Year's End: 14 Tales of Holiday Horror

by James S. Dorr

  I remember leaving him the next morning.

  He stood at the door watching as I got into the taxi. He seemed distressed all right, but I had seen this sort of thing before. I’d seen through his mask and knew all too well the disguises of the criminal mind.

  I wondered if he had planned this all along, luring me there as a witness.

  His jovial face now seemed coarse and cheerless, and his banter and good humour nothing more than the facade of a con man. I noticed the blood on his hand as I shook it. He hadn’t even bothered to wash it off.

  You see, as a criminal lawyer I see how devious these types are.

  And so I left him.

  He waved distantly, as if at a passing shadow, and the taxi started its engine.

  I started to think of work again.

  On the train back my iPhone beeped. It had been without a signal since I went to court on the 29th, and now hundreds of emails and messages streamed into it. One of them concerned my difficult client.

  He had walked free from prison.

  All charges against him had been dropped.

  Jack’s Month

  Nicky Peacock

  By the dim light of the Christmas tree, Mary Jane lay on the living room carpet covered in ripped red foil wrapping and broken black ribbons. Her new presents were gathered around in order of preference and importance; they fanned out, from designer clothes to cosmetic kits to CDs to books.

  “Awesome spread, Mom,” she said, hugging her new designer eye shadow kit.

  “Did you notice the theme this year?” Her mom raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh, yeah, course I did.”

  “Everything was gothic, like those books you like to read.”

  Suddenly the decorations’ limited color palette made sense, “Oh right. Awesome effort,” Mary Jane nodded.

  “You’re lucky to have so many presents,” said her father, sitting up straighter in his black leather chair, “you’re not a little girl anymore.”

  He was right. Mary Jane was in her final year of college and perhaps should have already out-grown Christmas present fever, but being an only child meant being spoiled was really just a way of life to her; to Mary Jane, her parents’ over-indulgent affections were mandatory, rather than simply hoped for.

  “Oh look, there’s one present left,” her father said, pointing at a thin, black, wrapped package wedged under the Christmas tree.

  Mary Jane sprang forward and grabbed it. She turned it round in her hands. Too thin to be a book, too light to be anything exciting – perhaps the concert tickets she’d been dying for?

  “Who’s it from?” her mom asked.

  Mary Jane peeled back the shiny black label. “I’m not sure, I can’t read the writing. I can make out an S, N and a T and a couple of A’s.”

  “From Santa?” Mom offered.

  “Yeah, could be.” Mary Jane smiled at her mom, then began ripping the wrapping away. She stared in horror. It was a calendar. Worse, not even one of those cute puppy ones, it was strange looking – dark, bound in red leather, and the pages inside for each month were strange images made of a dirty looking material.

  “Thanks, Santa,” Mary Jane whispered as she dumped it down and picked her eye shadow compact back up.

  * * *

  Packing up to go back to college, Mary Jane wedged her bags of Christmas goodies into her little pink Mini Cooper. Time was marching on and she’d have to book it to make it back in time for her sorority’s New Year’s Eve party.

  “Don’t forget your calendar,” her mom said, waving it at her like it was a signed photo of Robert Pattison.

  “Can’t I leave it here?”

  “No Mary Jane, don’t be ungrateful. Someone was bothered enough to buy you it, you should be bothered enough to use it.”

  “Mom, I know it was you who bought it. I don’t believe in Santa.”

  “I swear I didn’t buy it, and neither did your father.”

  “Yeah right!”

  “Also, I don’t think the ticket said Santa. Had the same letters though – do you know anyone with those letters in their name?”

  Mary Jane raised an eyebrow and took the calendar from her mom. “What, like Satan!” She laughed.

  “Don’t be silly Mary Jane,” her mother sighed.

  “Well they do have the same letters.” She then grinned and threw her arms wide. “Woohaha!”

  “Really Mary Jane,” her mom said, rolling her eyes, “Drive careful darling.”

  “Ok Mom. I was planning on driving erratically, but now you’ve said that I’ll be more careful.”

  Her mom lunged forward and hugged her, then turned and walked back into the house.

