Christmas Evil E-Book

Mark L'Estrange

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

It's Christmas Eve: a time of wonder, magic, anticipation... and terror.

A father who will go to any lengths to feed his hungry children. An unsuspecting woman who inherits a house with a deadly secret. A murderous widow who shares a train carriage with Jack the Ripper. Two burglars who bite off more than they can chew during a late-night raid.

These and many more bedtime stories come hideously to life in Mark L'Estrange's nineteen tales of terror, each set on the most festive night of the year. Will anyone survive until Christmas morning?

This book contains adult content and is not recommended for readers under the age of 18.

Leseprobe

CHRISTMAS EVIL

A collection of short horror stories for Christmas

MARK L’ESTRANGE

Contents

It is Christmas Eve: a time of wonder, magic, anticipation… and terror!

Little Monsters

Dinner is served!

A Christmas Treat

Old Habits Die Hard

The Last train to London

The Cellar Door

The Priory Du Sang

Santa Claws is Coming to Town

Deadly Blessings

I’ll be waiting for you.

The Morning After

Jack’s Back

Krampus

You’re My Baby, Now!

Hider under the Bed.

The Trial of Goody Weekes

La spécialité de la Maison

Bad Moon.

Mugger

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About the Author

Copyright (C) 2019 Mark L'estrange

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Felicity Hall

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

For Gavin. You left a big hole in all our hearts.

Sleep well little man.

It is Christmas Eve: a time of wonder, magic, anticipation… and terror!

A father who will go to any lengths to feed his hungry children.

An unsuspecting woman who inherits a remote house with a deadly secret.

A murderous widow who shares a train carriage with Jack the Ripper.

Two burglars who bite off more than they can chew during a late-night raid.

A babysitter who discovers, too late, that a serial killer is loose in the village.

A murdered husband whose corpse rises from the plague pit to exact revenge.

A bedtime story which comes hideously to life.

A lone delivery driver who is about to make her last delivery, ever.

Little Monsters

Every Christmas Eve has its ritual.

In our house the rule was that my children could enjoy a midnight feast, if they were still awake at the witching hour. I checked my watch as I dried my hands on the bathroom towel; it was 11.55pm as I spied my two eldest creeping along the landing towards me.

I walked onto the landing and crouched down in front of them. Adam, my first born, was now eight; tall and slender, he was already forming the broad shoulders of a swimmer. Charlotte, his sister, had just turned six, and as the eldest woman of the house took her duties very seriously in looking after us all.

“What are you two doing up already?” I asked, tousling Adam’s hair and squeezing Charlotte’s nose between my fingers.

Charlotte pulled back, giggling. “We’re hungry daddy,” she said, barely above a whisper. My children had been taught from a young age to always keep their voices down when their daddy had a guest.

“Starving,” emphasised Adam, almost whining.

I laughed. “Starving, are you?” I poked them both playfully in the belly. “Like you’ve never been fed before, starving?”

They both looked at me, pleadingly.

Just then, I caught the sight of my youngest toddling along behind them. Melody was almost two and a wobbly-walker. She dodged past her siblings, using them to steady herself before trying to get past me. I grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her scrabbling little body up into my arms, standing as I did so.

A father cannot have a favourite! That is a standard I refuse to compromise. I love all my children the same, and yet there was something special about my little Melody. From the first time she opened her piercing blue eyes and looked up at me smiling, I felt the stabbing pain of anticipation all fathers must suffer the first time their daughter leaves the nest.

Naturally I knew that that day was many years away, but regardless of how irrational it seemed, I missed her already.

As I gazed into her sweet little cherubic face, with her shoulder-length jet black hair perfectly framing it, again I felt my heart sink. Though her mother had been a rare beauty, I still found it incredible that such a perfectly formed little angel could have been produced from my loins.

Realising that her efforts were futile, Melody stopped struggling in my arms. She gazed at me with her heart-breaking blue eyes, and began to rub her little tummy in a clock-wise motion with her hand. This I knew was her way of telling me that she was hungry.

“Yum daddy,” she whispered, in her baby tone.

I kissed her gently on her nose and then gave her to her brother to hold. “Ok,” I said, “just let daddy see to his guest, then you can all eat.”

Their eyes lit up at my words. I laughed to myself; anyone would think that I starved them. I put a finger to my lips to remind them to be quiet, then crept down the stairs, taking care to avoid the fourth one from the bottom - as I had on the way up - due to the loud creak it made whenever anyone put any weight on it.

Behind me I heard the children settle on the top step to await my instruction. I glanced back at them and winked. Adam had his baby sister perched on the end of his knee, lovingly bouncing her up and down to keep her amused. Charlotte sat beside him, and all three were watching me closely.

I walked into the sitting room, and there snuggled up on the hearth rug in front of the fire was the woman I had picked up from the club earlier that evening. She stirred and moaned softly, pulling the duvet further up over her naked body.

While shifting the duvet, she uncovered her feet. Her perfectly pedicured toes peeked from underneath momentarily, before she unconsciously snatched them back into the warmth.

I stood over the fireplace and gazed down at her. She was indeed beautiful. Her long blond hair, which earlier that evening looked as if she had just stepped out of a commercial, now cascaded over her high cheekbones in that tousled post-coital fashion so common after the event. But even so, it did not detract from her gorgeous features - what a stunner.

After a moment, I carefully I pulled back the duvet to uncover her naked form. Her perfect, unblemished skin shone radiantly in the glow of the firelight. There was a murmur of protest at the loss of heat from her cocoon before she curled herself into the foetal position.

I knelt down beside her and gently began stroking her hair.

With a soft moan she turned her body towards me and through sleepy eyes smiled, warmly. Her lips parted slightly and she ran her tongue softly over them, moistening them just enough to cause a light sheen.

She reached up and tried to pull me towards her. It was so hard to resist.

