Well, here it is! The highly anticipated Ashley’s Holiday Special! Okay, maybe not “highly anticipated” but it’s Christmas, so let me delude myself, okay? Enjoy.

Here’s Santa

He sees you when you’re sleeping…

It was Christmas Eve, and my little brother and sister were alight with joy and excitement. My mother was humming Christmas carols to herself as she cooked the traditional gingerbread cookies. As for myself, I was drowning out all the Christmas cheer by blasting my Linkin Park CD as loud as it would go. Perhaps, if it were lower, I would have heard my mother’s screams to turn it down. But, then again, she would not have been yelling at me in the first place.

If you could not already tell; I hated the holiday season. It seemed like nothing but a hassle. Long lines, radios blasting the same old songs, TV stations playing the same old movies. I swear if I see “The Christmas Carol” one more time…

But, the hassle was not the real reason I hated Christmas. I hated Christmas because about six years ago, only a year after the twins were born, my mother found out my father was cheating on her. I was only ten at the time. My father had gone out to some office Christmas party, but my mother stayed home to take care of Marianna and Darren and me. Then, the phone rang, someone calling my mother to come and pick up my father because he was incapable of driving himself home. Don’t ask me why someone at the party could not have done it. I have a theory that whoever called my mother that night sort of pitied her and wanted her to know the truth about my father. She could not have waited until after the holiday season? Nosy bitch.

Okay, I got off topic for a second. So, my mother left me in charge for a few minutes. When she came back she was all tears and my father was following her, trying to apologize saying he did not mean it. Then, Marianna and Darren started wailing. It was not long after that that a divorce was filed, and my mother received full custody. I barely saw my father, not that it mattered. I did not want to see him. He and his co-worker smut can go somewhere and stay there.

Thus, the only good thing about this time of year was the two week vacation and the fact that I got presents. Other than that, it sucks. I mean, there’s a reason that the suicide rate is higher during the holidays then any other time of the year.

He knows when you’re awake…

“Hey, Scrooge,” my mother greeted me as I walked over the fridge to get a Pepsi.

“Bah humbug,” I muttered taking a long sip.

“Dinner’s almost ready. Set the table, Katie?” She asked.

I nodded mutely and went about the chore. Soon, the roast was ready and we were all sitting down to our holiday dinner. Marianna’s light brown curls bounced up and down as she fidgeted excitedly in her chair. Her brown eyes were eyeing the mashed potatoes and she seemed to be having trouble sitting still. I have always wondered whether she had ADD.

Darren on the other hand was sitting quietly, his deep blue eyes grazing over the feast my mother had prepared. His hands were folded neatly in his lap and his face showed a certain amount of contained excitement. He was only seven years old, and three minutes older than his twin, but he looked much older sitting there like that.

My mother sat at the head of the table smiling over at us. She was still rather young compared to other mothers. After all, she had me when she was only sixteen. That was probably the only reason her and my father had gotten married in the first place. She tucked stray brown hairs behind her ears before folding her hands. It was time for grace.

“Dear Lord,” her voice rang out. Marianna immediately stilled. “Thank you for everything you have given us. Thank you for this food, for our health. Please continue to bless and watch over us. Amen.” It was short and to the point which was good because I hated it when she went on and on.

Marianna and Darren dug into their food, like if they did not eat fast enough then it would all be gone. My mother ate neatly, while I chewed on a roll.

“Mommy, is Santa comin’ tonight?” Marianna asked.

“Of course, dear. You have been a good little girl, right Mari?” She responded.

Marianna nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Mommy!”

“What about me, Mommy?” Darren asked, shyly.

“You’ve been a very good little boy too. Don’t worry, Santa will bring you what you want.”

“Not Katie, though,” Marianna giggled. “Katie has been naughty! She’ll be gettin’ coal!”

I rolled my eyes. “Like I want anything from that fat bastard anyways.”

My mother gave me a shocked look to which I shrugged. She glared at me, her face sending the silent promise that we would talk later.

“We’ll leave milk and cookies out for Santa, and some carrots for his reindeer. Okay, Mari and Darren?” Both kids nodded. Marianna’s head look like it was about to pop off.

“I can’t wait!” Marianna exclaimed, her cheeks now taking on a rosy appearance. My mother only smiled in response. Marianna’s incessant chattering took up the rest of dinner, giving me a headache. Why wouldn’t she just shut up already?