  * * *

  Highbury College was fifty miles from Mary Jane’s home town and the journey gave her a chance to listen to some of her new CDs and reflect on the epic New Year’s Eve party that Theta Kappa Nu were putting together this year. It had been Mary Jane’s idea to have it as a masked ball in Highbury’s famous White Chapel Hall. A massive fireplace, red wood paneling and stone lions placed astride every giant double door—once it was decorated, it would be like stepping back in time.

  Pulling up to the curb, Mary Jane saw her friend Karl loitering in the drive. He waved, then moved so Mary Jane could park up.

  “Good Christmas?” Karl asked as he opened her door.

  “Yeah, lots of presents.” Mary Jane grinned and got out of the car. She then noticed that he was wearing last season’s Armani shirt and quickly lost interest in him.

  “Can I help you to get squared away?” He reached to open her trunk.

  “That would be great,” Mary Jane said without even looking at him. She jogged up into the house to meet her sorority sisters, leaving Karl to unpack her car.

  Theta Kappa Nu was covered with girls pulling around sacks of Christmas presents; it was like they’d kidnapped Santa and ransacked his sleigh. Mary Jane found three of her best friends, Catherine, Lizzie and Annie, and after manically jumping up and down they started to talk about the night’s festivities and how much better it would be than last year’s Honolulu party.

  After Karl had brought in all of Mary Jane’s bags she began rummaging in them to show her friends her Christmas booty. While they cooed over her new clothes and cosmetics, she found her eye catching the calendar of unknown origin. Lifting the red leather front, Mary Jane stared at January’s picture, which somehow now seemed much clearer. It was an odd depiction of a dark cobbled street, eerily lit by tall street lamps and a half crescent ruby colored moon. In the picture, shadows varied in their degree of darkness. However, a small figure in the middle distance was the darkest of them all. It was very tall in comparison with its surroundings and seemed to be carrying a bag. Squinting, Mary Jane imagined it was perhaps some steam punk calendar, and although she’d never really followed the genre, she did appreciate what a good corset could do to her figure.

  * * *

  Throwing open her bedroom door, Mary Jane let her bag fall from the crook of her elbow to the floor. She then noticed the massive lump beneath her bed sheets as it continued to writhe unabated. A tangle of limbs fell out of one side and Mary Jane laughed, “Really Mary-Ann, this is just crass.”

  The movement stopped and Mary-Ann poked her head from under the covers, “I thought you were coming back later?”

  “Yeah, you said she was due back at six,” said the other form beneath the sheets.

  “William is that you?” asked Mary Jane.

  “Would have been embarrassing if it wasn’t,” replied Mary-Ann, getting up and pulling up the top sheet to shroud her naked body.

  “Well maybe you should have sex in your own room.”

  “We broke the bed in my room,” Mary-Ann giggled.

  William threw back the sheets and grinned broadly at Mary Jane, who couldn’t help but scan his naked form. A blush crept into her cheeks and she bent to pick up her bag, getting even more of an eyeful. “Ah man, put on some clothes!”

  William
reached over and grabbed his pants. He scrambled into them, then chased Mary-Ann out of the room, their laughter getting fainter as they ran down the sorority’s corridor.

  Rolling her eyes at the realization that they had stolen all her bedclothes, Mary Jane threw her bag onto her stripped bed and started the arduous task of unpacking.

  “You forgot this,” said Karl as he pushed through her door, brandishing the calendar.

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “What kind of calendar is it anyway? The dates are all messed up.”

  “What do you mean the dates are messed up?”

  “Well, look.” Karl opened it to January and pointed at the days, “They’re all different years.”

  “I’ve been re-gifted!” Mary Jane put her hands on her hips. “Someone gave me last year’s calendar!”

  “No, it’s not last year’s dates.” Karl looked thoughtful, then took out his iPhone; he tapped in a few numbers and then raised an eyebrow. “It’s so weird. The calendar says that 1st January should be a Sunday.”

