Santa Claws
Horror Stories - Santa Claws
For most children, Christmas is a celebration worth looking forward to. For thirteen-year-old Evan, it was something to fear. Evan still remembered his seventh Christmas Eve clearly, an evening that he, like most children, had been looking forward to for a long time. The next morning he would get up early and open all his presents, eager to see what surprises Santa had left him. Evan imagined the restless night ahead and thought, if he listened hard, he might be able to hear Santa come down the chimney. But this Christmas Eve didn't all go to plan. It wasn't long before Evan's excitement gave away to horror.
Mum had insisted that Santa wouldn't come if Evan stayed up late, and she had just began sending him off to bed when Evan was distracted by a loud, muffled thump on the roof. It seemed to be coming directly above the fireplace. It was like in the Night Before Christmas - "there arose such a clatter", and Evan approached the chimney to see what was the matter. Was it now that Santa had decided to make an appearance?
Ash was falling from the nooks and crannies of the chimney to the bottom of the fireplace, sending out charcoal smoke and a burnt smell. Something, someone, had to be disturbing the ash. Evan was alone. Who else went down the chimney at this time on Christmas Eve? The chimney rattled, and a deep, rolling voice hit the air. Santa's famous "ho, ho, ho!" echoed down the chimney as Evan watched in delight.
Things were silent for a moment. Evan's mother stood behind him, watching. Then arose the biggest clatter yet. There was an explosion of greyish smoke as mountains of ash fell to the bottom of the fireplace. The fireplace shook as if there was a sudden earthquake. Then, amidst the greyness, there was a flash of red, and a tremendous thump.
Had Santa made it? Evan rushed forward, unable to stop himself. He felt a flare of excitement, but Mum was first to the chimney. Evan tried to remember the last time his mother had expressed excitement, and couldn't. Then the smoke cleared, and the fallen Santa came into view. He didn't have quite the belly Evan had expected, but this was the least of his observations. Evan gasped as he saw that Santa's beard had appeared to slide off during his fall. But there was no blood - the only blood came from Santa's head, and it was just a trickle. The bad thing was that the trickle of blood was coming from what looked like a big dent in Santa's head.
Evan frowned. Santa couldn't die - he was too good for that! He couldn't die, not now. So had somebody played a trick on him? Evan glanced at the beard that had appeared to slide down Santa's face. Beards didn't move like that, at least not without there being blood. So then if it wasn't a real beard, it had to be a fake one. But if that was a fake beard, then Santa's suit was also a fake suit. This wasn't the real Santa - this was Santa in disguise! Evan glanced once more at the fake Santa's exposed features, trying to figure out who this person could be, and made sense of the face that seemed so familiar to him. He realized, for the first time, that Mum had never been excited. Instead, she had rushed to the fake Santa's body in grief. Sobs racked her body, her tears dripping on the fake Santa's suit. Evan stood, dumbfounded, and choked out one word. "Dad?"
Evan woke up in a cold sweat, bolting upright into a sitting position. He glanced at his watch and read the time. 2:19 a.m. Before the light on his watch went off, he read the date. December 20. Only five more days until Christmas. Once upon a time, Evan would have been happy about this, but now he wished that Christmas never came. It was the same dream again, accurate in every detail. That evening was exactly how it had been in the dream. It never ceased to amaze Evan how vivid these dreams were. They got right down to the core and forced Evan to relive the worst moment in his life. Those goddamn nightmares! They got worse around Christmas. He would dream of that fateful evening his father slipped and fell down the chimney, smashing his skull in on the way down, or he would dream of those claws, those razor-sharp strips of polished bone, weapons that could slice through him like butter if they gave so much as a flick.
Most kids grew out of their belief in Santa, came to accept that Santa was just another myth made up to make children happy, but Evan hadn't grown out of it. He had been jolted out of it, his belief shattered with the tragic death of his father. Evan's father had only been trying to surprise Evan, but he had done much more than that. He had bent Evan beyond repair. And every Christmas, Santa Claws would haunt Evan.
Evan was convinced Santa Claws was some kind of demon in humanoid form. He was definitely not human - he was a supernatural entity of sorts, but Evan had always thought of him as a demon. Santa Claws had been in Evan's life ever since his father died, and though he was mostly absent during the year, he would come back around November, maybe late October. When it became nearer to Christmas... well, he would become more persistent then. There were the nightmares, for one thing, and the visions, and Evan had no shortage of seizures around Christmas time, when Santa Claws was at his worst. Sometimes Evan had panic attacks that seemed to come from nowhere, and there was no doubt who had caused them. Evan was no stranger to bullying at school because of his seizures and his strong dislike for Christmas. Santa Claws had taken its toll on Evan.
