Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Christmas Wrath

This was written for the Bad Santa Blog Hop 2013

Henry sat in the dark, searching the room with his mind. He was alone, except for a spider building her web in the corner. She’d been diligently working on it for the last hour. He reached into her with just a thought and felt the blood circulating through her tiny body. He felt her pulse race at the intrusion. Fear coursed through her. He pictured her heart contracting, squeezing tightly until the blood circulating was only a trickle. Then he let go and the blood rushed the tiny arteries. Moments later her brain exploded.

The creature’s death didn’t satisfy him. His anger grew and he reached through the doors, searching out the one who had imprisoned him.

. The children, orphans, like Henry, but without his special gifts, were sitting around the Christmas tree. When Mummy, as the woman who ran the place insisted on them calling her, had chosen Henry as her whipping boy, they hadn’t shed a tear. Henry understood, they were relieved it wasn’t them being stripped bare, his hands tied as she made the others hang him from the ceiling, slipping the rope that bound him over a hook. It was understandable, he would have gladly traded places with any of them… still, now that he had discovered his new power, they would have to pay.

He heard their thoughts… Santa was coming! Henry knew it wasn’t true. Mummy only told them that so she could yank the rug out from under their love starved little bodies when he didn’t show up. “You must have been bad boys,” she would tell them and then send them to bed hungry. Their excitement gave him an idea though. He focused his anger on the front door. If they wanted Santa, they would have him.

Henry searched the streets and alleys and finally the graveyard and found who he was looking for. He reached deep into the ground and woke him. He’d been there for near a hundred years, rotting, his body nothing but the barest of flesh. Henry concentrated, moving the earth until the body rose, answering his call. It was the boogie monster that haunted every child’s dream, brought to life just for this night. The creature stepped forth, a worm eaten Santa suit still on his decomposing body.

It was dark, Christmas Eve, the few stragglers that were out buying last minute Christmas gifts didn’t notice the disheveled Santa heading for the orphanage. He climbed the steps to the front door, his legs barely holding him up, but Henry helped him stand. His ankle crumbled, but he continued on, ringing the doorbell. It was Little Ben that answered. His smile stretched across his face, until he saw the maggots crawling out of the moldy nose that barely clung to Santa. Then he screamed, and the other boys too, but their tears came too late for his forgiveness. He tried, but Santa was hungry, and Henry had lost control.


Word Count: 492