He knows when you’ve been bad or good…

“Katie,” my mother’s voice said sternly, after dinner had been dismissed.

“Yes?” I smiled, feigning innocence.

“Don’t give me that look.” I stopped smiling. “Now, I don’t know why you said those things at dinner—”

“It was only ‘bastard.’”

She scowled at me. “At any rate, I don’t want you saying those types of words around your little brother and sister, especially Mari. She’s a parrot. So, watch it, okay?”

“Sure, I dunno what made me say it. Mari can be annoying sometimes. Well most of the time.”

My mom laughed. “You were the same way.”

“Really? Scary thought.”

She nodded, “Sometimes I wanted to put duct tape over your mouth to stop you from talking.”

“We should try that on Mari.”

“She’s just excited. It is Christmas Eve, Katie.”

“I know. And I’ll try to set a good example for Mari and Darren.” My mother smiled. “That’s good, dear. Now, I’m going to go and set everything up.”

I nodded and turned to go upstairs to my room.

So be good for goodness sake!

It was only nine o’clock and here I was, lying in bed already. Usually, I did not go to bed until three in the morning. But Mari had screamed at me saying that if I did not get to bed early, then Santa would not be coming. She seemed so serious with her face turning all red, her brown eyes blazing. Sheesh, getting all upset over some fat guy that wore a red suit and left only God knows what under your tree. Yeah, why wouldn’t I want to miss that?

Of course, I could not get to sleep. My sleep schedule was all messed up. Argh. I kept tossing and turning, trying to find some way to fall asleep. Eventually, though, I did fall asleep.

So…You better watch out…

I was a light sleeper and any sound woke me up. Thus, when I heard a thump coming from the roof, I was immediately woken. But I chalked it up to be nothing but a figment of my imagination. Letting out a sigh of aggravation, I fell back onto my bed. I glanced at the clock. 12:38 AM. I rolled my eyes and cleared my throat. I needed something to drink. Throwing back my covers, I stood and began my trek to the kitchen. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and stood still at the bottom of the stairs while I let out a yawn. That was when I heard someone mumbling to themselves.

Straining my ears to hear, I heard someone talking over in the family room, by the tree. I turned the corner and noticed a rather large figure sitting on the couch. One lamp was on and cast an eerie light over the lone figure. Getting closer, I noticed the soft, crimson material of the person’s suit, and the white lining of his jacket and pants. His long white hair flowed down his back in curls, although as I crawled more to the side, I noticed his long beard. His face was plump and rosy, and if not for the deep scowl on his face, he would have reminded me of a friendly grandfather. I noticed that he was eating the cookies my mother had left out, and making a loud swapping noise as well. He looked a lot like…

But, no, it couldn’t be! It was impossible. I would have laughed out loud at my brain for just suggesting it, but I did not want any attention drawn to me. Because Santa Claus was not real. Nope, my parents had told me a long time ago that it was them who bought the presents. It definitely was not this fat guy sitting on my couch eating cookies.

“Ungrateful brats,” I heard him mutter, wiping the crumbs out of his beard. “Every year, it’s the same. Same damn milk and cookies. Same damn dirty chimneys. Why can’t they leave me beer and peanuts for once? Or at least clean their fuckin’ chimneys!” My jaw dropped. “And the elves,” he let out an annoyed sigh, “with all their smiles and happiness. They’re not the ones stuffing themselves down chimneys all fuckin’ night!”

I let out a gasp and his head instantly snapped up. Crap. This guy had some major anger issues and I did not want him anywhere near me. Where was jolly old St. Nick? With a stomach that shook like a bowl full of jelly? This guy was just pissed off.

“Who’s there?” He growled. I bit my lip to stop myself from saying anything else. Maybe if I just stayed still long enough, he would ignore me and go back to ranting. No such luck.

He stalked around suspiciously for a few minutes before finally noticing me. “Why, hello there, Katie,” He smiled, and in my opinion, menacingly.

“Hi, Santa.” I said uneasily. He grabbed my wrist harshly and pulled me over to the couch.

“You know, it’s not nice sneaking up on Santa like that.” He commented. I nodded. Up close, I could get a better look at him. His eyes were dark and looked slightly blood shot. He suddenly pulled out a long piece of parchment from inside of his jacket. Scanning it quickly, he folded it back up, then looked at me. “You have been a very bad girl, Katie.”