With practised skill I retrieved the carving knife from under the settee and with one swift movement I opened her throat!

Her eyes widened, her expression a mixture of terror and confusion.

She tried to speak, her mouth moving up and down without any words coming out. She tried to lift herself up from the floor, one hand covering the opening in her neck through which her blood was pumping, and the other she used to try and push away at the ground to rise, but it was futile.

The arterial spray of her life’s blood peppered the stonework surrounding the fireplace, before eventually slowing down to a sporadic jet shooting from her gaping wound. She slumped back down as the last of her strength ebbed away, then lay motionless.

I watched her a moment longer, then pulled away the duvet completely. Surveying it I was pleased to note that it had almost escaped blood-free. The same could not be said for the hearth rug, which was now mainly red and not its original white. That would have to go!

With the tip of my knife I slit her open from throat to groin, revealing her organs which were now bathed in what was left of her life’s blood.

I walked to the door and turned to look up at my babies. Their bright eyes burned eagerly as they stared down at me, licking their lips in anticipation.

“Come on little monsters,” I smiled. “It’s ready!”

Dinner is served!

Simon’s anticipation started to rise when he saw the sign:

Hill House

1 mile.

With one hand on the wheel of his customised MG, he fumbled in the side door pocket for a fresh-breath spray. He squirted two shots into his mouth, wincing at the strong flavour. He wanted to be sure he was at his best, just in case Serena answered the door herself………with a Christmas kiss!

He still couldn’t believe his luck that he had been invited to her Christmas party. She was without doubt the most stunningly beautiful woman he had ever met. And she fancied him. At least she must do, otherwise why invite him to her exclusive party having only met him for the first time earlier that evening?

To think, it was only due to a chance encounter by the lifts at work that evening that his work colleague Sarah had had the opportunity to ask him to walk her through the back alley near their office, to her cousin’s waiting car. Initially, he had been reluctant to comply. After all, it was Christmas Eve, and he was eager to meet his mates at the pub before the crowds arrived.

Simon had never fancied Sarah – she was far too plain for an up and coming executive like him. But she did have the ear of the Managing Director. Since she had been elevated to the dizzy heights of being his Personal Assistant, Simon had ensured that he paid her a little more attention. Though not too much! He didn’t want her thinking he fancied her. Even so, he figured it couldn’t hurt to play the chivalrous hero, so long as it didn’t become a regular occurrence.

Simon feigned enthusiasm by making small talk with her whilst waiting for her cousin Serena to arrive. And when she finally did, Simon was nearly knocked off his feet-in more ways than one. The red Mini screeched around the kerb so fast that Simon had to leap out of the way before being struck. He was ready to give the driver a piece of his mind……until Serena climbed out from behind the wheel!

She was short, Simon estimated barely five feet, but she was earth-shatteringly gorgeous. Her long black hair was swept back behind her shoulders. Her complexion, pale as milk, contrasted perfectly with her ruby lips. Her eyes held a deep blue hue, and looked like sapphires dropped in the snow. Their gaze pierced his very soul. Beneath her waist-high leather jacket Simon could just make out a low-cut crimson blouse, revealing just enough to be sexy without being cheap. Beneath the blouse she wore skin tight figure-hugging jeans, which were tucked into knee-high black boots.

Simon’s gaze followed Serena’s figure up and down. He heard himself gasp before he could stop it. When his eyes met her face again, she was smiling. Simon felt his face flush; he hated it when that happened, but it was too late. He hoped that in the dim light from the street lamp, Serena wouldn’t notice.

Sarah, standing right next to him, did notice.

“Simon, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Serena.”

Before Simon could regain his composure, Serena moved forward with her hand outstretched.

“Lovely to meet you Simon, I’m so sorry about that.” She indicated to her car over her shoulder. “One of these days I’m going to get into trouble for my driving.”

Simon took her pale, soft hand in his. It was cold to the touch in the chilly night air. He glanced at the perfectly manicured red fingernails as he brought her hand towards his bent-over face.

“Enchanted,” he said, trying his best to sound sophisticated. He allowed his lips to linger for a moment against Serena’s perfect skin.

“Oh,” breathed Serena, glancing at her cousin. “You didn’t tell me you knew any real gentlemen.”

“Simon and I work together,” replied Sarah. “He’s destined for greatness, or so I’m led to believe.”

Serena gave Simon an approving glance. “Well, he certainly looks the part.” She turned back to her cousin. “Why haven’t you invited him to my Christmas party, you know I need an escort?”

Serena turned back to face Simon. Moving closer she casually brushed some imaginary hairs off his shoulder. Simon’s eyes followed her hand “And real gentlemen are so hard to find.”

When Simon looked back, Serena was so close to him that he could almost feel their noses touching. He had to fight an irresistible urge to kiss her. She was so close that the movement would barely register, and the thought of what lay between those ruby red lips was driving him insane.

But with Sarah standing so close, he felt he had to resist.

His mind went into overdrive.

Was this a set-up?

If he took the bait and moved in for a kiss, would Serena push him away?

He imagined the two girls standing there, laughing at him for thinking, even for a second, that a rare beauty like Serena would even contemplate allowing a grubby urchin like him to kiss those luscious, pouting, ruby pathways to paradise.

Had Sarah cooked this little charade up with her cousin as revenge for some past slight Simon had made against her?

His mind raced, but he could not fathom such an insult. But then, perhaps he hadn’t realised it at the time. After all, before Sarah had been made the MD’s PA he had barely given her the time of day when they passed in the corridor.

The moment seemed to Simon to last an agonising lifetime.

They were so close, but he willed himself not to move forward.

If Serena moved closer, that would be a different matter……But she didn’t.

After a few more seconds, Serena stepped back.

He wasn’t positive, but Simon felt that he caught a glimpse of disappointment on her face.