  “Well tomorrow is certainly not a Sunday. I wish it was.” A flash of last New Year’s Eve and the various intermittent multicolored yawns she’d endured that morning after. There seemed to be a direct correlation between the amount of fun a person had and how much they paid for it later.

  “Even stranger, the date below reads 1888.”

  “So it’s completely useless then?”

  “Actually, it could be worth some money.”

  “Really?” Suddenly the red leather front seemed expensive and soft, and the January picture was quaint with a dark gothic beauty.

  “I wonder who this is meant to be?” Karl pointed to the long shadow.

  Mary Jane grabbed the calendar. “That’s so odd; I could have sworn he was smaller before, and look, he’s wearing a top hat and cloak.”

  “I’m going to do a bit of research and see what this is.” Karl went to take the calendar but Mary Jane pulled it out of his reach.

  “It’s my present, it stays here.”

  “Ok, no sweat.”

  Mary Jane watched Karl stride from the room, then flipped the calendar onto January. She hung it neatly on her wall.

  “That’s bad luck you know.” Mary-Ann was now dressed and lounging on the doorframe, the stolen sheets in her arms.

  “What is?”

  “Putting a calendar up early.” She tossed the sheets onto the bed and smiled. “Catch you at the party.”

  Mary Jane eyed the sheets, then scooped them up into her wash basket to take home next weekend.

  * * *

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” Catherine and Lizzie barged into her room, their eyes scanning for Mary Jane’s dress for the ball, which so far she’d managed to keep secret.

  “I’m getting changed now, so I’ll meet you there,” Mary Jane sighed, then pushed them back out of her room, slamming the door in their giggling faces.

  It took over an hour for her to get ready, but as she now looked in her full-length mirror, she couldn’t help but smile. Her dress was an old fashioned corset with draping red ribbons and black velvet. Sequins dotted the outfit, just enough to sparkle but not too much as to look cheap. Her mask for the ball was on a long ornate handle, and had red and black feathers molded into the gold frame.

  She had deliberately gone overboard with the black eyeliner and red lipstick to make sure her features stood out behind the mask—no good looking stunning if no one knows who you are. Her mom would have said that she looked like a street walker, but Mary Jane had aimed for that look—after all, they were good at selling themselves, and if she was going to be crowned belle of the ball, she was going to have to go that extra slutty mile.

  Karl was meeting her at the Hall, although she wasn’t sure he was boyfriend material. He certainly looked good in a tux and mask, so would be a wonderfully bland accessory for the night, whose only job was to make her look even more stunning. With one last quick reflection assessment in the mirror, Mary Jane sauntered out her door toward Annie and Catherine’s room, to have a pre-party drink with friends, and of course ensure their dresses were nowhere near as good as hers.

  Focused on maneuvering through her doorframe without disturbing the line of her dress, she didn’t see the shadow in the calendar behind her edge closer. It was now so large it overpowered the original picture. It watched her leave with a sadistic smile, then threw its bag from out of the picture and onto Mary Jane’s bed. It then slowly pulled one leg out of the calendar, then the other. Its torso all but dripped out, and last but not least, its top hat and cape. As Mary Jane closed the door, the shadow—now a dark male form—bent and retrieved his bag from the bed. He straightened his hat and cape, then slipped out behind her.

  * * *

  “So I said, ‘not that guy,’ and then she said, ‘yes that guy,’” Catherine giggled with a drunken grin.

  Mary Jane smiled and leaned over to Annie. “Who is she talking about?”

  “I have no frigging idea,” Annie laughed.

  “You know, that girl in the sorority on Oak Street,” Catherine exclaimed. “The one with the fake Fendi she claims is real.”

  “Ohhh yeah, Tracy.” Annie nodded.

  “Who’s the guy?” Mary Jane asked.

  “I dunno, some loser.” Catherine adjusted her ball gown, which was a light blue Cinderella number.

  “We should perhaps go down to the party now, it started like an hour ago.” Mary Jane hadn’t spent her whole student loan on a dress that was to sit in her friend’s room all night.

  “OK, but shouldn’t we wait for Mary-Ann?” Catherine looked over at her wall clock.

