Santa Claws Part 2
Horror Stories - Santa Claws Part 2
Previous story, Santa Claws.
Paranoia. Or maybe Santa Claws was playing tricks on him. Either way, Evan didn't fancy seeing Santa Claws in the flesh. He had seen him already - five times to be exact - and would see him a sixth time, for every Christmas Eve at 8:13 p.m., the exact time his father had fallen, he appeared in the fireplace. And Evan was always there to watch him make an appearance.
It was then that Evan decided that this year, he was going to be prepared. It would be no different to any other year; Santa Claws would appear in the fireplace at exactly the same time as he had the year before, and the year before that, and the year before that year. Mum was never around - she always went to bed early on Christmas Eve, or stayed in bed the entire day. This time Evan wouldn't just be watching Santa Claws - he'd destroy Santa Claws once and for all. Why hadn't he thought of it before?
That day, Evan confined himself to the safety of his home or, more specifically, his bedroom. He distracted himself with computer games and other activities, while all the time planning how he was going to get rid of Santa Claws when he made an appearance.
Before his father died, he'd had a hunting rifle that hung on a hook in the wall. After his death, it had been hidden away inside his wardrobe which was, of course, in the bedroom Mum slept in. A gun was Evan's closest shot, and it was the only thing he could think of that might kill Santa Claws. What else was he supposed to do? Shout a few defiant words and attack Santa Claws with his bare hands?
His dead father's old hunting rifle was the only gun possible for Evan to obtain. The only problem was getting it out of the wardrobe without his mother catching him, and she was sure to get suspicious if she saw him taking a gun out of the wardrobe. This proved to be an easier task than Evan thought, however. When Mum went out to do some shopping, Evan went straight to the wardrobe doors and started burrowing through the clothes. It was then that he experienced the seizure.
Evan had just caught sight of the gun when a sudden jolt ran through his body. His muscles were paralyzed, his joints frozen in place. Evan was unable to do anything but stare helplessly as he fell backwards onto the wooden floor. Electricity ran through his body, which was now twitching madly on the floor. Shadows danced in front of his eyes as the visions began. He saw his father, now an ash-covered skeleton wearing a Santa Hat, leering down at him through empty eye sockets. He saw a Christmas Tree decorated with bloodied limbs, organs and what looked like unravelled intestines. He saw claws curling in front of his eyes, claws that would cut him in two if he did so much as blink.
Evan came to just as he heard the car pulling into the driveway. Frantically, his eyes darted around, searching for the hunting rifle. Something thin and black poking out from a pile of clothes caught his eye. The rifle! He snatched it up and bolted towards his room, not remembering to close the wardrobe door. He had just reached his bedroom when Mum opened the front door.
It wasn't until his mother called out to him an hour or so later, "Evan, have you been through my wardrobe?" that Evan remembered he had neglected to close the wardrobe door.
"Uhh... yeah," Evan replied, thinking quickly. "I was looking for a jacket. You know, since all my other ones are too small. It's pretty cold, with the snow and all." Evan was proud his voice didn't so much as quiver. Because of this, Mum didn't pursue the subject any longer.
In that one day, Evan experienced the seizure inside the wardrobe, frequent flashes of movement out of the corner of his eye, and a brief hallucination. Usually it was worse around this time, but Evan had it lucky. The nightmares didn't improve that night. The next day, Evan realized he had no bullets for the rifle. He had forgotten to find some in his panic to get out of the room before his mother saw. Mum didn't go out that day, but Evan decided to have a look through the wardrobe anyway, and if she asked, he'd make up the same lie as yesterday.
After some serious rummaging, he found three stray bullets hidden in a corner of the wardrobe in a plastic casing. This time, he didn't forget to close the wardrobe door. He put the bullets in his pocket in case Mum should enter the hallway, but she didn't. The plan was looking successful.
That day, Santa Claws talked to Evan. The words were spoken inside Evan's head, but Evan knew well who they belonged to. Evan found he couldn't remember most of the speech afterwards, but knew it had something to do with Evan's plan to kill Santa Claws. Of course - Santa Claws could get inside Evan's head, so why shouldn't he be able to read Evan's thoughts? This was what he had done. Still, Evan wasn't prepared to give up so quickly. That day, he might have seen a lot of things that weren't there, but Evan kept his thoughts on that loaded rifle.
