Definitely Not Santa

James gritted his teeth as he lay in bed on Christmas Eve listening to the clock in the hall slowly ticking the seconds away. He could mostly ignore it during the day, except for when it would loudly chime on the hour. The melody it played every fifteen minutes was pretty annoying, but at least the steady march of the second hand blended into the background noise of a busy house. That was not the case at night though. At night it was as though the volume increased for every hour that passed and the sound of it drove him absolutely mad.

Beside him, his little brother snored softly, completely unaffected by the tortuous noise. His little brother, who could sleep through a tornado. James was jealous and angry at the same time and glared at him in the darkness. He knew it was totally unfair. He loved his younger sibling, even if he could be a pest at times, but the lack of sleep was making him unreasonably grumpy.

The muted light of a street lamp slanted in through the open curtains and illuminated the wall in front of the bed. A chest of drawers took up most of the space. His Grandmother’s collection of creepy porcelain cat figurines perched upon lacy doilies and stared back at him with their flat, painted on eyes.

Above this particular piece of furniture yet another clock hung. This one was more modern than the old grandfather in the hallway. It was just a plain, round circle with a white face and a second hand that silently stuttered forward. Easy to ignore, if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s movement was completely out of step with the thundering ticking of the one in the hallway.

James felt himself twitching. He sat up in the bed frowning and folded his arms angrily over his chest. He glanced over at the red glow of the digital clock on the bedside table. It was a little before two in the morning. So much for getting any sleep.

Why did his Grandmother have to have so many clocks anyway? Every Christmas James’ family stayed with her and every Christmas he had to deal with the ridiculous number of clocks ticking and tocking and chiming. There were at least two in every room. Some were fancy like the cuckoo clock in the kitchen and the massive curved wooden atrocity on the mantle in the living room, but most were just the normal run of the mill timepiece you could pick up at any local drug store.

Was it that important to see the time no matter what direction you were facing? None of them were synced up anyway. It only added to James’ irritation that they all read slightly different times!

The grandfather clock in the hallway was the worst by far, though. Not just because of all the noise it made, but because his Grandmother kept promising that one day it would be his, like that was some great day to look forward to. He’d be damned if he was going to have that thing in his house when he grew up. Even more concerning was the thought that it might end up in his parents house before that. Maybe he could convince them to put it out in the garage at the very least.

James felt his little brother shiver beside him. He briefly contemplated pulling the covers up higher over his small form, but then his inner sleep deprived grouch got the better of him and he just wrapped his arms tighter across his own chest. Why should his brother sleep peacefully when he couldn’t sleep at all?

Right as he was thinking those spiteful thoughts, an actual icy breeze swept through the room. James immediately glanced towards the window, but it was shut tight. Little patterns of frost started to creep across the glass panes and James’ surprised gasp appeared before him in a misty cloud. At the same time, the clock in the hallway just stopped.

James squinted in the dim light at the clock hanging on the bedroom wall. It’s hands were completely frozen in place at two am, the second hand unmoving on the twelve. He glanced down at the digital one on the nightstand and saw that it was now dark.

Had the power gone out? Light still filtered in through the window from the street lamp outside and he was pretty sure the wall clock ran on batteries. Did grandfather clocks have batteries? Grandma always made a big show of winding the clock with a little key, but he had never really paid attention to her explanation of how it worked beyond that.

James sat in the sudden and complete silence wondering if he should go wake up his parents to deal with the fact that the heat now seemed to be turned off, or if he should just count his blessings and try to get some sleep since the clock was no longer ticking incessantly. The decision was made for him, when he heard a shuffling noise coming from the living room and the distinct sound of wrapping paper being gently handled.

Could it really be? No way. He hadn’t believed in this sort of thing for years now...

Slowly James pushed the stiff sheets and heavy, quilted comforter off his legs. His toes curled as they hit the unexpectedly frigid floor. He crept down the hallway, shivering in the now chilly air. The sharp scent of pine stung his nostrils as he neared the living room. It made the tip of his nose itch. Grandma knew he had bad allergies, but she always insisted on getting a real tree anyway.

The only illumination in the room came from the small, white lights wound about the Christmas tree’s branches. They were set to blink on and off which caused the long shadows they cast to jerk and shift unnervingly in the darkness. Piles of carefully wrapped presents sat undisturbed beneath the fir’s thick branches.

On the coffee table a plate of sugar cookies and a glass of milk were laid out on a green and red woven placemat, a brass bell stitched to each corner. The food remained untouched. A half burned jar candle, extinguished much earlier in the night, still heavily perfumed the air with cloves and cinnamon.

James rested his hands on the back of the couch and peered beyond the table and into the darkness. The fireplace mantle was almost completely obscured by shadow, but it appeared that the large clock there had stopped moving as well. He could just make out the stockings hanging there with their strange angular and bulky shapes. The giant felt socks bulged with the many small, wrapped packages that had been shoved down into their toes. All except one.

James’ stocking hung at the beginning of the row, limp. Flat. Empty.

A fuzzy black stain was smeared onto the floor just in front of the fireplace. It trailed out from where the ashy remains of the logs rested, across the hearth, and onto the carpet. Littered across the large smudge of soot was a number of small, wrapped gifts. Their shiny paper twinkled in the Christmas tree’s flashing lights. It was the contents of his stocking.

James heard the crinkle of wrapping paper again, followed by a soft thud as another tiny package joined the others on the floor. He took a small step back, still clutching the back of the couch with one hand, and quickly looked up at the direction it had come from.

At the far corner of the mantle, where his stocking hung, he could just make out the most subtle shift in the shadows, a slightly darker black on black. The shadow was absolutely enormous, which was probably how he had overlooked it until now. Then it took a step forward.

