“Jingle”

“It all started with a knock at the door. It was a late Christmas Eve, and it took some time for my father to separate himself long enough to answer the door and turn on the light. I followed him through the crowd of people I didn't know, friends of my father. My dad opened the door, the cold air stinging my face from my position next to my father's leg. There in the doorway was a very tall, pale gray creature. Its long, spindly limbs were settled close to its frame, its knees tucked against its chin as it attempted to fit within the short expanses of the porch.

“It's cold...Can I come in?”

Its face betrayed nothing of the motives behind its presence, save a warm smile settled low below a pair of bloodshot eyes. Its hair was drawn back and greasy, its form seeming to be lost between distinctions, rendering it without a sense of gender. The only clothes it wore was a single white nightie, its bare feet ending in purple flesh surrounding blue toenails that sunk and trembled in the snow.

I looked back at the den where all the stockings were hung. My mother’s was still in the box. Dad said it wouldn't be going up this year...Meanwhile, the song “Santa Claus is Coming Town” began to play, the other members of my family yet to be aware of that horror that crouched at our front door.

“You better not pout, you better not cry, you better no shout I'm telling you why...”

My father was silent for a few seconds, staring at the thing that dwarfed him in size.

“I'm not...not so sure that is a good idea,” my father responded. There was a tremor in his voice I couldn't quite understand, and his hands seemed to open and close without provocation.

“Please...” it pleaded. “I brought a gift for you and your family. All you need to do is let me come inside. It's cold...” With a short motion the thing reached behind it and brought around a square present. Flecks of snow were captured in the creases of the golden ribbon, and it was wrapped in red wrapping paper. It extended the gift to my father who flinched at the motion, then quickly pushed the present away and slammed the door. There was a soft breathing, and after several unbearable moments the sound of heavy footfalls sinking into the snow, moving away from the front door. Everyone in the house was silent, the only accompanying sound to the action being the words of the song that continued to play.

“He knows when you are sleeping. He knows when you're awake...”

My dad started reaching for his phone when I heard my sister scream. I turned around, only to see the tall, hulking mass crouched at the back sliding glass door, its features contorted into a deep frown. Its attention was focused completely on her, and with its index finger it tapped on the window.

Tap...tap tap tap tap...tap...tap tap tap tap...

My sister was horrified. My father stepped forward and grabbed the pull string, drawing the blinds closed. He then pulled out his cell phone and dialed the police.

Several minutes went by, and eventually the tapping stopped.

About a minute after that I heard another knock at the front door which my dad quickly answered, letting the police into our home. I stayed with my sister as my dad spoke with them. They searched outside but found no sign of the creature in the area. They said that we should be okay if we stay inside, but they would post an officer just in case. That seemed to put everyone at ease, and soon everyone was back to celebrating the holiday. But I couldn't relax. I knew my dad was unhappy.

Dinner went fine, and after that we sang songs and played games. When bedtime came, my sister and I took our baths without complaint and headed to bed. The whole day had exhausted us both, and we looked forward to sleep and the opening of presents the day after.

My sister fell asleep almost instantly, and it didn't take long for me to fall asleep as well. All that I remember next was being awoken by a knock at my window.

Tap...tap tap tap tap...tap...tap tap tap tap...

Its sinuous features peeked through the glass next to my bed, resting its broad fingers on my second story window sill. It had been watching me sleep. It smiled at me, and with a gentle, coaxing motion, it held up the same box that it had offered my father before.

The thing spoke to me, but not through the glass. Its lips moved, but when it spoke the sound was far closer. It was in my own head.

“Can I come in?”

I wanted to scream, to run and get my parents, but the moment I opened my mouth it smiled. A broad, thick, toothy smile. Its eyes turning from me to my sister in the adjoining bed. Then it turned its eyes back to me, waiting to see what I would do. I looked upon it with a sense of helplessness. Quietly, I began to turn the latch on the window, first one side and then the other. After a few tugs I managed to open it, the cold air entering the room. I waited, but the thing just stood there, its eyes focused on mine.

“It's cold.”

I felt a frown form on my own face, and with trembling lips I mouthed the word yes.

It wasted no time, shoving one of its arms through the thin space. First one, then the other. Then it gripped the edge of the bed and pulled its head in, the snow that had collected on its hair falling in clumps on my bed. It pulled itself through the threshold, while I remained pressed against the wall, hoping that if I willed it the wall would move and give me more space from the thing.

When at last its entire body was through the window it gently lowered it into a closed position. Then it settled itself in the middle of my room, its knees nearly touching the ceiling. It looked down at me, then reached behind it and pulled out the gift.

“Tell me what you want child,” it said. “What you want more than anything in the world.”

I spoke not a word, and yet though all my fear and all my anguish it saw what lay in my heart. What I failed to receive for Christmas. It opened the box and pulled out a small lump of fur no larger than I. The puppy looked up at it with confusion as the thing put its finger to its lips.

“Shhhhhh.”

Gently, it took my hands and wrapped them around the form, the warm fur like velvet against my arm. Then it moved to the bed of my sister. It stared at her for a long while, then it leaned down and planted a kiss on her cheek. Then it moved, silent as a ghost, to the door and exited the room, closing it with hardly a sound rendered.

I heard a creek as it headed down the hall, and then another familiar one as I heard it enter my father’s room. After that I heard no other sound at all.

I waited till morning before I left the protection of my bed. Finding my sister still fast asleep I headed into the hall, each step harder than the next. Each time I heard the wind cry or the house groan I flinched, expecting any moment for the monstrosity to erupt from each passing door. The young puppy followed close, silent save the jingle of its collar, seeming to sense my anxiety. At last I came to the door to my father’s room, my heart thundering in my chest.

I stepped into the light spilling into the hall, but dared not turn my head, terrified of what I would see…A minute passed. Then another. Soon my panic caused my body to shake violently, every single fiber of me ready to run. At last I turned my gaze inside the room.

My father sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. Somehow, subconsciously, he noticed me looking at him. Next to him a figure lay curled, their skin expanding and receding with each breathe. Barely above a whisper, only loud enough for me to just barely make it out, my father spoke to me.

“It asked me what I wanted most, what I didn't get for Christmas.”

His sight shifted as he noticed the small animal sitting just behind my heel.

“Merry Christmas,” he said with a sob. I could not respond, my tension falling away as I fell into cries of my own. Meanwhile my mother slept, but not as long as before.

It has been years since then. Every Christmas people talk about Santa Clause. Children and adults. They ask if I believe in him, or mention what a foolish thought it is. I only say that I do believe, but that it isn't what you would expect. And if they ask me to explain, I pray they never have to find out.”

The previous tale was given to me by the Unknown Author, who was kind enough to accept my invitation to join me for Christmas. It seems that the nights are far longer than normal, even for this time of year. I am not the only person I have spoken to that feels this way, though I have no explanation for why this is.

I was unable to post a piece last Sunday, due to a sudden onset of sickness. My breathing has since stabilized, but is still well off from normal.

The Author claims that this tale was not made up, but is in fact based on a real experience from her childhood. The police have been unable to find my friend, who went missing some weeks ago. There has been little physical evidence to report, and so far, foul play is not suspected. It is supposed to snow tonight. At least that may help brighten up the night.