The moment had passed, forever.

Damn!….Damn!….Damn!

Serena smiled. “You will come, won’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Simon stuttered. “I’d love to. Just say when and where.”

He was aware of how pathetically keen he sounded, but at that moment he didn’t care. He took comfort in the fact that he would have plenty of time to regain his composure on the drive to Serena’s house.

Sarah removed a pen and paper from her handbag. Leaning on the roof of the car, she began scribbling.

She passed the paper to Simon.

“You can’t miss it, straight up the Old Forge Road out of town, then straight on for three miles. At the fork in the road turn left, then follow the signs for Hill House.”

Sarah opened the passenger door. As she slid inside the car, she said “I’ve put my mobile on the back, in case you get lost.”

Simon surveyed the details on the paper Sarah had handed him.

“I’ll look forward to it,” said Serena, giving Simon a final once-over. “Don’t be too long, the fun starts at around nine.” She tilted her head slightly to one side, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulder and falling across her neck. “And I’ll need my date to be with me when I make my grand entrance.”

Serena turned back to her car.

Simon sprang forward, refusing to miss a chance. He placed his hand over Serena’s on the door handle.

“Please, allow me.”

Serena brushed his cheek with her lips.

“A real gentleman,” she sighed. “You’ll be a perfect addition to my little gathering.”

As the care drove away Simon felt a stab in his chest, which remained with him still.

He raced home. He showered, changed into his best designer suit, and splashed on his most expensive cologne - the one he saved for when he felt confident that he was on to a sure thing. He checked himself out at least a half a dozen times in the mirror before finally leaving.

Sarah’s directions were pretty straightforward.

Simon checked the time on his car clock; it was 8:45pm.

It was early by his usual standards for attending parties, but Serena’s insistence that he be there to escort her “AS HER DATE” meant he could not afford to be one second late.

Though Simon had lived in town for most of his adult life, he had never ventured past the road he was on. He had always assumed that the turning led merely to more woodland. And such was the condition of the surface beneath his wheels, he felt sure that he had taken a wrong turning somewhere. He pledged to stop and check Sarah’s directions once he found a clearing.

The car jumped and jerked over the rough terrain, and without the assistance of any overhead lighting Simon could only gauge his progress in the beams from his headlights.

Then the overgrowth around him parted, and in the distance he could see the lights from the house.

Simon stopped and gazed through his windshield, the engine idling.

He surmised that it must be the right place, given the instructions.

Simon drove on, cautiously.

It was only when the property was in full view that he could appreciate the enormity of it, as well as the isolation of his surroundings.

The house looked more like a mansion-cum-castle, with definite shades of Stoker and Poe.

The front door was made of solid oak, and looked to Simon as if it would take more than one person to move it. The high stone walls stretched towards the heavens, and two large turrets, one on either side of the structure, protruded through the building’s slate roof.

With the wind whipping up behind him through the woods, and a crescent moon above, Simon felt an immediate urge to turn around and drive straight home.

But then he remembered why he was there. And what…or rather who… was waiting for him behind that imposing wooden arch. Not to mention the paradise he felt sure would soon be his.

The other cars on the gravel drive were all either Rollers, Jags or sports cars of various descriptions, with a few scattered Limos for good measure.

Simon began to feel a little out of his depth as he pulled in beside one of them. He began to wonder what Selena (or at least her parents, as this must be a family home), did for a living.

He felt a little awkward as he realised he had come empty-handed.

He glanced at his watch. It was too late to turn back now and drive into town.

Blast!

A well-chosen present may well have been all that was needed to tip the balance in his favour. But then he surmised that judging from Serena’s earlier demeanour, she had already decided that she would be his…Even if only for tonight.

Simon located the bell rope, and pulled it. Within a few seconds the mighty oak panel swung back, and Simon was confronted with the biggest man he had ever seen up close.

The imposing figure looked down at Simon for a moment, then stood to one side and ushered him in.

Before Simon could state why he was there, Sarah came into the passage.

“Thank you, Blane,” she said to the doorman. “I’ll take care of him.”

She motioned to Simon.

“Follow me.”

Simon followed Sarah into a great baronial hall. He was immediately awestruck by the majesty of the place. The floor, like the door, was solid oak, inlaid with what appeared to be a brick-wall design.

The roof formed a rectangular dome, which reminded Simon of the bottom of a boat, with wooden beams criss-crossing the ceiling.

The walls were draped in tapestries and huge oil paintings. They were mainly landscapes, with a few portraits of - Simon presumed - relatives of the family, along with the occasional family pet thrown in.

The entire room was tastefully - though sparsely in Simon’s opinion - decorated in green, red and gold, with an enormous tree dominating one corner.

“Wow,” was all Simon could find to say.

Sarah smiled. “It can take your breath away the first time you see it.”

Simon turned to her. “Who does all this belong to; don’t tell me your cousin?”

“Well,” replied Sarah, “The family mainly, but a lot of it will come to Serena eventually. She’s the last of her line, so to speak.”

Simon turned. “And what about you?”

Sarah let out a raucous laugh, which caused a few heads to turn in their direction.

She put her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. “Just a poor relation I’m afraid. My part of the family tree grows in a distant part of the forest.”

She grabbed Simon by the hand.

“Come on,” she coaxed, “Time you met some of the brood.”

Sarah led Simon around the room, stopping at various individuals or groups and introducing Simon as “Serena’s new beau”.

Everyone seemed delighted to meet him, and most gave him admiring glances - some to the extent that he began to feel a little awkward.

Simon noticed that everyone else at the party seemed to be dressed in period costumes. Though not overly flamboyant, there definitely seemed to be a 17th century theme underlying their dress.

He observed that many of the costumes must have been rented at short notice, as they were badly creased, and in some cases positively covered in dust and even mud.

