screamed. “Watch out. Duck and cover.”
Frantic, I looked around. “Like really,” I shouted, with a scrunched brow. “Where are we supposed to cover?” I noticed that, other than where we stood, nothing else shook. How was that possible? Then I got a horrible idea. Oh no the snake is sizing us up. My fear amplified, and when I looked back at Isaiah, I saw that he looked scared too. Then, without warning, a head popped out of the snow between us.
We jumped. It was the same head I thought I’d seen earlier.
“This is cool, man.” Bubba said, smiling from ear-to-ear.
“Bubba?” Isaiah whispered, with disbelief in his voice. Bubba was Isaiah’s little brother, a happy-go-lucky sort, always ready for a thrill. And I guess getting buried in the snow, in an unknown place, could, by some accounts, be seen as a thrill.
Bubba jumped to his feet, then flopped back down and began to roll around in the snow. “Oh man!” he shouted. “This is great. You guys need to try this.”
Isaiah and I just looked at each other and shook our heads.
“I don’t think he quite understands,” Isaiah said, with a deep sigh. “This may not be as good a thing as he thinks it is.” He turned and walked away.
“Where are you going?” I shouted anxiously, not wanting to be left alone to watch over young Bubba. I couldn’t even watch over myself.
“I’m going to check for my phone!” Isaiah shouted back, then ducked behind a pile of snow. After several moments of anxious waiting, I heard him yell, “Here it is! I found it!” Then I heard him bark, “Ouch!” followed by more silence, and more anxious waiting. After what seemed like an hour, he lifted the phone and showed it to me.
“Try to call Grandpa!” I yelled back, hoping he could get us out of this mess. “Or your mom, and tell her to get Grandpa.”
Isaiah stood, looked at his phone, smiled and scrolled through his contacts. Then he scrunched up his face and, with his free hand, rubbed the back of his head and neck, with a funny expression on his face. I could see him mouthing the words, “What the…?” Then he turned, and stared blankly at me. The intense, distant look scared the child right out of me.
“What?” I screeched, praying for a better answer than his look gave me.
“I can’t dial out, or text,” he shouted. Then, just like when I shook Grandpa’s snow globe, Isaiah shook his phone and looked back at the screen. Still dumbfounded, he repeated the sequence three more times before releasing his grip and letting his hands fall meekly to his side. He gazed across the distance at me. “And there’s a message on the phone that won’t go away.”
“What does it say?”
He looked at the screen again, seeming to confirm the message. “It says, ‘Merry Little Christmas.” Isaiah shrugged and puckered his closed lips.
Hands on my head, I swayed from side-to-side, conjuring evil thoughts of all kinds. I asked, “What do you think it means?” then had an epiphany. “Did you change your home screen? Or maybe Jessica did it? You know how she likes Christmas. Or maybe it was Nana, pulling a prank.”
“I don’t know what it means. But it wasn’t there before we ended up here, so it couldn’t have been my mom or anyone else.” Isaiah shrugged again. “But why not just write ‘Merry Christmas’?”
Silently, we stared at each other, trying to figure out the puzzle. We didn’t move for several seconds. Bubba, meanwhile, continued to play in the snow, seemingly free of care or angst as to where we were, or why.
Finally, I had a useful thought, and gently hit my hands against my head. I remembered that we were listening to Christmas music before we landed there. “Hey,” I shouted to Isaiah. “I think I got it. Do you remember what song Grandpa was playing when we disappeared?”
Isaiah seemed to think about it. He checked his phone two more times, then smiled. “’Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” he finally replied. “Oh wow. Do you really think that could be it?”
“Maybe,” I said, unsure of what it meant. I shook my head which didn’t ache quite as bad as before. “But how did it get on your phone?”
Isaiah shrugged and briefly looked away. It seemed his non-verbal communication was on high alert, outweighing his verbal communication. When he looked back, he gave me an odd stare and another shrug, then proposed the question that had been circling in my mind as well: “How on Earth did we get here?”
“Oh yeah.” I groaned. “Good question.” I looked at Bubba, still keeping himself entertained.
Suddenly, Isaiah snapped his fingers. “What if, when we were transported, the phone got stuck in some electrical impulse-convergence?”
“Huh?” I looked around and shrugged. “Anything is possible,” I replied, though I had no idea what the heck he was talking about. “But, what should we do now?”
“I don’t know.” Isaiah seemed as confused as me. But since he was the eldest, we needed him to be the leader. He turned to Bubba and, in a commanding voice yelled, “Bubba, stop playing and come here!”
I raised my brow—I’d never seen Isaiah act with such passion, negative or otherwise—then joined the brothers to plan our next move.
As we huddled, Isaiah appeared deep in thought. With his chin in his hand he looked around, measuring-up the landscape.
“Hailey,” he said. “If you were there.”
He pointed to the right where the outline of my body lay still in the snow. “And I was there…” He paused and pointed to the left. “Then Bubba must have landed somewhere over there.” He pointed to the area where I first saw Bubba’s head peeking out of the snow.
I nodded. “Yeah, he did land over there. I saw him.” What’s he up to? I wondered. He’s starting to make sense. And, suddenly, I got it too. We’d all landed at different points, depending on our age—maybe height and weight had something to do with it as well. It certainly made as much sense as anything else at that moment. The eldest, and biggest, landed there and me here, and then Bubba over there; all of us in perfect order. It seems reasonable to me. “You’re right Isaiah,” I whispered, still stuck in my thoughts. I looked and pointed past where Bubba popped his head up. “That means that Arhiana should be over there.”
“Yeah,” Isaiah agreed, with a pump of his fist. “Then what about Hayden? Where would he land? Would he be even farther down the way?” Isaiah looked into the snowy fields. “And then what about Harper?” he asked, with a note of concern in his voice. He pointed toward the vast horizon. Following the line of his arm and finger, in the distance, I noticed smokestacks. They were small and straight, like those which might arise from chimneys on cold, windless nights. “Harper should be right there,” he said, in a scary, staggered tone. “She should be right smack in the middle of those smokestacks.” As he turned back he must have seen the sky of flames in the distant left. “Whoa, what the heck is that?”
“Right. Pretty freaky, huh?” I replied. “It kind of looks like a giant fireplace, don’t you think?”