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Horror Christmas Holiday

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

The carriage trundled its way through the snow. The farmsteads outside blanketed and silenced. Small glimmers of light escaped from behind drawn curtains of the houses that passed. Dilapidated structures losing their battles against the weather, providing meager warmth to the creatures hidden within. Some nearing igloos, buried in the relentless depths of winter. The carriage passed through tall iron gates embedded in thick brick walls.

Out of the window Emile could see the mansion ahead, its towers and brick work ensconced in white. A monument, built on the backs of the surrounding peasants. The carriage lurched to a stop as the footman approached, opening the carriage door. Before Emile, the doors to the manor were drawn open. The sounds of mirth and the smells of pudding and turkey flowing forth. Approaching the threshold, Emile was blinded by the vibrant reds, greens, and purples that sparkled. The entry hall was decked in luscious garlands of pine and holly. The chandelier candles overflowed with colored wax.

A tall man approached, adorned in red and green silks encrusted with gold and silver. “Welcome my friend! Come in, come in! How have you been? I trust your journey was safe in this blizzardous weather.”

“Lord Edmond, thank you so much for the invitation. The journey was safe, albeit slow. I’ve been doing well myself. Stockpiling coals for the winter to stave off the chill. How have you been?” said Emile. 

“Glad to hear! Well enough! Plenty fun putting this Christmas party together. Had to have the workers put in some overtime, but I promised them leftovers from the feast if they’re good in their hard work.” The doors opened behind them once again, letting in a new host of guests glittering nearly as much as Lord Edmond. “Ahh if you’ll excuse me, I must make my rounds. It was a pleasure,” Lord Edmond said as he made his way to greet the newcomers.

Servants filtered through, carrying sparkling wine on trays for passers by to indulge in. Emile snatched one for himself to warm his skin from the cold journey, and began to explore the hall's passages to see what mysterious worlds lay throughout the expansive home.

In the first room Emile was greeted with water works. Countless fountains seamlessly flowed into one another. Sapphires hung from chandeliers, casting the room in a deep blue glow. The water shimmered in the candle light like glass work. The chamber was nearly serene, aside from the clash of toasts from the room beyond.

Moving through the next doorway, Emile was enclosed by wine racks that snaked along the walls of the room, reaching the ceiling. A vast collection of vintages ranging from freshly plucked to ages past. Barrels poured endless streams of purple wine into bacchants’ goblets. The imbibed tripped over each other laughing. Emile saw Lord Edmond engaged in a conversation with a woman ahead, catching her eye as he approached. “Ahh, Emile! Truly a pleasure to see you here. I was just asking Lord Edmond about Father Christmas who seems to have arrived” the woman said. 

“Lady Warrington, I’ve said I know nothing of the fellow, but if he comes bearing gifts, far be it from me to turn him away,” Lord Edmond responded with a cackle. 

“Have you gotten one of his gifts yet, Emile?” Lady Warrington asked. 

“I have not, but I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for him,” Emile said with a wink.

Leaving Lady Warrington and Lord Edmond to their cups, Emile made his way deeper into the party, whereupon he discovered a jungle. Exotic palms and climbing plants choked the space. Guests stood statuesque, enamored by the blooming foliage. The odor of vanilla, plum, and coffee flooded the senses. Emile tripped his way over vines that sprawled across the floor.

Escaping the paradise, Emile stumbled into a performance. Acrobats in orange leotards hung from trapezes descending from above. A man raised a torch to his lips and spat flames that engulfed the hoops the acrobats swung through, catching each other over the crowd. One after another they contorted their bodies for spectacle. The crowd cheered as they did, some jeering them to go further. Enraptured by the sights, Emile did not notice a man appear at his side. He was a large man wrapped in an old red cloak. Soot stained wool ran along the edges up to his face. His beard, as crisp as new fallen snow, gave the illusion of a smile beneath. His hat appeared as though it had been torn from his cloak yet was utterly seamless. His eyes locked onto Emile, piercing his soul with their square pupils. He held out a red box, its lid held on with green twine. “Thank you!” Emile said. Father Christmas winked and continued on his path, fishing out similar packages for the other guests from a tattered burlap sack draped across his back.

After the performance, Emile followed the other guests into the adjoining room. The ceiling was seemingly missing as snow covered every inch here. Yet the blizzard was still contained outside. Here ice sculptures of foreign creatures formed a zoo for revelers to bask in. Giraffe necks intertwined with one another. Elephant trunks formed hearts. Sharks dove down, chasing schools of tuna. The chill began to seep into Emile’s bones and so he moved on.

In the next room Emile could hear the raucous of cards scratch against the surface of tables. Rotund men draped in violet suits and cloaks pushed golden coins across tables. Luck ebbed and flowed as fortunes were won and lost. Loss seemed to have little effect as countless sums continued to fuel the merriment. As gold dwindled for some, gems and papers began to replace them.

The smell of spices led Emile into the feast hall. Roasted meats, suckling pigs, pies, and cakes adorned a table that filled the room. Black silken table cloth draped down, hiding any crumbs left by the revelers’ recklessness. Servants refilled trays the moment they depleted, scurrying in quickly and deftly to avoid making their presence obtrusive. An ebony grandfather clock stood in the corner, its ticking echoing through the massive hall. Lord Edmond joined, ripping off a turkey leg as the grease poured down his cloak. More lords and ladies poured in, gorging themselves on the decadence. Last to arrive was Father Christmas, handing out the last of his gifts.

The ebony clock in the corner struck midnight. “Merry Christmas!” Lord Edmond exclaimed, the crowd echoing in response. “Thank you all for coming today in these hard times. It is during the festive season that we should take time to celebrate what we have. The gracious Father Christmas has gifted us with his presence this night. Now, join me in the festivities of gift opening!” Lord Edmond said, beginning to unwrap his present.

The guests voraciously tore into their gifts. Twine and box lids flew through the room. Emile slowly pulled on the knot. The rope holding it shut fell to the floor as Emile peered inside. All that lay in the vessel was a singular birch branch. Guests throughout picked up their own branches, looking at the peculiar present with curiosity bordering on disdain. The branches began to grow. Slowly they enveloped hands and arms. Emile looked down to see his own limb engulfed in bark digging into his flesh. With every attempt to free himself the strength of the birch doubled. Blood poured down as the branch grew and lashed into his back.

Father Christmas removed his hat as horns grew to take their place. His eyes turned yellow and pierced the crowd. His forked tongue whipped out and licked his lips, savoring the impending suffering. Emile joined the cacophony of screams as the birch grew into him. One by one, Krampus snatched up the guests, throwing them in his sack. Emile watched as the beast pried him from the branches. Lacking blood and vigor Emile fell helplessly down, the fabric giving way to fiery brimstone.

The hall fell silent. Krampus looked about, his work complete. Another Christmas, another visit. He savored this season, for it was his time for retribution. Stealing the souls of all, the victims of their own damnation.

December 20, 2024 22:13

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