Shortz

Claus

The vanilla cinnamony woody fragrance is the strongest in the snug corner where the six-feet tall Christmas tree stands proudly adorned with bells, bulbs, candy canes, stars, and stockings.

Fluffy flakes of snow-white cotton scattered over the sturdy yet delicate looking branches beckon innocent smiles and wobbly steps closer, urging them to touch and pluck the soft squishy looking decorations as if they were the real thing.

Amidst the chatter of humans and the clatter of pots and pans, no one pays attention to the inconspicuous dark blue eyes of the toy dressed in white and red.

Come midnight, as the chatter ebbs away and the pots and pans return clean and sparkly to their homes, the toy that calls itself Claus comes into its own.

The woody welcoming fragrance dissipates and gives way to the stench of sulfur with a hint of iron, as Claus sheds its guise and takes its evil form. Dark like night, its robes sweep the wooden floors. With confident strides, it slithers to the wreath-clad door. Sealing it with its damned breath, Claus blocks all the routes of escape.

Turning, it inspects the living hall and glides to the kitchen island to devour the welcoming plate of cookies and now warm milk placed by the toddler on the marbled countertop.

Finishing the snack, it smirks, bearing its yellowing teeth in mirthlessly, and questions its hazy reflection on the now empty plate, "It's a good time to be around, is it not?"

No one answers. For the family of four are slumbering contentedly, with no knowledge of the creature that had invited itself into their home disguised as nothing more than a harmless decoration.

It closes its eyes and tilts its head up, "Oh, it is indeed enticing, the smell of gushing blood." Its boney fingers, pale and devoid of flesh, caress the smooth, rounded redwood newel.

Excitement, thirst, and anticipation of the feast at the top of the flight make him chuckle. Claus licks its lips; dark green slime drips on the first step, tainting it. Clause sneers, looking at his acidic spit, "Looks like I have already started making a mess behind."

Step after step, the distance between the living and the dead shortens till Claus stills finding itself outside a baby-pink door. "Sweet child, I will savor you last. After all, you are the most innocent of the lot."

Hearing a gasp, Claus turns around. Its dark blue orbs fall on a figure covering next to the futon at the adjacent blue door. "Shuuuu, little Maddy. Here, " The figure retrieves a slimy crooked candy cane from the front of his dark drapes, "if you stay quiet, I will let you have this special candy."

The boy of barely five looks into Claus's bright, naughty eyes, "Who are you?" He enquiries, reaching for the offered item.

Clause smiles, "Don't you recognize me, boy? I am the one responsible for all the gifts and merriment you see all around."

"Oh. Why are you here?" Little Maddy asks, lowering his defenses and wrapping his tiny fingers around the crooked cane.

"I am here for a hearty meal, of course. Just like the one you had." Claus replies, crouching next to the child. He looks into the naive hazel orbs.

The child's smile brightens, "Are you here for the cookies and milk?"

Claus quirks his brow.

"Are you here for goodies?" The boy urges.

"Yes, that sounds about right, boy. This house is filled with goodies." The vile creature replies, stroking the back of the child's head, his eyes growing impatient.

"Are you Santa Claus?" The boy beams, his ruby lips cure up; his eyes twinkle as he throws another unnecessary question the creature's way. But Claus has had enough. 'They always talk too much, don't they?' He contemplates and nods. His boney fingers transform into claws, and a moment later, Maddy's smile freezes.

While Claus stands and walks towards the brown door wherein sleep the adults with beating hearts, warm blood circulating through their veins, Maddy stays motionless, remnants of a smile past its due lingering on his now pale lips and blank, lifeless eyes reflecting Claus's retreating back.

The next morning, the sunlight peeks inside the dwelling through the nooks and crannies left unattended the night before. There is neither any sign of life, nor Claus, in the once lively home. All that is left are four restless souls trapped forever in the blood-stained halls, letting out blood curdling screams that no living soul can hear.

{Word count : 757}