On the 22nd of December, Evan not only heard Santa Claws and experienced his visions, but also felt Santa Claws on his own flesh. At one point it felt like a cat was running its claws across his arm, but no-one was there. Still, that didn't stop blood from flowing. When Mum asked him what had happened to his arm, he said that Stormo had scratched him. (Evan had an old tabby cat called Stormo, and was no stranger to his scratches.)
Mum didn't notice the seizures and hallucinations, simply because Evan confined himself to his room all day. It was a pitiful existence, but Evan knew he had to do it to avoid suspicion. Mum blamed it on what had happened with his father, relating it to past trauma and, as a consequence, feeling the need to shut himself away from what the experience had been related to - Christmas. Evan didn't have any problems with this.
The 23rd passed quickly, but the 24th was the worst day he had experienced so far. He spent much of his time being tormented by the demonic presence of Santa Claws, his frightening messages ringing in his ears. Once, Mum walked in the room while he was having a seizure on his bed, but was able to avoid suspicion by saying he was in the middle of a nightmare.
Time dragged on, as Evan became more and more tormented. Evan's mother went to bed early, as she normally did on Christmas Eve. This left Evan two more hours until Santa Claws made an appearance. Every past year, Evan had been at the fireplace at 8:13, but this was because Santa Claws had willed him to be there. He had felt his legs move and had been unable to stop them. Santa Claws wanted Evan to be there to see him in the flesh. This was why Evan made sure he had the rifle clutched tightly in his hands before the time came. Evan glanced at his watch nervously. No, he was past nervous - he was terrified. 8:13 came, and nothing happened. But at the 20-second mark, he felt his legs moving down the hallway towards the lounge.
His hands opened the lounge door. He approached the fireplace. The curtains were drawn, the lights were out. It was dark, and Evan could see nothing save the silhouette of Santa Claws in the fireplace. Evan could see the outline of a Santa Hat on his head, and was no stranger to the claws that hung at the shadow's side. Evan felt the presence of Santa Claws, knew that Santa Claws would soon be illuminated by a ghostly light and Evan would be able to see him in the flesh. Then he would raise the gun, pull the trigger and it would be over. Or so he hoped.
Evan stood there for what seemed like forever, then the empty, bleeding eye sockets came into view... that white, almost transparent skin... the sharp, bloodied set of teeth that showed from behind slimy lips... the tattered Santa suit smeared with the blood of innocent victims... and worst of all, the long, knife-sharp set of claws that hung at each side.
Evan was terrified. He stood paralyzed with fear as Santa Claws grinned and raised his hands towards him... Evan was unable to move, unable to do anything but watch as the claws came closer and closer to reaching him. It was too late to shoot now. It was all over. But as Evan stood frozen, his muscles stiffened, and his finger tightened around the trigger. There was a terrific bang and a blinding flash of light.
Then world faded to black. Evan woke to Mum shaking him frantically. He blinked, trying to figure out what had happened. Then he remembered. He had killed Santa Claws. Mum said she had heard a bang and had come in to see what the noise was. When she saw that Evan was holding the hunting rifle, her first thought was that Evan had shot himself, but she had seen that there was no noticeable bullet wound and Evan was clearly still breathing.
Evan was exhausted but too happy to comment. His face broke into a smile. "I did it," he whispered. Mum looked concerned. "You're not well, Evan. You're going to a doctor as soon as possible. I worry about you."
"I killed Santa Claws," Evan babbled, oblivious to his mother's concerns. He was overcome with the joy that Santa Claws would no longer be in his life.
"I'm not just worried about you, Evan. I'm also quite angry with you," Mum said, his eyebrows knitting into a scowl. "Somehow, you vandalized the fireplace. It looks like something out of a horror movie."
Evan frowned. "I never vandalized the fireplace."
Mum sighed. "Then how do you explain that?" she said, pointing.
Evan twisted his head around to face the fireplace. Solid crimson letters had been written on the brick wall behind the fireplace. The paint looked fresh, and Evan could see it still trickling down the wall. But not paint, Evan realized, but blood:
"Ho Ho Ho - I'm Coming For You."