  “She’s probably trying to get those massive fake boobs of hers into that dress she bought,” Annie smirked.

  “I think her boobs are real,” Catherine said.

  “Now I know you’ve had too much to drink,” Mary Jane laughed.

  “Let’s go to her room and drag her out, whether she’s dressed or not.” Annie got up and opened the door.

  “What about Lizzie?” Mary Jane asked.

  “She’s already at the party,” Catherine replied, trying to focus on pulling her dress up so she could see where she was now walking.

  The three girls stumbled and glided respectively down the corridor to Mary-Ann and Lizzie’s room. They knocked. Nothing. They knocked again. Silence.

  “You don’t think she’s in there with William again do you?” Mary Jane knocked louder.

  “William is already down in White Chapel, he said he’d help with getting the decorations finished with Lizzie,” Annie replied, and knocked again, even louder this time.

  “Mary-Ann!” yelled Catherine, “it’s time to get the party started, bitch!”

  Nothing.

  “Maybe she went down without us?” Annie looked over at Mary Jane, whose dress glittered in the near dark of the corridor.

  “Look, I’ll find her. You guys go down to the party, ok?” Mary Jane sighed, and then realized what a spectacular entrance she’d make as the last girl to arrive.

  “All right,” Catherine said, gathering her skirt and swaying a little. Annie caught her arm and they both laughed.

  “Come on you drunken whore, let’s go party like its 1999,” Annie said.

  “Or like its 1888,” whispered Mary Jane, remembering the calendar.

  “I need to get my mask first, Annie, meet you there?” Catherine slurred.

  “Fine, I’ll catch you both by the punch bowl.”

  All three girls went their own ways.

  * * *

  The sorority was on an energy saving kick so only the odd hall light was illuminated. Mary Jane carefully checked some of the other rooms, then got bored and decided to head toward the party. As she descended the stairs she heard shuffling in the kitchen.

  “Mary-Ann?”

  Hesitating at the kitchen door she called out again, “Mary-Ann?”

  Silence.

  Her fingers hovered at the door handle, her mask lim
ply dripping from her other hand. She turned the handle and opened the door. On the floor in front of her was a lump of pink and red taffeta spread across the kitchen’s tiles.

  “Oh shit, Mary-Ann!” Her knees went weak and she dropped to eye level with the thing that used to be her friend. Mary-Ann’s mouth gaped open to reveal missing teeth and a cut running along her lolling tongue. Her massive hooped skirt was ripped open and spread to her sides like a scarlet speckled set of pink wings. And she was sliced from crotch to throat in one upward stroke.

  The bloody floor made it almost impossible for Mary Jane to get back on her feet, but when she heard an evil cackle coming from the corridor behind her she crawled toward the kitchen’s outer door, which led toward the garden.

  Stumbling out of the door, Mary Jane fell forward, her foot catching on a wet, long, squishy lump on the ground. With her movements, the house’s security lights flicked on, illuminating the warm oozing body of Annie, still attached to her intestines, which were stretched across the patio. A shadow dissected the lawn, a tall man in a top hat carrying a bag. Mary Jane stifled her screams.

  “Do behave, my painted lady. I only have tonight to finish my work.” The voice was deep and held a satisfied tone.

  “Help!” The word rushed out of her mouth and into the night. Unfortunately, it was lost to the frivolity of the New Year’s party down the street.

  Finding her balance, she took a deep breath and bolted toward White Chapel Hall.

  She’d made the short journey from her sorority house to the Hall so many times, she could have done it blindfolded, but now Mary Jane seemed to trip on every stray rock and stumble over every inch of uneven ground. All the while, she heard him walking calmly behind her. His breathing was slow and steady. His shadowy form was now becoming more solid.

  “Mary Jane?” Lizzie walked out of the Hall, carefully closing the door behind her.

  “Lizzie, help!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  As Lizzie ran toward her friend she was suddenly swept up in a roll of blackness. Mary Jane stared as she saw a hand from the shadow grab Lizzie’s throat to soften her screams.

  “Apologies dear lady, I never did get much time to spend with you,” the shadow said.