Simon felt out of place in his suit, but then he noticed that Sarah hadn’t succumbed to the dress code either. That at least was some comfort.

At the far end of the room Simon noticed a red velvet drape, covering what appeared to be - by the shape of it - an easel with another large painting mounted on it. A thick gold rope was attached to the top of the drape, which then snaked around a pulley suspended from one of the beams above.

“What’s that?” asked Simon, pointing.

“Oh, that’s Serena’s surprise Christmas present for the family,” replied Sarah.

“Another painting?”

“Possibly, you never know with my cousin. Last year she commissioned a mahogany musical box with life-size carved hounds, chasing an ornamental fox. She’s very creative.”

Sarah touched his elbow “Come on, let’s get you a drink. You’ll need fortifying before assisting my cousin with her grand entrance.”

Sarah led him to the refreshment tables.

“I’ll be back in a minute, help yourself.”

Before him lay trays of cold meats, mini-mountains of glazed fruits, assorted bread rolls and sticks, bowls of oranges and grapes, cheeses of all varieties, and several large silver tureens, all of which contained what Simon presumed was punch.

Though by now he was very hungry, Simon noticed that none of the food seemed to have been touched yet. He wondered if perhaps it had only just been laid out, or maybe it was some family tradition not to eat anything until the hostess had made her entrance.

Simon decided that caution would be the better part of valour. Everyone seemed to have helped themselves to a drink, so he followed suit.

The punch was a deep red. It smelled to him of herbs, with a hint of cloves.

He half-filled one of the silver cups which had been placed around each tureen, and took a tentative sip.

Simon managed stop himself from gagging. The taste was not like anything he had previously experienced. It had a tinny, almost metallic flavour, and though he detected a hint of fruit and what he surmised might be wine, it wasn’t strong enough to mask the overall vileness of the liquid.

Simon shot a glance around to ensure no-one had noticed his reaction. The last thing he wanted was to give offence.

Everyone else in the room seemed to be enjoying their drinks. Simon mused that it must be a family delicacy which took time for the pallet to adapt to.

When Sarah re-appeared he casually put his cup down, and walked over to meet her.

“Come on,” she smiled. “Her ladyship awaits your pleasure.”

She took him by the arm, and led him to the bottom of the grand staircase in the passage.

The stairs swept up and curved to the left, blocking Simon’s view of what lay above.

Sarah left him at the bottom.

“Up you go,” she said, “Serena will meet you at the top.”

Simon kept a hand on the ornate banister as he climbed the staircase. As he neared the bend, he caught sight of Serena.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Serena stood beckoning him from the top of the stairs.

Though the upstairs landing was poorly lit by only a few sporadic wall lights, spaced too far apart in his opinion to be of any useful purpose, he could still make out that beneath her gold satin dressing gown, Serena was naked.

Awakened from his trance, Simon took the last few steps.

Serena grabbed his tie and drew him towards her.

They kissed, passionately.

Her lips were cold to the touch, but Simon soon realised the entire floor had a chill in the air

Without speaking, Serena led him to a room off the corridor. It was even darker inside than out on the landing, with the only illumination coming from the faint glow from the moon outside as it shafted through the heavy curtains. In the shadows Simon could see that the room was sparsely furnished, but his eyes lit up when he saw the huge four-poster bed, which dominated the middle of it.

Simon shivered. The room was freezing, but he didn’t care. He was still in disbelief concerning his present circumstances.

Serena released her gown, letting it flow down her back and onto the floor.

She stood there for a moment, her naked form bathed in the half-light.

Her sudden unveiling took Simon by surprise. He took a sharp intake of breath. Even in the poor light he could appreciate her perfect silhouette.

Serena looked up at him. “Do you like?”

Simon nodded. “Oh yes, I like!”

Serena circled a strand of her hair with her finger, all the time gazing straight at Simon.

Finally, she said. “Disrobe for me.”

Simon had never quite heard the request put that way before, but he understood the meaning.

Eagerly he began tearing at his ensemble, discarding each piece carelessly as if it were made of rags, instead of costing him more than a month’s salary.

Finally, he stood before her, bare.

Through the darkness, Simon could just about make out Serena’s piercing blue eyes. The look from them seemed approving.

She moved closer.

Simon closed his eyes in anticipation.

Suddenly he felt her cold hands on his skin, forcing him to squirm involuntarily.

“Is everything alright?” she whispered.

“A little chilly in here,” Simon replied, watching the air leave his mouth in a gentle white cloud of mist.

“Yes, sorry about that,” said Serena. “These old places are a nightmare to heat.”

She slid her hands down his now naked torso. “But I’m sure we can find some way to keep ourselves warm………later”

“Later?” Asked Simon, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice.

“Mmnnn, first you need to help me with my dress.” She motioned to a chair behind her, where Simon could just about make out some fabric draped over one of the arms.

“Also,” she continued. “I’ve managed to set aside a little something for you.”

Serena walked over to the bed and pointed to a shirt and a pair of trousers, which Simon hadn’t noticed before, lying on one side.

Bending down, Serena picked up a long pair of boots. “These will look very sexy on you,” she said, dangling them from their laces.

Simon frowned. “I didn’t realise it was a costume party.”

“Just a bit of fun…for me…please?”

Simon smiled. He hoped this would end up being worth the effort. He surmised it would, based on Serena’s intimacy with him so far.

“Any chance of some more light in here?” He asked, glancing around for anything which might resemble a switch.

Serena laughed.

“No, it’s far more fun this way…Helps to build the anticipation… And you know what they say about anticipation?”

They both changed.

Simon helped Serena by lacing up the straps at the back of her dress. It was a beautiful linen gown, with sequins and a lace finishing, in a deep blue which Simon thought would match her eyes perfectly. Her look was completed with a pair of dark blue velvet shoes, complete with buckles and bows.

Serena had tucked her hair up high on her head, revealing her long, white, slim neck.