Evan knew that Santa Claws had, in some way, been triggered by his father's death. Sometimes Evan believed that Santa Claws was actually his father's ghost, turned evil in the existence of the afterlife. Evan wasn't one to believe in the supernatural, but Santa Claws had changed his mind about a lot of things.
After a while, Evan had been forced to accept that Santa Claws was always going to come back. Even if Evan grew out of his own personal dislike for Christmas, he would never have a joyful Christmas again. It was Christmas that had caused his father's death. It was Christmas that had caused Santa Claws to come.
Evan's head flopped back on his pillow. School had finished weeks before, but Evan was still dreading the next day, and every day to come until Christmas. What Evan was looking forward to was the absence of Santa Claws. Santa Claws would hang around for a bit after Christmas, then he'd slowly fade away, and Evan would be free of his presence between February and November. Then he could forget about Christmas, pretend it never existed. But no matter what, Santa Claws would always come back... and Evan was sure he would never be free of his demonic existence again.
Evan woke early and rolled out of bed, opening his laptop without bothering to draw the curtains or turn on the light. He wanted to go online, check his Facebook, play some games, do anything to take his mind of Christmas and, more importantly, Santa Claws.
It was an hour or two before Evan sat down to a lazy breakfast of cornflakes, by which time Evan's mother had gotten out of bed. Mum had shut herself out from society a while after she unexpectedly became a widow, developing a strong case of depression. Eventually she had come to terms with her husband's death and became a more loving mother to Evan than ever, but she still had her bad days. Sometimes Evan wondered whether Santa Claws was in her mind, too. They both supported each other a lot, but Evan couldn't help but feel that the house was lonely every once in a while. Evan had told his mum about Santa Claws for the first few years after his father's death, but then he had decided to pretend he had outgrown it. He didn't want to put extra weight on Mum's shoulders, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make it seem like he was a child.
But Evan couldn't hide the seizures. He couldn't hide the fact that he was sometimes absorbed in a hallucination, often concerning Santa Claws. Evan's Mum seemed to blame it on the trauma he had received after his father's death - sure, maybe not all kids would experience that type of trauma, but everyone's different, aren't they? Evan said good morning to Mum and continued to eat his cornflakes. The fireplace was directly to his right, and Evan thought he could catch a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye. His head turned. Nothing.
Next story, Santa Claws Part 2.
Mum had insisted that Santa wouldn't come if Evan stayed up late, and she had just began sending him off to bed when Evan was distracted by a loud, muffled thump on the roof. It seemed to be coming directly above the fireplace. It was like in the Night Before Christmas - "there arose such a clatter", and Evan approached the chimney to see what was the matter. Was it now that Santa had decided to make an appearance?
Ash was falling from the nooks and crannies of the chimney to the bottom of the fireplace, sending out charcoal smoke and a burnt smell. Something, someone, had to be disturbing the ash. Evan was alone. Who else went down the chimney at this time on Christmas Eve? The chimney rattled, and a deep, rolling voice hit the air. Santa's famous "ho, ho, ho!" echoed down the chimney as Evan watched in delight.
Things were silent for a moment. Evan's mother stood behind him, watching. Then arose the biggest clatter yet. There was an explosion of greyish smoke as mountains of ash fell to the bottom of the fireplace. The fireplace shook as if there was a sudden earthquake. Then, amidst the greyness, there was a flash of red, and a tremendous thump.
Had Santa made it? Evan rushed forward, unable to stop himself. He felt a flare of excitement, but Mum was first to the chimney. Evan tried to remember the last time his mother had expressed excitement, and couldn't. Then the smoke cleared, and the fallen Santa came into view. He didn't have quite the belly Evan had expected, but this was the least of his observations. Evan gasped as he saw that Santa's beard had appeared to slide off during his fall. But there was no blood - the only blood came from Santa's head, and it was just a trickle. The bad thing was that the trickle of blood was coming from what looked like a big dent in Santa's head.
