by ALAN TONER
CHRISTMAS CHILLERS
by Alan Toner
www.alantoner.com
Copyright © 2019 Alan Toner
www.alantoner.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
About The Author
Alan Toner was born on Merseyside. He has always enjoyed writing and has had many of his articles and short stories published in various magazines and books.
His official website is: www.alantoner.com
Other Books by Alan Toner
True Ghost Stories
True Ghost Stories 2
True Ghost Stories 3
True Ghost Stories 4
Horror Stories
Horror Stories 2
Haunted Objects
100 True Ghost Stories
100 True Ghost Stories Vol. 2
Scary Urban Legends
Creepy Doll Movies
50 Celebrity Hauntings
200 Ghost Stories
Top Giallo Movies
CONTENTS
Chapter One: A Christmas Ghost Story
Chapter Two: Silent Fright
Chapter Three: Christmas Is Coming
Chapter Four: Calling On Krampus
Season’s Greetings From The Author
CHAPTER 1: A CHRISTMAS GHOST STORY
Christmas Eve was just a week away, and already the children of the little market town of Clarnthorpe were excitedly anticipating Santa's arrival, all speculating on what possible goodies he would have in his sack for them on that wonderful night.
Little Lucy Evans, 8 years old and still deeply missing her dad, who had been killed in military action whilst serving in Afghanistan at the beginning of the year, was one of those children who could barely wait for Christmas Eve to come. Like most of the kids down her road, she still believed in Father Christmas, and it was an annual treat in her household to wake up early on Christmas morning to find all her presents at the foot of her bed which dear old Santa Claus had left for her in the night while she was fast asleep. Yes, Lucy loved Christmas, but of course this year the holiday would be tinged with sadness, for it would be the first Christmas that she and her mummy would be spending without dad.
Trying not to get too upset again at the thought of her deceased father, Lucy forced herself to concentrate on the brightly decorated market around which she was strolling with her mother. Every stall was festooned with glinting tinsel and multi-coloured decorations and various Christmas cards, and the large Christmas tree in the middle of the market floor, its branches adorned with fairy lights, enhanced the general brightness of the yuletide atmosphere wonderfully. And to top it all, over the loud speaker Slade's evergreen classic 'Merry Christmas Everybody' boomed out.
"Hey, it's snowing outside," announced a plump middle-aged man, his overcoat dotted with flecks of white, as he came in through the market entrance and passed Lucy and her mother.
"Is it really?" Lucy's mother (whose name was Janice) said. "Mind you, it has been cold enough for snow, hasn't it?"
"Sure has," the man replied over his shoulder, brushing the flecks of snow from his coat with a gloved hand. "We might have a white Christmas, you never know."
"Yes," Janice agreed with a nod, "we might."
"Hope we do, Mum," her daughter said, her pretty blue eyes gleaming approvingly at the thought. "It'll give it the atmosphere."
Janice smiled down affectionately at her daughter and gently patted her on the head. "Yes, it will, love." Janice couldn't remember the last time they'd had a white Christmas in Britain. America always seemed to have one, though - if all those seasonal movies and shows, with their seemingly perpetual snowy landscapes, were anything to go by.
On the loudspeaker, Slade had now finished, to be followed by another seasonal evergreen: 'I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day' by Wizzard. Over by the butcher's stall, an apron-clad young man was vocally promoting the latest special offers on the Christmas turkeys. At the toy stall, an Asian assistant was putting out on display the latest Playstation 3 game releases. As mother and daughter threaded their way through the throng of Christmas shoppers, Janice suddenly spotted something that immediately drew her interest.
"Hey," she said, "I haven't seen that before."
Lucy looked up at mother quizzically. "What?"
Janice nodded in the direction she'd meant. "That stall over there. Must be a new one."
Lucy followed her mother's gaze, then gave a nod and said, "Oh, yeah, I see it."
Janice too her daughter's mittened hand. "Come on. Let's go over and have a look."
The stall was situated at the very end of the market hall, just opposite the EXIT doors. To judge by all the various curiosities on display - ornaments, pictures, plates, small tin boxes and various other items - it looked to Janice to be some kind of mini antique shop. The stall was run by an old woman, who looked to be in her late sixties. Her grey hair was tied back in a bun, her scrawny body was wrapped in a thick green shawl, and her hands were liver-spotted. As Janice and Lucy approached her stall, the woman's thin, bloodless lips spread in a smile of greeting.
"Well, good afternoon," she said to Janice, in a voice that was slightly croaky. Then she lowered her watery-brown eyes to Lucy, adding: "And hello to you too, little lady. My, you look nice and warm there, all wrapped up in your winter woolies."
Lucy just smiled back up at the woman without making any comment.
"Hi," Janice said to the woman, reciprocating her smile. She cast her eyes all over the stall's stock. "Nice selection of stuff you have here."
The woman nodded, still wearing her amiable smile. "I like to think so. A lot of it is imported from abroad, you know. Some of it is quite rare too."
"Really?" Janice's eyebrows arched, her curiosity piqued. Taking another moment to scan her eyes over the various items, she picked up a rather ornate snuff box, raised it closer to her face for further inspection, and commented, "I like this."