Simon thought she looked breath-taking.

He had changed into a pair of brown leather trousers, fastened at the waist with crossover styled boot laces.

The shirt Serena had put out for him felt more like a blouse with its puffed-out sleeves and gaping neckline.

His long brown leather boots finished off his look.

Serena led him back out on to the dimly lit landing.

They began to descend the stairs side by side.

Serena linked her arm with his.

By the time they had reached the bend, Simon could see that the other revellers had formed a gauntlet on either side of the hallway.

Once they were in sight everyone began clapping, as if to herald their arrival.

It all seemed a little formal, not to say odd, to Simon. But he decided he had better go with the flow. He certainly did not want to do anything which might upset Serena, or ruin his chances for later.

They descended slowly, taking each step with a few seconds pause, allowing their audience to fully appreciate their majesty.

As they walked through the corridor of bodies, the clapping continued. Some hand patted Simon’s shoulders as he passed, as if in recognition of his new status as Selena’s chosen boyfriend.

A few of the ladies attempted slight curtseys as they passed. Some of the men bowed.

Serena seemed to take it all in her stride, as if their homage was expected.

Simon, for his part, tried his best not to laugh at their shenanigans.

Finally, they arrived at the hall again.

The last of the attendees continued the line, which stretched until about half way into the room.

As Simon and Serena continued down the lines, those whom they had already passed gathered behind them and followed them in, still clapping.

They made their way towards the velvet draped easel where Sarah stood, clapping them in.

Simon was bemused that she had not changed into any kind of period costume, and surmised that for whatever reason she must have refused to take part in this segment of Serena’s game.

As they reached her, Serena un-linked her arm from Simon and the two women hugged.

The applause from behind grew instantly louder, this time accompanied by cheers and whoops as well.

Simon joined in, so as not to appear, out of place.

After a moment, Serena turned to face her audience.

The noise died down.

Simon stood to one side so as not to block anyone’s view.

“My darling relatives,” Serena began. The acoustics made her voice appear so loud to Simon that it seemed to fill the entire room.

He took another step further back. He was suddenly afraid that it might look to the others as if he was trying to bask in Serena’s glow.

“Welcome to my annual Christmas affair.”

There were more cheers, and clapping.

When they died down, she continued. “As you know, at these little gatherings I like to give you all something special. Something which I know you will all appreciate.”

There was a light ripple of applause.

“For far too long now, you have all had to make do with scant offerings of waste from a society which shuns you, and reviles your very presence.”

Murmurs echoed throughout the small crowd.

“We are all victims of folklore and fable, re-animated by modern technology for the amusement of the delinquent masses.”

The cheers grew.

“When all we ask is to be allowed to live in peace, and to have our way of life respected.”

A loud cheer went up.

“We must be allowed to survive…”

Cheers!

“To live……”

Cheers!

“To love……”

Cheers!

“To breed……”

Cheers, and laughter!

“And……,” she turned to Simon. “…To feed.”

Cheers and applause!

Simon too began to cheer and clap. He felt he should; though he was not sure what Serena was alluding to, he didn’t want to appear dim.

He surmised that her family - for whatever reason - had been the past victims of some kind of slight. Perhaps from this town, or maybe from wherever they moved here from. Either way, he wanted to keep the atmosphere light and keep on the right side of Serena, so he could take full advantage of her mood later in the evening.

Serena walked over to him. She kissed him, and led him over to the draped support.

“And now,” she announced. “My latest, choicest, and by far, I think you’ll agree, tastiest companion……”

Ripple of polite laughter!

“……is going to assist me in unveiling your Christmas present.”

Serena motioned for Simon to grab hold of the end of the golden rope, which was suspended above the drape.

She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “It’s quite heavy, so when I give you the signal, give it a good tug until my surprise is revealed.”

Simon grasped the rope tightly with both hands.

“To you, my loving family,” she moved back, out of the way. “Merry Christmas.”

At Serena’s nod, Simon yanked the rope downwards.

Serena had not been joking about it being heavy, and it took him all his strength to finally lift the cover from its prize.

Simon heard the audience gasp as their surprise came into view. He himself could not see what had been revealed yet, as all his concentration was taken up in ensuring that the heavy rope did not slip from his grasp.

Once the drape was high enough he tied the rope off against a nearby pillar, and stood back to admire what everyone else could see.

Instead of a picture, as he had suspected the gift would be, the present was in fact a large mirror.

It was very ornate, with carved swirls of gold surrounding the frame, and what looked like different coloured jewels embedded in the gilt.

An odd sort of present, he thought, but then he supposed it was very fitting in the present surroundings, and from the approving noises being made by the rest of the family behind him, he surmised it was very much appreciated.

He glanced over at Serena, she was smiling at him, with a glint of what appeared to him to be mischief in her eyes.

He smiled and looked back at the mirror.

It was then that it struck him.

Something seemed odd.

At first, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but there was definitely something weird about this mirror.

He looked harder at his reflection.

Then it dawned on him…His was the only reflection he could see!

Simon turned.

Behind him everyone had moved closer as if to inspect their gift, and yet they appeared to be looking more at him than at the mirror.

He turned back, quickly.

His was still the only reflection he could see.

He turned to Serena. She was still smiling at him, but now, through her ruby-red lips, Simon was sure he could see a flash of pointed white teeth.

Confused, he turned back to the group behind him.

Now they all too showed the same feature as Serena.

Each of them had pointy white incisors protruding from their upper jaws.

Some of them were smiling broadly, as if proud of their protuberances.

Others were licking their lips in anticipation.

All eyes were on Simon.

And in their gaze, he saw a look of longing!

Wanting!!

Hunger!!!

They started to move slowly towards Simon, the gap between them and him growing smaller by the second.

Simon panicked. Suddenly they seemed everywhere, surrounding him, cutting off all avenues of escape.