I gulped.

You better not cry…

“You know, Santa has been watching you.” He said, casually. Can we say, stalker? “And, Santa does not like what he has seen.” My heart beat sped up when I felt his grip on my wrist tighten.

“Why do you refer to yourself in the third person?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Don’t interrupt; it’s rude.” He waited for my nod before he continued. “As Santa was saying, I don’t think coal is a good enough punishment for you.”

“It’s not?”

He shook his head. “You’ll only forgot about the coal and shrug it off. Santa knows how you teenagers are. You could care less.” He paused for a second and scratched his head. “Where does your mother keep the liquor?”

“I-I don’t know.” I cursed my voice for shaking slightly.

He threw me to the ground and released my wrist. Nursing my wrist, I looked up to him. The light now giving him a threatening look. “Liar! You know exactly where it is, don’t you? You cannot lie to Santa.”

“Obviously, you haven’t been watching me too closely, or you would have noticed that my mother doesn’t keep liquor in the house.” I should have just kept my mouth shut.

He glared. “Insolent girl.” He paced up and down the room, stroking his beard. He reminded me of some villain deciding what to do when he had the hero finally in his grasp. “You know,” he spoke after some time, “It’s brats like you that make Santa not want to do his job. Actually, it’s all the brats in this world. And tell your mother to clean the fuckin’ chimney once in awhile.” He stopped and took a sip of the milk.

When he finally turned his gaze back to me, his eyes were gleaming. He was the predator stalking his prey.

“Santa, are you okay?” I asked, dully.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t Santa be okay?” He seemed to me like he was teetering over the edge, between sanity and losing his mind.

“At least, Santa will be. Just need to do one thing.” He turned his back on me and when he turned back around he was holding my mother’s steak knife. He was gripping the handle so hard, his knuckles were turning white. His brows were set in a deep scowl, his lips a thin line. I take that back; he was not teetering over the edge. The guy had lost all his marbles some time ago!

I backed away from him and quickly stood up. I noticed he was not that much taller than me, but his size was definitely intimidating. “What are you doing?”

He snarled and there was a look of pure madness upon his face. “Just punishing the naughty.”

You better not pout…

“Err, Santa, you need some help.” Okay, this could not be happening. I was probably just dreaming. There was no way Santa was about to kill me. No possible way, right?

He shook his head. “No, sweetheart, I just need to punish the naughty. You shouldn’t curse in front of your little brother and sister. Or talk back to your mother, or cheat on those tests, or make fun of those kids at school.”

“I know, Santa, but don’t you think this is a little extreme? You’re just stressing about work.” I tried to sound firm, but my voice was barely any louder then a whisper.

He made a ‘tsking’ noise and shook his head disappointedly. “My dear, it is not extreme. Although that is what little miss Natalie Woodsen said last year. Alas, she deserved it as well.”

My jaw dropped. I remembered reading about that in the paper. Some girl around my age had been killed last year, at Christmas. “You crazy, fat bastard!”

“Now, Katie, is that any way to speak to Santa?” He took slow, sure steps toward me. “And what’s this? Tears? What a shame.”

I wiped my face and realized that I had indeed been crying. “You’re nuts.” Why wasn’t I running? Why couldn’t I move? I felt rooted to the ground.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Perhaps.” I closed my eyes for a second in desperation. I really needed to wake up now. But when I opened my eyes they met the dark ones of his. They possessed a wild look to them, as if he was something not quite human, but rather an animal. An animal who was backed into a corner with no way out. I swallowed hard, not being able to tear my eyes away from his. They were hypnotizing.

I’m telling you why…

A blood curdling scream suddenly pierced through the still air. It was filled with such terror that I felt myself shudder just hearing it. But the voice was familiar and I realized that it was my own scream.

I looked back up into his dark and wild eyes to find them filling with alarm. The knife dropped to the ground with a clatter. His eyes shifted from side to side, giving him the resemblance of a startled animal now. With new found strength, most likely from adrenaline, I pushed him back and ran up the stairs with great speed. Crying hysterically, I shook my mother awake.

“Katie? What are you doing?” She asked groggily.

“There’s someone downstairs! You gotta look! Mommy!” I shouted at her. She turned on the light and took one look at face before her face turned into one of worry.

