Christmas Nightmare

Twas the night before Christmas.
I said to myself, "I think I will murder and bury an elf."

The itchy wool on Christopher's chin was not helping his mood. Nor were the whining kids who asked for the same things as soon as a sweaty little elf sat them on Christopher's lap.

"I want a Ninetendo Wii with a dancing game."

Whatever happened to dancing to the radio? You need some pixelated moron on a screen to tell ya how to dance?

"I want a Bumblebee transformer."

Kid, there are like 12 different versions, and not all of them are even from the movie. Pick one.

"I want to be an angry bird."

You're weird.

"I want an angry bird!"

You're weird, and you're annoying. But your mom is hot, so my smile is genuine this time.

"HO HO HO!"

The Mall of America was due to close in another few hours, but Christopher (aka Saint Nick) was done for the evening. His long term relationship with a woman had ended badly more than a year ago, and he was only now coming to terms with it. He had family on the East Coast, but he was confident that a holiday gathering with them would devolve into a chorus of "I told you so," from other family members. Still, he craved company. A little tabby cat might even be nice, not that he could afford cat food right now.

As he drove home in a raging snowstorm, Christopher spied a pale woman on the side of the road with no hat and extremely wet hair. In this deluge, that seemed odd, not to mention dangerous. He was normally wary of picking up hitch hikers, but he couldn't leave this woman to freeze, all hunched over and ...lonely.

The young woman ran to the car, pulled open the back passenger door and threw herself into the backseat. She shivered a bit and she looked at him through his rear view mirror. When her eyes met his, Christopher's heart skipped a beat.

"Well, it's a wonderful life after all."

"What did you say?" the cold, pale beauty behind him asked. Had that been a hint of Irish brogue? Chris loved a woman with a foreign accent.

"Oh. Um. I'm just getting back from the Mall back there. All the Christmas and everything. Guess it's in my bones," Christopher said nearly breathlessly. What the fuck was wrong with him?

"Oh, you like the holiday, do you?" Chimed the red headed Irish beauty.

"Well, it has its moments," he said dismissively. "Where you headed anyway?"

Her eyes blazed in sudden and ominous anger. That was alarming, but maybe he should have expected that. Perhaps she was running from something or someone. Maybe he hadn't seen that flash of red.

"Miss?"

She shushed him and smiled.

"Away in a manger, no crib for His bed," the angelic beauty began to sing in a delicious voice that immediately led Chris to lascivious thoughts. Maybe he would get lucky tonight. The carol didn't sound familiar though. Damn, no in that way!

But something was wrong. As the carol continued, Chris began to see images floating in front of him.

A woman from a century ago appeared in a white wedding dress. She was smiling radiantly at her new husband who smiled back.

"The cattle are lowing, the poor baby wakes."

They were home together, husband and wife. The husband smiled and looked his new bride up and down, but something was wrong. His smirk turned into a snarl before he gave her a vicious backhanded blow to the mouth.

"But little lord Jesus, no crying He makes."

She flew backward onto a bed and her husband leaped on top of her, ripping and clawing at her beautiful dress. Her breasts were exposed, and then her legs. He violently tore her undergarments aside. She screamed and he punched her in the vulva and the midsection. She gasped for breath.

Chris's foot began to press down on the accelerator hard. He could feel the car losing control on the wet road, but sweat was beading on his forehead and his chest felt as though it was in danger of imploding. He breathed rapidly.

"Be near me.."

He thrust himself inside her and began to strangle her . Her eyes widened in panic and horror.

"I ask thee..."

Why was he doing this? Had he married this woman just to kill her?

"Close by me..."

She tore and clawed at his face until he choked the life from her. A look of relief and regret crossed his face before he kissed her lifeless cheek.

"And love me I pray."

The word pray sounded in a guttural snarl as Chris winced, a pain piercing his chest like a sword thrust. He looked into the rear view mirror and only the pain in his chest kept him from screaming. The woman's cheeks had sunken, her eyes blazed with the fires of hell, and her mouth had stretched into a smile so wide and grotesque that it tore the sides of her cheeks upwards as blood and saliva spilled freely down her chin. She licked the sides of her mouth with her forked tongue and laughed.

And as Chris's eyes widened in a moment of horrified clarity, he knew who she was. And he also knew the face of her killer as it swam in front of his burning eyes. It was his.

The Creature in the backseat screamed, and Chris's ear drums exploded as blood erupted out of his ears. He collapsed sideways, but not before every bit of car glass shattered inward and turned his face into a bloody, disfigured pulp. As the car crashed into a median, the entire front crumpled in on itself like an aluminum can crushed under someone's foot.

"Bless all the dear Children in thy tender care, and take us to heaven to be with thee there," sang a cackling voice.