An icy wind blew through the living room, rustling the branches on the tree and encircling James in the familiar scents of the holiday along with something musky and sour. It reminded him of visiting the petting zoo at the corn maze this past Halloween. Specifically the goat and sheep pens, which suddenly made a lot of sense when the thing strode into the dim light surrounding the tree.

James’ first thought was that it was a gargantuan mutated goat man. His second thought was that whatever had found its way down Grandma’s chimney on Christmas Eve, it most definitely was not Santa.

The creature stood at least seven feet tall. It’s sharp, curling brown horns adding another foot onto its height. It’s body was covered in a thick mat of shaggy black fur, from its hideous, wrinkled face all the way down to its giant, black hooves. It wore no clothing, except for two red leather straps about its shoulders that held a large, beige wicker basket tightly against its back.

A low growl came from the creature’s snarling mouth. James noticed with dismay that it was filled with row upon row of jagged, yellowed teeth. It’s eyes glowed a sickly orange and two thick, pointed ears arched up over the top of its head. It raised one heavily furred hand with wickedly long, brown claws and brought a single finger to its parted lips.

“Shhhhhhh...” it whispered, in one long, wheezing breath. Then it winked at him.

James found himself frozen in fear. He wanted to scream, to call out for his parents, but he couldn’t seem to find his voice. His mouth opened and shut like a fish floundering on land. His legs suddenly locked at the joints, unwilling to move.

The beast advanced and James could hear the floorboards creak beneath its weight. It came around the corner of the couch and leaned down to sniff the air around his head. Freezing cold radiated off of it. James could smell its foul breath as puffs of it ruffled the hair on his head. His mother had once accidentally left a pound of ground hamburger in the car for an entire day during the summer. It smelled worse than that.

After what felt like an eternity, the creature grumbled and took a step back. It looked pointedly over James’ shoulder at the hallway and tilted its massive horned head, sniffing the air with excited, exaggerated movements. It glanced down at him one more time, fixing him with its burning orange eyes and a smile filled with malice. Then it turned, almost smacking James in the face with the large basket on its back, as it strode past him and towards the hallway.

James’ heart beat even more frantically as he watched it with wide eyes head down the hallway toward the room he was sharing with his brother. He tried to scream again for his parents, but no sound came out. His brain on the other hand decided to once again communicate with the rest of his body and notified him that, while he may not be able to speak, he could in fact move.

James pried his white knuckled fingers off the back of the couch where he was still clutching it with one hand, and sprinted over to the fireplace. He grabbed the large poker from the wrought iron tool set and took off after the monster.

He caught up to it in the hallway. The ceiling was a bit lower here and the creature had to slow down as its horns and height required it to walk slightly hunched over. However its bulk still took up most of the narrow space and James calculated that to get around it he would have to squeeze past it. The large basket on its back prevented him from attacking it from behind and he thought his best chance of protecting his brother was to get between him and it and attack it from the front.

With a burst of speed and clutching the weapon close, James forced himself between the wall and the lumbering monster’s giant arm. The feel of its fur against the side of his face and body was like walking through a frozen thorn bush. Both the cold and the sharp bristles painfully abraded his skin, but he continued to push forward.

It growled at him as he passed, but thankfully his actions seemed to have caught it off guard enough that it didn't have time to reach out and grab him. He dashed into the doorway of the room where his little brother slept unawares and planted his feet, brandishing the iron poker in front of him. It was much heavier than he expected and he held it with both hands like a baseball bat, ready to swing or stab.

The monster came to an abrupt stop in front of him. It glared at him with those terrifying orange eyes. James stared back, defiance plastered across his face. He might not be able to speak, but the look on his face said everything he wanted to say. This thing would not be getting to his brother.

The monster tilted its head, smiling again, but this time it seemed...genuine?

It slowly reached a long, gangly arm around to the basket on its back and withdrew a small, round object, which it promptly lobbed at James’ head. Without thought, James let go of the poker with one hand and caught it.

Was this...an orange?

The monster laughed at James’ confused look. It was a soft, grating sound. It disappeared in a puff of black smoke, leaving another dark soot stain on the carpet. The temperature in the hallway immediately began to warm.

James continued to stand guard in the doorway for another moment, his one arm holding up the fireplace poker beginning to tremble under the strain and receding adrenaline. His other hand still clutched the orange. He expected the monster to reappear at any moment, but it didn’t.

James jumped as the clock in the hall suddenly started ticking again. He took a step out of the doorway and glanced at the old grandfather’s face. It’s hands pointed to a minute after two. He stepped into the bedroom. The digital clock on the nightstand was once again lit up with its familiar red glow. It displayed 2:01 am as well. Above the row of cats, the round clock on the wall also read the same time. For once, its second hand ticked in time with the hallway clock.

James placed the orange on the nightstand and leaned the poker against it, within easy reach should the creature decide to return. He briefly contemplated waking his parents up and telling them what happened, but then decided that he’d likely just end up at the hospital getting his head checked.

A sudden wave of exhaustion hit him and he stumbled into bed beside his brother. As he lay down he wondered how he was going to explain the soot everywhere and why his stocking, and only his stocking, had been vandalized during the night? Another wave of exhaustion hit him and he decided he would just deal with it in the morning. Who cared if he was punished. His little brother was safe. His family was safe.

James sighed as he rolled over to look at his sibling. He pulled the comforter up around his little shoulders and smiled at him. Silly kid had slept through the whole thing.

“I love you.” He whispered to his little brother as his head relaxed on the pillow. At least his voice seemed to be working again.

And even better, all the clocks were in sync.