“What happened?” She asked soothingly, taking me into her arms.

“Santa Claus tried to kill me!” I cried after a few minutes.

My mother chuckled. “Is that all? It was probably just a dream. Go back to bed, dear.”

I shook my head vehemently. “No! He really was. He had a knife and everything.”

“Shh, would you feel better if we went down and looked?” I nodded mutely. “Okay, let’s go.” She took my hand gently and started leading me downstairs.

“Wait!” I said, and she looked at me funny. I went into my room and came out with a baseball bat. My mother gave me an exasperated look, but said nothing at noticing my fearful look.

When, we went downstairs, no one was there and no lights were on until my mother turned them on. “See, Katie? No one was here.”

“What about the cookies and the milk?” I pointed at them.

“I drink the milk and eat the cookies so Mari and Darren think Santa has been here. Honestly, Katie, Santa did not try to kill you. You must have been having a nightmare or something.”

My grip on the bat loosened as I looked around in disbelief. Nothing was out of order. I must have been dreaming. I let out a sigh of relief. Just a dream.

“Sorry for waking you, Mom.” I said already turning to go back upstairs.

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

I noticed the mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m not going to live this down, am I?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

Marianna and Darren were both opening gifts; more like shredding the wrapping paper. I took pictures while my mother was preparing tonight’s dinner, a delicious turkey. My grandparents were coming over tonight.

“Honey?” My mother poked her head into the living room.

“Yeah?” I said, my attention still on Marianna and Darren.

“Have you seen my steak knife? I can’t find it anywhere.”

I turned my head to her and tilted it to one side. “Nope, isn’t it on the kitchen counter?”

“I thought it was. Oh well,” She said before going back into the kitchen.

I nodded, a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. I fiddled uneasily with the end of my shirt. It was just a dream, just a dream, I repeated over and over as my mantra.

“Katie?” Darren’s quiet voice said, while he tapped my shoulder. I jumped slightly at being startled as I turned around.

“Yeah?”

He held up my mother’s steak knife. The metal piece glistened as the sunlight hit it at the right angle.

“W-where did y-you find that?” I stuttered.

He pointed over to the couch. I followed his gaze and noticed that that was where I was standing in my ‘nightmare’ right before Santa had tried to stab me. My eyes darted between the couch, the plate of cookie crumbs, the knife and Darren’s questioning blue eyes.

“What’s wrong?” He wondered.

I shook my head and took the knife from him. As if in a daze, I gave my mother the knife, ignoring her questions as to where I found it. I continued while I sat on the couch, just staring into space.

“Katie!” Marianna tugged at my shirt.

I snapped out of my daze and looked down on her. “What?”

“I found this under the tree. It’s for you.” Marianna handed me a wrapped gift, with Santa Claus as the design. His grinning face seemed to be mocking me. “Aren’t you gonna open it?” Marianna asked impatiently.

I glanced at her, before slowly unwrapping the box. When I finally opened the plain box, my eyes widened at what was inside.

“Haha!” Marianna started laughing. “I knew you were gonna get coal! Katie got coal! Katie got coal!” She started dancing around singing her new tune.

I continued staring at the coal, ignoring Marianna’s dancing, and Darren’s curious expression. It wasn’t a dream. He had really tried to kill me. But, that didn’t seem right. Santa kill someone? He was not even supposed to exist. And if he did, then he was supposed to be nice and jolly. Not murderous and crazy!

I squinted my eyes, noticing some paper at the bottom. Taking it out, in messy handwriting, it read: “See you next year, Katie. Happy New Year.” I let out a small shriek and dropped the box on the floor. Marianna immediately stopped dancing and looked at me inquiringly.

My face contorted into one of dread as I stared at the scattered black stones and the note on the carpet, forever burned in my memory. The holiday season suddenly took on a new light.

Santa Claus is coming to town.

Author’s Note: Hehe. You like? Well, I just gotta credit my inspiration. One: Katie aka WarriorHeart (so go check her stuff out!)’s Christmas card. Two: Foamy ()’s “Non-Holiday Special.” Three: Santa Claus and all those songs they make about him that make him come across as a stalker! Well, review, if you want. It’d be my Christmas present. ;)

And last but not least: MERRY CHRISTMAS! HAPPY HANUKKAH! HAPPY KWANZAA! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!