He had nowhere to go!

He turned to Serena. Now her mouth was fully open, and her bright white fangs were on full display.

From the corner of his eye, Sarah came into view.

She was dressed as before, not in formal costume like everyone else, including him.

She was smiling, but in her case there were no fangs on display.

Simon called out to her in desperation.

“Sarah!!!!” He screamed.

Sarah moved closer, as if unaware of the baying crowd before her.

She laughed. “Oh Simon, I am sorry, but you must understand - they have to feed to live.”

Simon moved his mouth up and down in disbelief, his mind racing, searching desperately for something to say which might mitigate his present situation….but no words would come out!

He turned again. His reflection was still the only one he could see in the mirror. Then, slowly, Sarah’s image came into view behind his.

He spun round. “But, you,” he managed. “What about you?”

Sarah laughed, “Oh I’m perfectly safe. I told you, I’m from a distant branch of the family. They need me to do the daytime stuff that they can’t attend to.”

She moved through the gathering mob and came up beside him.

“They need me, you see.” She gently stroked his face, and planted a light kiss on his cheek. “And besides…I’m family.” She ran her hand over his hair, patting it down slightly. “They need you too…,” she whispered, her mouth so close he could feel her breath in his ear. “…But for another reason.”

Simon felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder. He looked back, and saw the doorman who had let him in earlier in the evening.

Before Simon could respond the man’s other hand grabbed him by the waistband of his trousers, and he felt himself being hoisted through the air as he was carried over to the refreshment table.

Before the big man could reach his destination, some of the crowd rushed forward and swept the food from the table onto the floor. Plates crashed, glasses smashed, cold meat, bread rolls and fruit spread across the polished oak.

The doorman slammed Simon down so hard on the table that he felt the wind being knocked out of him upon impact.

Most of the spilled food was crushed underfoot by the rampaging mob, eager to reach their helpless prey.

Suddenly hands from everywhere were upon Simon’s body, holding him down.

He couldn’t move!

He could barely breathe!

Simon looked up at the hungry, yawning maws which salivated, drooling droplets of spittle on him from above.

Selena’s face suddenly came into view above him.

She smiled down, her fangs now gone, replaced by her perfect white teeth.

She looked so beautiful.

She winked at him, then moved away, out of his field of view.

As one, the ravenous crowd fell upon him!

A Christmas Treat

Janice let out a deep sigh of exhaustion as she turned onto the winding country road which would take her to her last drop-off of the day.

She blamed herself partly for still being on the road this late in the evening.

When she had set off that morning at 7 o’clock she had promised herself a short run before heading home for a hot bath and then heading onto her Aunty Vanessa’s annual Christmas Eve shindig.

Her aunt’s Christmas Eve dos were legendary in their family, and Janice could still remember being taken there as a child by her parents. All the kids would be allowed to stay up late and dance and eat until they were stuffed. Then one by one they would all start to collapse with fatigue before being carried away to Vanessa’s spare room, which she had converted into a huge dormitory with beds crushed up against each other so that all the kids could sleep together.

Now as one of the grown-ups Janice could look forward to a sumptuous spread with copious amounts of alcohol and dancing and partying into the early hours with all her cousins whom she had not seen for ages.

To her it was the perfect way to see in Christmas, and like most of her family she began looking forward to it at the beginning of the month.

But her plans for an early finish were never going to come to fruition, especially not on Christmas Eve.

Every delivery she made was welcomed with an offer of either a glass of sherry or a nice cup of tea. And though Janice had to refuse the alcohol due to being on the road, she found it increasingly harder to deny her old dears the pleasure of her company long enough for them to put the kettle on.

Even if she refused the numerous offers of mince pies and Christmas cake, she still felt too guilty to just knock back her tea and run. Even using the genuine excuse that she had several more deliveries to make and that people were depending on her, some of her customers were set to spend the festive season alone and she was probably the last person they would see during the festive season.

That by itself created a guilt-trip which Janice could not simply shrug off.

With each subsequent visit taking longer than the previous one, it did not take long for Janice to fall way behind her schedule.

Her one comfort now was that at least her final delivery was to a brother and sister, so they at least would have each other for company and she did not have to feel too bad for refusing their offer of hospitality which would doubtless be waiting for her when she arrived.

Janice shivered against the cold. The heater in the stupid van was on the blink again, and it was just her luck that it had decided to pack up completely half way through her rounds.

She took one hand of the wheel to pull her zipper up as high as it would go to try to keep what little body warmth she had left inside trapped.

During her normal working day she delivered meals-on-wheels for the council, and she had a regular clientele, but at least those schedules took into account the amount of time she would spend with each client.

It was not just a case of delivering the food; you had to go in and heat it up for them and make sure that they were capable of feeding themselves as well as at least offering to make them a brew.

Sometimes she even waited long enough to do the washing up.

But this job was not so accommodating.

Delivering Christmas food parcels could be a thankless task when they crammed as many orders onto your delivery as this supermarket did.

There was no physical way to get through them all before dark, no matter how early you set off.

At least not for her!

But then she had to admit that part of the problem was her personality, and the fact that she felt that she was being rude if she just dumped the parcels and ran.

Some of the other drivers used to laugh at her and call her ‘slow coach’ because of how long her round would take.

It was alright for them. Most of them were not the most affable of people so the customers were more reluctant to invite them in in the first place.

Janice had even come to believe that some of them acted that way on purpose so that they could guarantee an early finish.

Janice turned off the road, leaving the comfort of the street lights behind her.

Her last call was a little off the beaten track and the road that led down to the old farm was littered with branches and pot holes which made the going even more precarious.

Janice slowed down as the van lurched and skidded on the dirt track. They had had a huge downpour earlier in the afternoon and the last thing she needed was for her to be stranded if her tyres got stuck in deep mud.

