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  • A fire faintly lit the room in a fluorescent glow, giving it a homely feeling. The warmth spread to every corner of the house, and in the edge of the room to the right stood the Christmas tree. Its dazzling beauty brought awe to the man who stood in the center of the living room, who had recently come down the chimney. He was a tall man and fat at that. He was dressed in a heavy red jacket lined with white fur. His eyes sparkled as he witnessed the lights wrapped around the tree, reflecting off of the ornaments hanging on its green branches. The large man sniffed the air from the surrounding room. The smell of pine entered his nose, causing his lips to curve into a smile. He slowly stepped over to the fireplace, the fire burning as bright as ever. Above it hung velvet stockings with silver lining laced into the fabric to spell the words, Dad and Sarah. The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a brown bag. With a swift motion, he pulled a single candy cane out of the bag and gently placed them into the stockings named Sarah with care. He glared at the stocking named dad for a second before breaking his ice-cold stare away. With this, he moved into the kitchen.


    He entered the kitchen and trudged to the counter where a strange odor immediately struck the large man in the nose. The smell of hard liquor was accompanied by a porcelain plate set upon the table in the center of the room. There sat a glass of milk beside the freshly baked chocolate cookies stacked on top of each other. Pleased, the man reached for the glass and gulped the milk down. He rubbed the mustache he had recently acquired off of his face with his arm and allowed his gaze to return to the cookies. He ogled them for a few seconds, hunger in his eyes. Soon after, he grabbed one and placed it in his mouth, munching the small chunks between his teeth which were as white as snow. The crumbs fell from his mouth and into his scraggly beard as the jolly fellow continued on to the base of the stairwell. He reached his hands out to guide himself upwards until he stumbled upon the second level of the house.


    Paper cut-outs of snowflakes hung in the long corridor. The moonlight seeped through the windows of the hall which gave an eerie glow. The man took a step forward which caused the wooden floor to gently creak, halting his advance. His eyes darted around the house, not daring to move a muscle. Dust bunnies floated through the air and silence became ever-present to the point where one could hear a single pin drop. The man held his breath and then gently released it, carefully taking another step forward. With each creak, he stopped in fear of exposure. However, nobody seemed to hear the unannounced visitor. Before long the man arrived at a wooden door near the end of the hall. He saw the door at the end of the room as well. It was where the child slept, but not soundly. The large man knew of her bruises and pain at the hands of the one she should have trusted the most. Santa knew all of the children after all.


    Turning his attention back to the door in front of him, he gripped the brass handle, its surface frozen. He twisted the knob and opened the door, leaving it ajar. A single figure in was laying down in a bed, their specific details concealed by the shadows of the room.  The man walked to the side of the bed and lifted a picture that sat on the dresser. The photo contained a family. A man, a woman, and a small girl. The man smiled for a second before setting the frame down. Next to where the photo was originally positioned sat more bottles of liquor. Several bottles sat empty and several more filled to the brim. And on the floor beside the bed was a long leather belt, bloodied on the metal area.


    Judging by the large frame of a figure under the cover, the man presumed they were the parents in the photograph. Or, at least, one of them. A frown crawled onto the man face as he uncovered the sheets to reveal the father from the photograph. Enraged, the man grabbed the pillow on the other side of the bed and brought it down to the father face. The father's body instantly began to tremble as he clawed at the large man, desperately trying to remove the pillow. It was a fruitless effort, the pillow and the might of the man proving too powerful. The inhuman strength he possessed outmatched the father's strength tenfold. The father's arms dropped down the side of the bed as his body went limp. He wouldn't hurt her again. The jolly fellow made sure of that.


    Once the deed was done, the man pulled the covers over the corpse and retreated to the window at the back of the room. The silky white snow gently fell to the ground in a peaceful manner. The night sky sparkled with the twinkling stars, and the man's eyes twinkled aswell. He exited the room and took a deep sigh, unhappy he had to do such things. It was when he was about to turn around and leave, however, that remembered the door at the very end of the hall. The girl's room. The man crept forth with silent footsteps, careful not to stir the girl from her slumber.  Opening the door, he found himself in a slightly lit room thanks to a small night light plugged into a wall. Pink snowflakes emitted from the light danced about on the blue ceiling in a soothing pattern. In the very corner of the room was a small bed in the shape of a car. The man approached it. He gently lifted the covers to reveal the body underneath them. And there, comfortably resting in bed, was the little girl from the picture frame.


    He stooped down to the girls level and watched her sleep. His teeth practically touched his ears as he leaned over her and sniffed her delicate blond hair. The girl grunted in her sleep, not seeming to notice the presence in her room. Scars and bruises covered her back and shoulders, and patches of her skin were scarred. The man licked his thumb, covering it in moist salvia. He gently cooed as he rubbed the girl's cheek ever so slightly as not to awake her. For several minutes, the man couldn't help but watch her until he eventually pressed his soft, moist lips against her forehead for a few seconds. He then spoke ever so gently into her ear, his voice raspy and queer.


    "Have a Merry Christmas little girl. May all your wishes come true"


    With that, the jolly fat man exited the room and snuck back to the living room, where the tree still stood in all its glimmering glory. He had left a large red sack on the couch earlier, and he went to retreive it. He brought the bag to the tree and opened the sack, withdrawing presents, toys, and all sorts of candies. After proceeding to set several presents under the tree, the man exited the cozy home. Now in the crisp winter air, he looked back upon the house. He smirked slightly, relishing the night. He had delivered the joy of Christmas to a little girl which needed it, and for that he was proud. He walked away, his large footprints covered soon after by the fresh snowflakes which gently fell to the ground. 