Paranoia. Or maybe Santa Claws was playing tricks on him. Either way, Evan didn't fancy seeing Santa Claws in the flesh. He had seen him already - five times to be exact - and would see him a sixth time, for every Christmas Eve at 8:13 p.m., the exact time his father had fallen, he appeared in the fireplace. And Evan was always there to watch him make an appearance.
It was then that Evan decided that this year, he was going to be prepared. It would be no different to any other year; Santa Claws would appear in the fireplace at exactly the same time as he had the year before, and the year before that, and the year before that year. Mum was never around - she always went to bed early on Christmas Eve, or stayed in bed the entire day. This time Evan wouldn't just be watching Santa Claws - he'd destroy Santa Claws once and for all. Why hadn't he thought of it before?
That day, Evan confined himself to the safety of his home or, more specifically, his bedroom. He distracted himself with computer games and other activities, while all the time planning how he was going to get rid of Santa Claws when he made an appearance.
Before his father died, he'd had a hunting rifle that hung on a hook in the wall. After his death, it had been hidden away inside his wardrobe which was, of course, in the bedroom Mum slept in. A gun was Evan's closest shot, and it was the only thing he could think of that might kill Santa Claws. What else was he supposed to do? Shout a few defiant words and attack Santa Claws with his bare hands?
His dead father's old hunting rifle was the only gun possible for Evan to obtain. The only problem was getting it out of the wardrobe without his mother catching him, and she was sure to get suspicious if she saw him taking a gun out of the wardrobe. This proved to be an easier task than Evan thought, however. When Mum went out to do some shopping, Evan went straight to the wardrobe doors and started burrowing through the clothes. It was then that he experienced the seizure.
Evan had just caught sight of the gun when a sudden jolt ran through his body. His muscles were paralyzed, his joints frozen in place. Evan was unable to do anything but stare helplessly as he fell backwards onto the wooden floor. Electricity ran through his body, which was now twitching madly on the floor. Shadows danced in front of his eyes as the visions began. He saw his father, now an ash-covered skeleton wearing a Santa Hat, leering down at him through empty eye sockets. He saw a Christmas Tree decorated with bloodied limbs, organs and what looked like unravelled intestines. He saw claws curling in front of his eyes, claws that would cut him in two if he did so much as blink.
Evan came to just as he heard the car pulling into the driveway. Frantically, his eyes darted around, searching for the hunting rifle. Something thin and black poking out from a pile of clothes caught his eye. The rifle! He snatched it up and bolted towards his room, not remembering to close the wardrobe door. He had just reached his bedroom when Mum opened the front door.
It wasn't until his mother called out to him an hour or so later, "Evan, have you been through my wardrobe?" that Evan remembered he had neglected to close the wardrobe door.
"Uhh... yeah," Evan replied, thinking quickly. "I was looking for a jacket. You know, since all my other ones are too small. It's pretty cold, with the snow and all." Evan was proud his voice didn't so much as quiver. Because of this, Mum didn't pursue the subject any longer.
In that one day, Evan experienced the seizure inside the wardrobe, frequent flashes of movement out of the corner of his eye, and a brief hallucination. Usually it was worse around this time, but Evan had it lucky. The nightmares didn't improve that night. The next day, Evan realized he had no bullets for the rifle. He had forgotten to find some in his panic to get out of the room before his mother saw. Mum didn't go out that day, but Evan decided to have a look through the wardrobe anyway, and if she asked, he'd make up the same lie as yesterday.
After some serious rummaging, he found three stray bullets hidden in a corner of the wardrobe in a plastic casing. This time, he didn't forget to close the wardrobe door. He put the bullets in his pocket in case Mum should enter the hallway, but she didn't. The plan was looking successful.
That day, Santa Claws talked to Evan. The words were spoken inside Evan's head, but Evan knew well who they belonged to. Evan found he couldn't remember most of the speech afterwards, but knew it had something to do with Evan's plan to kill Santa Claws. Of course - Santa Claws could get inside Evan's head, so why shouldn't he be able to read Evan's thoughts? This was what he had done. Still, Evan wasn't prepared to give up so quickly. That day, he might have seen a lot of things that weren't there, but Evan kept his thoughts on that loaded rifle.
