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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Horror/Scary · #1735374
An attempt to write a visceral horror story about Santa Claus in 666 words or less.
My little boy's entrails were hanging from its mouth.

The worst part was that I felt like it was my fault. You see, it had been a hard year. First, my husband left. I needed a new job to make ends meet. Then, my son, Billy, started acting just like his father. He was lazy. He didn't do well in school, and it really annoyed me when he started telling me what he wanted for Christmas that year. I ended up screaming at him that I didn't have time for that anymore.

It was my friend, Jill, who gave me the Krampus. Jill was never married, and she never had kids, but she was all up on charms, curses, and that new age stuff. She said that when a child acts up all the mother has to do is hold the Krampus and her problems go away.

So I wore the Krampus on a chain. It was an ugly thing that looked sort of like a reindeer, but it stood upright on two legs.

Billy's behavior didn't improve even though I held the Krampus in my hand constantly.

Then Christmas Eve came.

I was walking into our house when a voice said, "Merry Christmas!"

I turned to see an ugly old man with a disgusting unkempt beard come up the driveway. "What do you want?" I asked.

"Besides tidings of comfort and joy?" he said with a laugh. "I heard there's a little boy in this house who won't be getting any Christmas presents this year."

"How is that your business?" I snapped. "And how would you know about it anyway?"

The man smiled. "Billy told me. He seems like a very sad child."

I was alarmed. "Billy is not supposed to talk to strangers. I'll give him a good spanking."

"But maam--"

"Get away from my house, before I call the police." I ran inside and locked the door. Then, I spanked Billy and sent him to bed without supper.

That night, I woke up and thought I heard a sound. It sounded like someone was tapping on my door. I decided to go back to sleep, but then I heard something else. It sounded like something moving down the hall. Then, there was a loud roar, and I thought I heard Billy cry out.

I jumped out of bed and sprinted to Billy's room. I was too late. In the room there was full-sized Krampus. It looked like a giant man, but it had the head of a deer with long pointy antlers, and it seemed to have been mauling Billy. My little boy's entrails were hanging from its mouth.

I was so upset that I didn't even feel scared of the Krampus. I just ran downstairs with tears in my eyes, because somehow this was my fault. I knew it deep down.

Then there was the tapping at the door. I opened it and saw that same old man from the afternoon, but I didn't tell him to go away. I just fell into his arms and cried.

After awhile, he said, "Maam. I think I can help you. Show me your son." I led him up to Billy's room. The Krampus was there, but there wasn't much left of Billy except a lot of blood, a little hair, and some sticky-intestine like things."

The old man was not afraid of the Krampus. He just patted it on the head and said, "Be good." It seemed to understand. Then, he made a sign like a priest making a cross.

Pieces of Billy began to stand up and move together. The legs, the body, the arms, and even the head came together, and reassembled themselves. Billy came back to life, ran up to me, and gave me a hug. "I'm sorry I was bad, Mommy," he said.

"It's O.K." I said.

I looked at the old man lovingly. "Who are you anyway?"

He laughed. "My friends just call me Nick."

662 words
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