"Yes, it's quite nice, isn't it?" the woman said. "It's from the late Victorian era."
Janice gently put the snuff box back down as her eyes caught sight of another, equally appealing item, this time a rather quaint little porcelain ballerina. Again, she raised it closer to her eyes to inspect it. "I love this too," she said.
The woman smiled. "I agree. It's one of my own personal favourites too. Reminds me of my granddaughter, who loves ballet and has actually won a prize for her dancing. I'm very proud of her."
"I'll bet you are," Janice said, carefully replacing the ballerina on its stand. At her side, little Lucy just watched her mother mutely. Unlike her mother, she'd always found places selling old-fashioned ornaments a bit boring. By contrast, like most children of her age, she loved the toy stall, and could browse through that for hours. She hoped her mother would stop by the toy stall in here for a few minutes on the way home, even though she hadn't much money today to buy her daughter anything she might desire. Times were hard financially, and as her mother had repeatedly drummed into her these past few weeks, she would have to wait until Christmas Eve, and Santa's arrival with all this goodies, for any really expensive presents.
Janice was just about to say goodbye to the woman and walk away from the stall when her eyes caught sight of another item, which was standing just behind an old stuffed Teddy bear. The red-and-white body of this third object that had captured her fancy instantly told her it was: a Santa Claus figurine. About a foot
tall, with a traditionally jolly face and holding out an opened sack in his two gloved hands, the Father Christmas figure did not look quite as old and faded as most of the other items on the stall, its well-painted body making it look almost brand new. It could have even come straight out of the latest Christmas range of the big department stores. In fact, the figurine seemed to stand out from all the surrounding items, its apparent newness giving it a rather incongruous aspect against the general antiquity of all the rest.
"Hey," Janice enthused, reaching for the Santa figure, "I like this." She picked it up.
The old woman smiled. "You're not the first to have said that, dear. He always draws the customers' eyes." Then she slowly shook her head, as if finding something about the figurine that she just couldn't understand. "I'm surprised that nobody has snapped him up yet, though."
Janice looked up at the woman, a decisive glint in her eye. "Well, I think all that's about to change.” Then she flicked her gaze back to the Santa figurine, which she held appraisingly in her hands. "I love him. I'll take him."
The old woman's wizened face lit up with delight. "Really?"
Janice nodded. "How much?"
"Three pounds to you, dear."
"Fine. I can just about manage that." She put the Santa figurine down while she rummaged in her handbag for her purse. Beside her, daughter Lucy continued to remain impassive to the quaint delights of the antique stall, just watching her mother mutely as she handed the woman three one pound coins. It was so typical of her mother to set her heart on something, especially an ornament. And if it happened to be a Christmas ornament, well, her mother just HAD to have it. To be honest, Lucy didn't really see the point of her mother buying any more Christmas ornaments, for the house was full enough already with all kinds of decorations, especially snow globes and models of Santa. The place was becoming like a grotto and junk shop all rolled into one, when you included all her other ornaments too. Poor Dad used to say to her, "Christ, you could open a bloody ornament shop in here, with all this stuff." And Lucy certainly seconded her deceased father's sentiments, though she never really made her thoughts as clear to her mother as her father had.
"Oh, by the way, I should tell you something," the woman said as she took Janice's money and started to wrap up the ornament.
"What?"
"Well, there's a little story attached to this figurine."
Janice's eyebrows arched with interest. "Oh yes?"
"Mm," the woman said with a nod. "It's supposed to have . . . well, certain magical properties."
Janice's jaw dropped in surprise. "Really? What kind of 'magical properties'?"
"Well, according to the dealer I bought it off, it's supposed to grant wishes on Christmas Eve." She held the Santa nearer to Janice and pointed at some gold lettering engraved on the side of its square black base. "See this verse here?"
"Yes," Janice nodded, craning her neck forward for a closer look.
"Well, just read what it has to say, and you'll get some idea of what I'm talking about."
Janice mentally read the verse. Although comprised of only a few lines, somehow the words of that verse touched and captured Janice's imagination quite sharply. She had always been fascinated by objects with a story around them.
The verse read:
ON CHRISMAS EVE, IF YOU'RE FEELING BLUE
JUST MAKE A WISH
AND YOUR DREAMS WILL COME TRUE
Janice smiled approvingly. "That's a nice little verse."
"It is indeed," the woman agreed, also smiling.
Then a kind of faraway, contemplative look appeared in Janice's eyes as she said, "You know, I might just do that: make a little wish, just before I go to bed on Christmas Eve."
"You do that, dear," the woman said. She finished wrapping the Santa up in brown paper, sellotaped it, but before she handed it to Janice, she paused for a moment and raised her forefinger so that it pointed towards the ceiling, like the horror actor Peter Cushing would often do in his films when he had an important point to make. "Oh, and a word of warning."
Janice looked at the woman curiously. "What?"
"If you are definitely going to make a wish, make sure you keep it to yourself until the wish actually comes true."
Janice frowned. "Why do you say that?"
