The Real Santa Claus
By: Jim Esposito
Tags: Santa Claus, Christmas, Holidays, Fairy Tale, Gifts

It was Christmas Eve.

Oregon had never looked so beautiful and wintery. The snow scrupulously covered roads, houses and buildings, making it impossible to drive or even walk around. Although the sunbeams still made it through the thick grey clouds, the air was bitingly freezing and ice stalactites elegantly hung from the roofs as an add-on to the Christmas decorations.

The little town lied quietly at the foundation of a silent hill surrounded by the forest, which extended for miles and miles all the way to the nearby towns or any other type of civilization.

The Rumbles were a young four-piece family. The parents were in their late 30’s and their two boys were respectively 8 and 6 years old. They loved Christmas and the whole tradition. They would impatiently celebrate Thanksgiving knowing it was time to dig out the Christmas boxes from the garage and make a whole mess of glittering red adornments in the house.

They were undoubtedly one happy family.

The kids loved the whole welcoming Santa ritual. They’d leave cookies and milk near the fireplace to give the old man a snack break from his hard work. Besides, the better he was welcomed into the house, the more chances they had to receive the presents they’d asked for.

They did believe in Santa, and their parents had always been ingenious enough to play along — to get the gifts they most wanted, to consume the milk and cookies, to make some noise as to announce the presence of someone in the house and then hide. It was such a well crafted, and lovely, plan.

But that year, the younger had one particular wish: he wanted to meet Santa. Well, who doesn't? Though he was so motivated to talk to him in person, to thank him for his great effort, to hug him and wish him Merry Christmas. A legitimate wish for sure.

So, before going to bed, he sat in front of the fireplace holding his Santa hat tight, looking at the flames dancing in such a perfect motif that they drew his look in their hypnotic demeanour. He wrote him a letter and thought that if he’d toss it into the fire, it would get delivered to Santa via the smoke through the chimney and all the way up to the sky.

As soon as he left the room, the paper began to burn, tuning black on the corners and then forming a growing hole in the mirror until the whole letter was melted in the fire. But the last spark seemed to be hovering over the pieces of wood and floating in an unusual way. The message had been dispatched: Santa had been summoned.

The night was passing by. The kids were sleeping profoundly, giving in to the wait, and taking that time to relax before the intense playing with their new toys the day after. The parents had set an early alarm, as usual, to make the whole Santa scene look realistic. Silence and wait hour by hour.

She got startled at 5am sharp by some pesky noises coming from downstairs. Could’ve been a fox scratching at the door or an opossum doing food research in their trash. No, it was something else: it came from inside the house!

They both went down the long stairway with careful pace but the surprise they found once they approached the living room was no Christmas miracle.

The figure standing by the fireplace donned a worn-out red cloak. It was about 7 foot tall, its body build was massive, slightly hunched, long nails, dark skin as if scorched.

Before they could say or do anything, the kids showed up too, awakened by the turmoil. The little one smilingly whispered Santa’s name, but when the figure turned, showing its infernal features and a vicious glare, his hopeful light blue eyes widened in terror.

He didn’t know who he had summoned. Santa may have not been real but his devilish twin was no folklore. He was an old spirit from the middle ages who had been trapped in the fire during Christmas by a religious warlock; a warlock whose dark practises were rejected by the Christian church but still sought after by the God-fearing people.

The real Santa was evil incarnate. The legend of the bellied old guy who rewards kids for being good throughout the year wasn’t but a deceptive tale.

Horror and panic took over any Christmas feeling as soon as the beast advanced on them with its shining hell-born jaws.

It started snowing outside. The neighbourhood was quiet. People were still sleeping.

And that’s when the slaughtering began.