Or worse still, if she blew a tyre on one of the deeper potholes. She knew that the van’s spare was probably not even legal to use, and besides she could definitely do without having to wrestle with the jack out here in the dark and the freezing cold.

Better to be safe rather than sorry.

Janice dropped a gear as the path dipped. She kept the brake covered with her wellington just in case, but in truth she hoped she would not have to use it for fear of losing her grip on the path altogether.

Finally she found her way into the clearing, and she could just see the outline of the farmhouse up ahead.

Thelma Sykes and her brother Wilfred had lived out here for as long as she could remember.

Janice had known them since she was a child. Her parents had often brought her and her brother out to their farm to buy fruit and vegetables as well as logs for their open fire.

Janice had always found the siblings a little strange!

It was never anything specific that she could put her finger on, but more a combination of smaller oddities which combined made her feel uncomfortable around them.

For a start, she remembered them always wearing woollen mittens, even in the middle of summer. And when they spoke they had a matching speech impediment which meant that at the end of each sentence their final word - regardless of what it was - ended with a strange hissing sibilant.

And then there was the way that they walked. Both of them appeared to Janice as if they would have been happier crawling around on all fours rather than having to stand up. And that was not just because they each had a rather pronounced stoop; it was far more than that. It was almost as if they were constantly trying to not fall over, as if something was pushing them down from behind.

Unfortunately for both of them, whenever they leaned forward into their stoop both their backs hunched dramatically, and it always appeared to Janice as if they were carrying a sack of something under their clothing.

On the one occasion Janice had mentioned this to her parents she had been severely scolded for making fun of those less fortunate, so she learned to just accept them for the way they were.

That said, she was glad when she was old enough not to have to go shopping each week with her parents. But then when she grew older and learned how to drive, on occasion they would ask her to drive out to the old farm and collect their orders for them.

Janice often had to bite her tongue and just put up with the fact that the old couple freaked her out.

Janice pulled up in front of the main door.

The lights inside looked as if they were emanating from lanterns or candles rather than electric bulbs, and she wondered if perhaps they were in the middle of a power cut.

She sincerely hoped not, because seeing the old couple without electricity would just feed her inner guilt and ruin any chance she had of enjoying her Christmas.

Janice jumped down from the van and trudged around to the back.

Her boots sank in the wet mud so that she had to make an effort to pull each foot free as she walked.

She opened the back of the van and pulled forward the first crate.

Unlike the rest of her deliveries that day which had been mostly made up of Christmas goodies, this one contained nothing but raw meat. The second crate that completed the delivery was just the same.

Janice knew that the old couple kept a small amount of livestock, so she did find it odd that they would order so much meat, especially as it was just the two of them, and neither of them looked as if they had particularly large appetites.

Then it struck her that perhaps they were having a houseful over for the festive season, and that thought gave her cause to smile.

At least then they would not be on their own.

Janice heaved out the first crate and made her way towards the farmhouse door.

Before she reached it, the door flew open and Wilfred was there to greet her with a cheery smile.

“Hello, young Janice, we wondered if you might be making our delivery this year,” he beamed. “All by yourself?”

“I’m afraid so,” Janice puffed, between breaths.

“Let me help you with that,” Wilf smiled as he reached out his arms to take the crate.

Janice noticed the thick woollen mittens, as usual, and smiled to herself.

“Thanks,” she said cheerily, “I’ll just go back and fetch the other one.”

Leaving Wilf to carry his crate inside, Janice returned to the van and unloaded the last of her festive deliveries.

The drive home would only take about half an hour, and she could already feel the welcoming cheer of her hot bath as it soothed and relieved her tired muscles.

Holding the crate in both hands, Janice elbowed the van doors closed.

She turned to make her way into the farmhouse.

In the distance she could see the moon starting to appear in the eastern sky.

The one thing she always loved about being out in the open on a night like this was the vastness of the open sky, and the myriad of stars that appeared so clear and bright, especially on a cold, crisp night such as this.

Sighing contentedly, Janice made her way in through the front door.

Wilf had placed his crate on the kitchen table, so Janice did likewise with hers.

Through the open-plan kitchen and living area, Thelma Sykes was carefully placing some logs on the hearth when Janice entered.

The old lady took hold of one of the fire irons and prodded at the grate, causing the flames to catch the new logs she had just added to the fire. The yellow and blue flames spread across the length of the fireplace, and Janice could feel the welcoming warmth from it from the other side of the room.

“Look who’s here!” Wilf announced.

Thelma turned away from the fire and she beamed when she saw Janice.

“Well hello young Janice,” called the old lady as she walked across the room towards the young girl. “Wilf and I were wondering if you might be making our delivery tonight.” She glanced over at her brother and nodded as if she was very pleased with herself for guessing correctly.

Janice noticed the old lady’s mittens, and tried to conceal her smile.

Thelma walked past Janice, patting her on the arm as she passed. “Oh, I see you’ve brought our Christmas treat, how lovely, we do like something special at this time of year, don’t we Wilf?”

The old man smiled and nodded his head in agreement.

“Are you both having guests over for Christmas?” Janice asked, politely, not wishing to indicate that if they were not, then she had just delivered an awful lot of raw meat for two elderly spinsters.

The old couple laughed to each other.

“No nothing like that,” Thelma grinned, broadly. “Like I say, we just like a special treat at Christmas.”

Janice nodded, not wishing to sound rude by making any further enquiries.

The fire crackled and spat as the flames licked hungrily along the logs.

Janice could feel herself starting to grow tired in the cosy surroundings, and she could imagine herself slumping down in one of the old armchairs in front of the fire and drifting off to sleep.

She shook the thought from her mind.

She still had a drive home, then a party to attend.

Sleep would be a long way away.

Janice rubbed her hands together. “Well, let me wish you both a very merry Christmas and a Happy New Year if I don’t see you before then.”