Evan frowned. Santa couldn't die - he was too good for that! He couldn't die, not now. So had somebody played a trick on him? Evan glanced at the beard that had appeared to slide down Santa's face. Beards didn't move like that, at least not without there being blood. So then if it wasn't a real beard, it had to be a fake one. But if that was a fake beard, then Santa's suit was also a fake suit. This wasn't the real Santa - this was Santa in disguise! Evan glanced once more at the fake Santa's exposed features, trying to figure out who this person could be, and made sense of the face that seemed so familiar to him. He realized, for the first time, that Mum had never been excited. Instead, she had rushed to the fake Santa's body in grief. Sobs racked her body, her tears dripping on the fake Santa's suit. Evan stood, dumbfounded, and choked out one word. "Dad?"
Evan woke up in a cold sweat, bolting upright into a sitting position. He glanced at his watch and read the time. 2:19 a.m. Before the light on his watch went off, he read the date. December 20. Only five more days until Christmas. Once upon a time, Evan would have been happy about this, but now he wished that Christmas never came. It was the same dream again, accurate in every detail. That evening was exactly how it had been in the dream. It never ceased to amaze Evan how vivid these dreams were. They got right down to the core and forced Evan to relive the worst moment in his life. Those goddamn nightmares! They got worse around Christmas. He would dream of that fateful evening his father slipped and fell down the chimney, smashing his skull in on the way down, or he would dream of those claws, those razor-sharp strips of polished bone, weapons that could slice through him like butter if they gave so much as a flick.
Most kids grew out of their belief in Santa, came to accept that Santa was just another myth made up to make children happy, but Evan hadn't grown out of it. He had been jolted out of it, his belief shattered with the tragic death of his father. Evan's father had only been trying to surprise Evan, but he had done much more than that. He had bent Evan beyond repair. And every Christmas, Santa Claws would haunt Evan.
Evan was convinced Santa Claws was some kind of demon in humanoid form. He was definitely not human - he was a supernatural entity of sorts, but Evan had always thought of him as a demon. Santa Claws had been in Evan's life ever since his father died, and though he was mostly absent during the year, he would come back around November, maybe late October. When it became nearer to Christmas... well, he would become more persistent then. There were the nightmares, for one thing, and the visions, and Evan had no shortage of seizures around Christmas time, when Santa Claws was at his worst. Sometimes Evan had panic attacks that seemed to come from nowhere, and there was no doubt who had caused them. Evan was no stranger to bullying at school because of his seizures and his strong dislike for Christmas. Santa Claws had taken its toll on Evan.
Evan knew that Santa Claws had, in some way, been triggered by his father's death. Sometimes Evan believed that Santa Claws was actually his father's ghost, turned evil in the existence of the afterlife. Evan wasn't one to believe in the supernatural, but Santa Claws had changed his mind about a lot of things.
After a while, Evan had been forced to accept that Santa Claws was always going to come back. Even if Evan grew out of his own personal dislike for Christmas, he would never have a joyful Christmas again. It was Christmas that had caused his father's death. It was Christmas that had caused Santa Claws to come.
Evan's head flopped back on his pillow. School had finished weeks before, but Evan was still dreading the next day, and every day to come until Christmas. What Evan was looking forward to was the absence of Santa Claws. Santa Claws would hang around for a bit after Christmas, then he'd slowly fade away, and Evan would be free of his presence between February and November. Then he could forget about Christmas, pretend it never existed. But no matter what, Santa Claws would always come back... and Evan was sure he would never be free of his demonic existence again.
Evan woke early and rolled out of bed, opening his laptop without bothering to draw the curtains or turn on the light. He wanted to go online, check his Facebook, play some games, do anything to take his mind of Christmas and, more importantly, Santa Claws.
It was an hour or two before Evan sat down to a lazy breakfast of cornflakes, by which time Evan's mother had gotten out of bed. Mum had shut herself out from society a while after she unexpectedly became a widow, developing a strong case of depression. Eventually she had come to terms with her husband's death and became a more loving mother to Evan than ever, but she still had her bad days. Sometimes Evan wondered whether Santa Claws was in her mind, too. They both supported each other a lot, but Evan couldn't help but feel that the house was lonely every once in a while. Evan had told his mum about Santa Claws for the first few years after his father's death, but then he had decided to pretend he had outgrown it. He didn't want to put extra weight on Mum's shoulders, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make it seem like he was a child.
But Evan couldn't hide the seizures. He couldn't hide the fact that he was sometimes absorbed in a hallucination, often concerning Santa Claws. Evan's Mum seemed to blame it on the trauma he had received after his father's death - sure, maybe not all kids would experience that type of trauma, but everyone's different, aren't they? Evan said good morning to Mum and continued to eat his cornflakes. The fireplace was directly to his right, and Evan thought he could catch a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye. His head turned. Nothing.
Next story, Santa Claws Part 2.