Santa Claws

For most children, Christmas is a celebration worth looking forward to. For thirteen-year-old Evan, it was something worth dreading.

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 wouldn't be long before Evan's excitement would give way to horror.

His mother 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 beside himself. 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 his mother 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 his mother 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?"

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 his worst moment. The nightmares got worse around Christmas. Those dreaded nightmares! He would dream of that evening, the evening his dad had slipped and fatally bumped his head on the way down the chimney, or he would dream of those claws, those needle-sharp claws that glinted like knives in the darkness, claws that could slice through him like butter if they gave so much as a flick.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Most kids grew out of their belief in Santa, came to accept that Santa was just another myth, 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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan was convinced Santa Claws was some kind of demon or other element of the supernatural that haunted Evan every Christmas. Santa Claws had been appearing ever since Evan's dad died, and though he was mostly absent during the year, he would come back around November, maybe late October. 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 - you guessed it - they were frequent around Christmas time. Santa Claws had taken its toll on Evan.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 made him reconsider.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan's head hurt every time he listened to Christmas carols. He knew that while they spoke of joy and happy times

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">'tis the season to be jolly, tra la la la la, la la la la <span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">it would never be like that for him. And he wasn't prepared to enjoy Christmas of his own free will anytime soon. It was Christmas that had caused his father's death.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 ever 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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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. Evan's mother had shut herself out from the world a while after she unexpectedly became a widow, but eventually she had come to terms with her husband's death and became a more loving mother to Evan than ever. 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's mum knew about Santa Claws, Evan had told her about him 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 his mother's shoulders, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make it seem like he was a child.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 mother blamed 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?

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan said good morning to his mother 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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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. Evan’s mother 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?

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 Evan’s mother slept in. Guns were Evan’s closest shot, and they were the only things they 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?

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 Evan’s mother went out to do some shopping, Evan went straight to the wardrobe doors and started burrowing through the clothes.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">It was then that he experienced the seizure.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 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, hanging organs and crimson brain tissue. He saw claws curling in front of his eyes, claws that could slice through him like butter if he did so much as blink…

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 his mother opened the door.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">“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, his mother didn’t pursue the subject any longer.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">In that one day, he 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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">The nightmares didn’t improve that night.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">***

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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. His mother 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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">As 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 his mother should enter the hallway, but she didn’t. The plan was looking successful.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">That day, Santa Claws talked to Evan. The words were spoken inside Evan’s head, but Evan knew who they belonged to. Evan was surprised to find he couldn’t remember most of the speech afterwards, but knew it had something to do with Evan’s plan. 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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Still, Evan wasn’t prepared to give up so quickly. He might have seen a lot of things that weren’t there that day, but Evan kept his thoughts on that loaded rifle.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">***

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 Evan’s mother asked him what had happened to his arm, he said that Stormo had scratched him. (Evan had a tabby cat called Stormo, and was no stranger to his scratches.)

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan’s mother didn’t notice the seizures and hallucinations, simply because he confined himself to his room all day. It was a pitiful existence, but Evan knew he had to do it to avoid suspicion. Evan’s mother 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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">The 23rd past 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, Evan’s mother walked on him having a seizure on his bed, but was able to avoid suspicion by saying he was in the middle of a nightmare.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 in his hands before 8:13.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan’s 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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">His hands opened the lounge door. He approached the fireplace. The curtains were drawn, the light were out. It was dark, and all Evan could see was an unnaturally tall shadow in the fireplace.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan could see the silhouette of a Santa Hat on the shadow, and was no stranger to the claws that hung at the shadow’s side. Evan felt the presence of Santa Claws, knew that soon he would somehow be able to see Santa Claws fully. Then he would raise the gun, pull the trigger and it would be over.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Or so he hoped.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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 what looked like chunks of rancid flesh… and worst of all, the long, knife-sharp set of claws that hung at each side.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan was terrified. He stood, paralyzed with fear, as Santa Claws grinned and raised his hands, which were now reaching toward him, the claws outstretched…

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">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.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">But as Evan stood frozen, his muscles stiffened, and his finger tightened around the trigger. Things seemed to freeze for a moment. Then there was a terrific bang and a blinding flash of light.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">The world faded to black.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">***

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan’s mother came and in and found Evan lying motionless by the fireplace. She had heard a bang and had come in to see what the noise was, and had found Evan holding her dead husband’s old hunting rifle.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Her first thought was that Evan had shot himself, but there was no noticeable bullet wound and Evan was clearly still breathing.

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">What had happened?

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Suddenly, Evan’s eyes flickered open and looked up at his mother. His face broke into a smile and he said, “I did it.”

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan’s mother stared blankly at him. “Did what?”

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan’s breathed what sounded like a sigh of relief. “I did it. I killed Santa Claws.”

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">Evan’s mother looked at him, concerned. It was then that her eyes darted over to the fireplace and saw the chilling message written on the brick wall. It was written in what looked like blood. It said:

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">HO HO HO

<span style="color: white; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-themecolor: background1;">I’M COMING FOR YOU