The elderly couple looked anxiously at each other.

“Won’t you stay for a cup of tea before you go?” Thelma asked, sounding more desperate than she ought, in Janice’s opinion.

“Oh, that’s very kind,” she replied, “but I have to be going, we’re all gathering round at my aunts for our annual shindig.”

Janice moved towards the door but Wilf quickly blocked her exit.

She looked up at him, and he smiled at her, reassuringly.

“I wonder,” the old man said, his voice starting to slur into that all too familiar strange lisp they both seemed to share. “We hate to impose, but my back’s been playing up something awful lately, would you mind helping me down to the cellar with this meat so that we can store it in the freezer before it starts to defrost?”

Janice looked back at Thelma.

The old lady was standing a little too close for comfort as far as Janice was concerned, even though she had not noticed the old woman closing in on her.

Janice smiled, pleasantly, although she was starting to feel like a rabbit caught in headlights.

“No problem,” she managed, trying desperately not to show how uncomfortable she was feeling with the two of them at such close quarters.

Wilf clapped her on the shoulders, making Janice jump. “That’s lovely,” he beamed, “we were so glad it was you making our delivery, we knew that you wouldn’t let us down.”

The old couple edged aside to allow Janice access to the crates.

She walked over to the table to grab hold of the first one.

She felt a sudden, uncontrollable urge to make a break for the door and to get to her van before the old couple could figure out what was going on.

But she chided herself for being so ridiculous.

What plausible reason could she give afterwards for such behaviour?

Leaving two elderly neighbours to struggle down their cellar stairs with two huge pallets of raw meat.

What if one of the tripped and fell down the stairs as a result?

How would she feel then?

Being so old and frail they would doubtless break something, or worse!

Janice picked up the crate and smiled. “Which way to the cellar?” She asked cheerily.

Wilf led the way, followed by Janice and Thelma bringing up the rear. She was still too close for Janice’s liking, but she decided to ignore it and put it down to being the way some old people were.

They made their way across the living room and around the wooden staircase leading to the rooms above.

Behind the staircase was a large arched door, which Janice could barely make out in the poor lighting.

Wilf reached above the door and fumbled across the shelf until he located the key.

Once he managed to slot it into the lock he groaned and grumbled trying to get the key to turn.

Janice stood there, weighed down by her burden, wishing that they had thought to open the door before she picked up the hefty crate.

She was about to suggest that Wilf might find the task easier if he removed his mittens, but before she had a chance to speak, Thelma squeezed past her and nudged her brother out of the way.

The old woman wrestled with the key while Wilf offered some, less than welcome, suggestions.

“Wiggled it from side to side that sometimes works….Push it all the way in before you try and turn it….Take it out and blow some hot air on it then try it again….”

Thelma, for her part, managed to hold her tongue, though her frustration at her brother’s suggestions was obvious to Janice.

Finally, with a huge strain, Thelma managed to snap the lock open.

The old woman stepped back in triumph and beamed at Janice.

She took several deep breaths before stating, “We don’t go down here that often, that’s why this stupid lock sticks.”

Janice noticed the lisp starting to creep into the old woman’s speech, just like her brother’s.

“You should oil it while it’s open,” Janice suggested, helpfully. “It might help to lubricate the barrel for next time.”

“Good idea,” offered Wilf, “I might just do that.” He leaned into the darkness behind the door and flicked a switch.

Janice could tell that the cellar below was now illuminated, but unfortunately the light did not penetrate the darkness of the staircase leading down.

“Come on,” said Wilf, jovially, “I’ll lead the way; these stairs can be a little rickety.”

Without waiting for a response, the old man started down the stairs.

Janice followed as best she could, trying to peer over the edge of the crate to see where she was placing her feet.

The soles of her wellingtons were still quite slippery with mud from outside. Even though she had made a point of wiping her feet on the mat on her way in, she could feel them struggling to gain purchase on the old wooden staircase.

Finally, she made it to the bottom.

The cellar seemed bare save for a large freezer unit in one corner.

Wilf made his way over to the freezer and lifted the lid.

When Janice arrived, he unloaded the meat from the crate and placed it haphazardly inside the unit.

Janice had not noticed if there was anything inside the freezer before Wilf placed the meat inside, but when he was finished she saw that the chest was not even half full.

“Plenty of room for the next load,” she said, jokingly.

Wilf just smiled.

In the dim glow cast by the lone bulb in the cellar Janice thought for a moment that Wilf’s eyes were no longer human, but great bulging red orbs.

Janice took a quick step back and almost tripped over her own feet. She just managed to catch herself before losing her balance.

When she looked back up, Wilf’s eyes appeared normal again.

Janice decided that she was probably just tired from being on the road all day.

She gave Wilf a nervous laugh. “Oops, that was a close call,” she trilled.

Wilf’s smile seemed almost plastered to his face.

Janice could not be sure in the poor light but it almost appeared as if Wilf was leering at her, hungrily. For a second she could even swear that she saw him lick his lips, as if in anticipation of a tender morsel about to come his way.

Without wishing to appear as if she were studying him too closely, Janice turned on her heel and made her way back to the staircase.

Thelma was waiting patiently at the top of the stairs for her.

“Are you ok to take down the second lot too, hon?” She asked, eagerly.

“Yes, no problem,” Janice replied, nervously.

Thelma left her to make her way back to the kitchen to retrieve the second crate.

Once again Janice had to fight the impulse to make a break for it.

With Wilf down in the cellar and Thelma at the other end of the floor there would be no way that they would be able to catch her if she decided to run.

But she knew that she could not, even if all her instincts told her to.

She was just letting her imagination run riot.

There was nothing to fear from a couple of old codgers like Thelma and Wilf for goodness sake!

Janice left her empty crate near the door and picked up the full one from the table.