"Well, from what I've been told, if you reveal your wish to anybody - even to your closest relative - it's unlucky. The wish may not even come true."
"Oh, right," Janice said, slowly nodding her head. The woman's cautionary advice soured somewhat Janice's hitherto dreamy delight at buying a Santa statue with apparent magical powers to grant wishes. This led her to wonder if this figurine was really all it was cracked up to be. Even so, she was still going to go ahead and buy it anyway. She liked it. Magical powers or not, it would look great alongside all her other Christmas ornaments.
The woman immediately noticed Janice's expression and, getting the misconception that she wasn't going to buy after all, hastened to assure her. "Oh, don't worry, dear. You can tell everybody what you wished for after the wish has come true. It's perfectly okay to do that then. Why, you can tell the whole world if you want." She then gave a short laugh.
On hearing this, Janice's face brightened again as she took the figurine from the woman. "Oh, well, that's all right then. I'll make sure I remember that when the time comes for me to make my wish.
The woman just smiled at Janice. "Happy Christmas then, dear." Her eyes flicked down to Lucy. "And to you too, little lady."
Lucy managed a smile at the woman. "Happy Christmas."
"Yes, have a good one," Janice said, slipping her purchase into her bag before turning round, taking her daughter's hand and heading back through the bustling shoppers.
As she stopped by the toy stall, in compliance with her daughter's request to do so before they headed back home, she reflected again on what the old woman had said about the apparently golden rule governing wishing on the Santa figurine: Don’t reveal your wish to anybody . . . It’s unlucky . . . Wait until the wish comes true . . .
She shook her head slightly at the thought. Some of these antique ornaments could carry some strange stories about them.
Some very strange stories indeed.
Although Christmas Eve did not actually see any snowfall, it was still a bitterly cold night, an icy Arctic wind blowing through the frost-glistening streets of Clarnthorpe and forcing many people to stay indoors by their cosy, warm fires. And that is exactly what Janice and her daughter Lucy were doing themselves.
On the television screen in front of them, Holly Willoughby was just presenting a spot in her Christmas Special linking up servicemen in Afghanistan with their loved ones in the UK. The instant this flashed on the screen, little Lucy, seated by her mother on the sofa, pulled a sad, disapproving face.
“Mummy,” she said, “can we switch over to another channel, watch something a bit more cheerful? It’s depressing, this. Makes me think of poor Dad.”
Janice wrapped a comforting arm around her daughter’s shoulders and gave her a gentle smile. “I know what you mean, Babe. Makes me feel sad too. Yes, of course we’ll switch over.” She picked up the remote control and flicked through the channels. Lucy stopped her at the Disney Channel, where a Christmas movie was about to start, all about Santa and his adventures in the North Pole.
And just as the clips of the military servicemen in Afghanistan had pricked Lucy’s memory about her deceased father, so the image of Santa Claus in this movie made Janice think of the Santa figurine she’s bought from the market, and its purported ability to grant wishes. And the more Janice thought about it, the more the desire grew in her to actually put the figurine to the test, make a wish before she went to bed, just after they’d watched midnight mass on TV.
Janice glanced over at the Santa figurine, which she’s placed on top of the ornament cabinet alongside all her other Christmas items, and smiled to herself. Yes, she thought, I shall definitely be making a Christmas wish later on. And she kne
w already what she was going to wish for.
She just hoped that her daughter, if she made a wish too - and Janice was sure that she would – would not wish for the same thing as herself, for that would be a wish wasted.
It was 2.30 a.m.
Early Christmas morning, and Lucy lay fast asleep in her warm, cosy bed. She’d now made her secret wish, as she’d placed her hand on the Santa figurine, closed her eyes and concentrated, with all her might, on the thing she wanted for Christmas more than anything else in the world. Her mother had done the same. In accordance with the stall owner’s warning not to divulge their wishes, they had then just retired to their respective bedrooms, both inwardly hoping that the coming Christmas Day would bring them just that extra little bit of happiness after the horrendous year they’d had with tragically losing a dear father and loving husband.
Lucy was in such a deep sleep that she was totally oblivious to what was now starting to happen in her bedroom: the door handle was slowly turning, the door then gently – oh so gently – pushed open. And white-bearded, red-clad figure crept into the room.
Santa had arrived.
Pausing at the foot of the sleeping girl’s bed, he reached into his sack for something: a present so bulky that he had to use his two brown-gloved hands to lift it out.
Parcel now cradled against his chest, he gently placed it down at the foot of Lucy’s bed.
Job done, Santa lifted up his sack, swung it back over his shoulder, and turned to leave the room, the silver bell at the end of his hat jangling softly as he went. But just before he exited out the door, he stopped for a moment, threw one final affectionate look over his shoulder at the peacefully sleeping girl, and uttered a departing message that seemed to echo softly through the whole house:
“Merry Christmas.”
Christmas morning dawned bright and unseasonably sunny. Although there was still a touch of frost on the ground, it didn’t seem quite as cold as it had been yesterday.
Janice was roused from a deep sleep around 9.00 a.m. by her excited daughter, as the girl ran into her room and shouted, “Mummy, Mummy, Santa’s been!”