On the 22nd of December, Evan not only heard Santa Claws and experienced his visions, but also felt Santa Claws on his own flesh. At one point it felt like a cat was running its claws across his arm, but no-one was there. Still, that didn't stop blood from flowing. When Mum asked him what had happened to his arm, he said that Stormo had scratched him. (Evan had an old tabby cat called Stormo, and was no stranger to his scratches.)
Mum didn't notice the seizures and hallucinations, simply because Evan confined himself to his room all day. It was a pitiful existence, but Evan knew he had to do it to avoid suspicion. Mum blamed it on what had happened with his father, relating it to past trauma and, as a consequence, feeling the need to shut himself away from what the experience had been related to - Christmas. Evan didn't have any problems with this.
The 23rd passed quickly, but the 24th was the worst day he had experienced so far. He spent much of his time being tormented by the demonic presence of Santa Claws, his frightening messages ringing in his ears. Once, Mum walked in the room while he was having a seizure on his bed, but was able to avoid suspicion by saying he was in the middle of a nightmare.
Time dragged on, as Evan became more and more tormented. Evan's mother went to bed early, as she normally did on Christmas Eve. This left Evan two more hours until Santa Claws made an appearance. Every past year, Evan had been at the fireplace at 8:13, but this was because Santa Claws had willed him to be there. He had felt his legs move and had been unable to stop them. Santa Claws wanted Evan to be there to see him in the flesh. This was why Evan made sure he had the rifle clutched tightly in his hands before the time came. Evan glanced at his watch nervously. No, he was past nervous - he was terrified. 8:13 came, and nothing happened. But at the 20-second mark, he felt his legs moving down the hallway towards the lounge.
His hands opened the lounge door. He approached the fireplace. The curtains were drawn, the lights were out. It was dark, and Evan could see nothing save the silhouette of Santa Claws in the fireplace. Evan could see the outline of a Santa Hat on his head, and was no stranger to the claws that hung at the shadow's side. Evan felt the presence of Santa Claws, knew that Santa Claws would soon be illuminated by a ghostly light and Evan would be able to see him in the flesh. Then he would raise the gun, pull the trigger and it would be over. Or so he hoped.
Evan stood there for what seemed like forever, then the empty, bleeding eye sockets came into view... that white, almost transparent skin... the sharp, bloodied set of teeth that showed from behind slimy lips... the tattered Santa suit smeared with the blood of innocent victims... and worst of all, the long, knife-sharp set of claws that hung at each side.
Evan was terrified. He stood paralyzed with fear as Santa Claws grinned and raised his hands towards him... Evan was unable to move, unable to do anything but watch as the claws came closer and closer to reaching him. It was too late to shoot now. It was all over. But as Evan stood frozen, his muscles stiffened, and his finger tightened around the trigger. There was a terrific bang and a blinding flash of light.
Then world faded to black. Evan woke to Mum shaking him frantically. He blinked, trying to figure out what had happened. Then he remembered. He had killed Santa Claws. Mum said she had heard a bang and had come in to see what the noise was. When she saw that Evan was holding the hunting rifle, her first thought was that Evan had shot himself, but she had seen that there was no noticeable bullet wound and Evan was clearly still breathing.
Evan was exhausted but too happy to comment. His face broke into a smile. "I did it," he whispered. Mum looked concerned. "You're not well, Evan. You're going to a doctor as soon as possible. I worry about you."
"I killed Santa Claws," Evan babbled, oblivious to his mother's concerns. He was overcome with the joy that Santa Claws would no longer be in his life.
"I'm not just worried about you, Evan. I'm also quite angry with you," Mum said, his eyebrows knitting into a scowl. "Somehow, you vandalized the fireplace. It looks like something out of a horror movie."
Evan frowned. "I never vandalized the fireplace."
Mum sighed. "Then how do you explain that?" she said, pointing.
Evan twisted his head around to face the fireplace. Solid crimson letters had been written on the brick wall behind the fireplace. The paint looked fresh, and Evan could see it still trickling down the wall. But not paint, Evan realized, but blood:
"Ho Ho Ho - I'm Coming For You."