    The sun rose over the horizon, its bright, orange glow cleansing the land of its darkness and revealing the shimmering snow spread across the plains. A little girl woke from her slumber and hopped out of bed. She let out a quick yawn before hustling to her parent's bedroom. Her face was dull, and her energy lackluster as she reluctantly headed for her father's the room and by his bed. She hesitantly poked at his body, her face a blank canvas. He didn't wake up. He hardly even showed any signs of motion at all. Again, she tried to wake him up but to no avail. She frowned a bit at this, but not for long. She wanted to go open what presents she got from Santa. She knew that he wouldn't want her to open the presents without him there to see her, but she also didn't feel like waiting for him to get up and drag himself to the tree with her either. Hanging her head low, she knew what choice she had to make, lest she is punished.


    She dragged herself away from the room, completely overcome with boredom. Wandering back to her room, she sat down on the edge of her bed and sat. Her eyes wandered to the floor of her room, where the smooth beige carpet had an imprint. 


    An imprint of a foot, and a large one at that. 



    dear santai hope you and the reindeer are doing ok. i know that you are busy with the other kids so i wont ask for alot. all i really want for christmas is my dad to be ok. its been a while since mommy left and daddy has not been the same. he yells alot more now and hurts me. i dont know why but i just want it to stop. please help my daddy santaits all i want. 

    love, 

    sarah 

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    • It's a solid story: a for me previously unseen take on a "killer in a home" template. 

      But there are a few faults.

      First and foremost, how did Santa get in the house?

      Second; what is the reason for the plot? Why did Santa kill the parents but spare the kid? Why did he leave the presents for her? What are his motives?

      Third: even a kid of young age (I guess she's 5-7) would notice bloody sheets and the fact that her parents are friggin dead. A stab in the neck genetares more blood than a stab to most other parts of body. Their bedroom should look a horse's nosebleed.

      Fourth: is Santa a someone or something?

      There are also several G-errors/Typos, as well as occasional double spacing.

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    • All of those gifts were all for her. It was the perfect Christmas day.

      I get what you are going for, its done well. However it makes me wonder why did Santa kill the parents? Expecially with the last line. Did the parents do something bad? Was the kid unhappy? Why did he kill in the first place? I am not saying that you should spell it out, maybe put some hints in and allude to something. Just due to a single tone shift and murder by itself is not that scary.

      Has opportunity, keep at it

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    • RealGlueboy wrote:

      All of those gifts were all for her. It was the perfect Christmas day.

      I get what you are going for, its done well. However it makes me wonder why did Santa kill the parents? Expecially with the last line. Did the parents do something bad? Was the kid unhappy? Why did he kill in the first place? I am not saying that you should spell it out, maybe put some hints in and allude to something. Just due to a single tone shift and murder by itself is not that scary.

      Has opportunity, keep at it


      Thanks for the replies from both of you. Sorry I have taken a bit to respond but I genuinely have not had the time. When I wrote this I wasn't trying to go for it to be Santa, but rather a guy dressed as Santa with nothing special about him. I could go with it being santa, and maybe then i could hint at Santa discovering the child was abused? Maybe then the motivations would be more clear.


        Loading editor
    • I enjoyed this quite a bit. You really captured that middle-of-the-night / everyone's asleep feeling. Creepy and heartwarming at the same time. There's still some grammar issues. Here's a line I think needs fixing:

      His lips practically touched his ears and he leaned over her and sniffed her delicate blond hair.

      It should probably be: His lips practically touched her ears as he leaned over her and sniffed her delicate blonde hair.

      I think there was a missing period somewhere and another incorrect pronoun, but if you eagle eye it one more time you should find them.

      My one suggestion: what if it was implied that the girl asked Santa to save her from her abusive father? Just a thought.

        Loading editor
    • Umbrello wrote: I enjoyed this quite a bit. You really captured that middle-of-the-night / everyone's asleep feeling. Creepy and heartwarming at the same time. There's still some grammar issues. Here's a line I think needs fixing:

      His lips practically touched his ears and he leaned over her and sniffed her delicate blond hair.

      It should probably be: His lips practically touched her ears as he leaned over her and sniffed her delicate blonde hair.

      I think there was a missing period somewhere and another incorrect pronoun, but if you eagle eye it one more time you should find them.

      My one suggestion: what if it was implied that the girl asked Santa to save her from her abusive father? Just a thought.

      That's actually a pretty good idea, I think i'd like to try that. I've thought of two ways to implement that. Perhaps I could put it in subtly, or maybe I could write a note to santa in italics before the story begins. Thanks a lot!!

        Loading editor
    • The redux of your story is much, much better than the original, I'll say that.

      As Umbrello pointed out, there are still several grammar, formatting, and punctuation errors, but these are few and minor, and now that Empy left, chances are that the story will survive long enough for me or someone else to give it one final polish. 

      Good job, and keep it up. 

        Loading editor
    • Helel ben Shahaar wrote: The redux of your story is much, much better than the original, I'll say that.

      As Umbrello pointed out, there are still several grammar, formatting, and punctuation errors, but these are few and minor, and now that Empy left, chances are that the story will survive long enough for me or someone else to give it one final polish. 

      Good job, and keep it up. 

      Thanks, I'll probably clean it up a bit first.

        Loading editor
    • I gotta say, this is much better! Sadly there is not too much that I can add that hasnt already been said. But keep working at the story and keep looking for advice and critizism. Just clean up some grammar and work at it!

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    • A FANDOM user
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