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It’s the Most Horrific Time of the Year: Part 1

Imagine you are wandering a street on a cold Christmas Eve night. The street is empty. You are all alone in the night with only empty houses light heavily with colorful Christmas lights to keep you company. All of a sudden you hear a rustle in the bushes coming from behind you. You start to walk faster. Now imagine the tune of “Carol of the Bells” playing eerily behind you as the mystery Christmas psycho approaches. The psycho runs faster and faster catching up to you as you catch your breath. You turn the corner and the crazy person is gone. And people think songs with singing chipmunks are creepy. You might be surprised to find in the right context that song about a little reindeer or Santa Claus can be the darkest thing imaginable, especially these holiday song inspired horrors.

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Do You Hear What I Hear?

Once again it’s Christmas Eve. You’ve just finished watching “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, the house is decorated, the cookies are in the oven, and you cannot wait for your family to come to dinner tomorrow. You go from the kitchen to the living room to place a log on the fire.A loud knock comes from upstairs. Who could it be at this hour? The postman, a dentist, Grandma or maybe it’s Santa. Sadly that’s not the case. You’ve seen enough horror films to know that investigating is never a wise idea. Just phone the police on your cell phone(landlines are so overrated), unfortunately the signal is too weak to make a call. Another thud comes from upstairs. Should you try to make a run for it? Your speeding heart rate says”yes” but Mother Nature says “no!” The wind and snow are too strong for you to leave. You know what you have to do, a convenient fire poker should be sturdy enough to deal with your attacker. You creep up the stairs, the song “Do You Hear What I Hear” begins to play on the stereo system upstairs…

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Baby It’s Cold Outside

For the tenth year in a row, your peculiar neighbor, Neddy Bates, has spent his Christmas Eve alone and this will be his last. His prayers are answered when a charming young woman shows up on his doorstep. Apparently her car has mysteriously broken down and she needs to make a phone call. Neddy invites the woman in for a drink which she reluctantly accepts. They sit awkwardly in his living room for twenty minutes sipping eggnog (Neddy doesn’t drink) in silence. Neddy decides to break the ice by showing the woman his collection of teeth. The woman watches Neddy display his molars and she tries to withhold the vomit brewing in her stomach. After seeing Neddy’s twentieth bicuspid, the woman politely asks if she could use his telephone.
”Sorry, the phone company shut it off yesterday” he replies
[At this moment Baby It’s Cold Outside plays]
“Well I can’t wait around much longer, I don’t have time.” She says
“But you just got here.”
Normally she was used to dealing with awkward people. She had spent her whole life looking after her now deceased mother and her antics. She could imagine momma standing in Neddy’s corner shaking a wooden spoon naggingly.
“Now I told you never to talk to strangers you dumb bitch” The old hag would say.
She had no choice, her car was not working and that fact would not change. It was almost as if fate had conveniently placed a nail in the middle of the street for her tire to get impaled upon. Now she was standing in an old dusty hallway conversing with a grimy balding little man who coveted her like his next Twinkie.
“I really need to get home, to my family.”
“They can wait a little longer right?”
“No.”
“The snow outside will kill you. Just stay the night”
“No, I’ll take my chances.”
“I have coffee or eggnog, I can even heat up some chicken”
She had grown up in a crazy family long enough to know that this man was trouble and not the desirable trouble. She was repulsed by his fat exterior and did not want to spend another minute inside the old house while he ogled her profusely.
“Look Mister, I have three kids who will be worried if their mother isn’t home on Christmas and a husband wondering where the hell she stumbled off to.”
“Just stay a bit longer, I won’t bother yah” He said
“Did you hear a word that I said? I’m leaving, Merry Christmas!”
She stands at the door ready to turn the knob when in an instant s her head is struck by a blunt object followed by a throbbing amount of pain…

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Santa Claus is Coming to Town

“Mommy, I want my Ipad mini” one child shrieks. Another child shrieks “Daddy, where is my “My Little Pony Convertible Sports Dream Machine”?” This Christmas season Mommy and Daddy could not be more thrilled to brave the aisles of Targets, Wal-Marts and Toys R’ Us’s just to make their little “darlings” shut up. One little girl in particular has rehearsed the fateful tantrum she that would throw on Christmas Day if she found even one unsatisfactory present Her name is Irma and she is a 5-year-old, first-rate, brat, the modern problem child. She spends most of her time prancing around in her fairy princess tutu and knocking fragile items when she doesn’t get her way. Grandpa Joe from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory might say “she needs a good kick in the pants”. Sadly her parents are also modern and believe that disciplining a child will hurt its self-esteem, but even they need a break.
Irma’s parents decide to leave her home with Grandma while they go to a Christmas party. Grandma, a woman polluted with back problems, poor eyesight and arthritis.
“Irma, Mummy and Daddy will be home late, be good for Grandma” her dad said.
Her mother patted her cute little mushroom top hair, Irma frowned.
“Why can’t I go to the party?” Irma said.
Her mother turned to her and said “It’s a grown-up party”
“I’m grown-up too, I want to go” She commanded.
“I know Irma” Her Mother said,
“Mummy will take you to Disney World on her next business trip”.
They were already half way down the steps. Irma could pounce on them but she would rather rule over a much wider kingdom in Florida, not that her mother would deny her a trip to Disney.
“Hello Irma Burma” Grandma said.
“Don’t call me that!”
“I’m sorry honey.”
“Fine!”
Grandma had only been at the house for an hour and already the little terror had stolen her change, threw glitter paint on the walls, broke a vase and set a few booby traps with yarn.
She watched Irma run around the house in wonder. Her own daughter was never this crazy at this age or she would have been caned. But the good news was that children like Irma were more lethargic these days and soon after Irma began to wind down.
“Irma, do you know the truth about Santa?” she asks.
“Yeah, daddy says he’s a fat redneck capilist and he has to bring us toys”
Grandma could not help but chuckle at the little girls well articulated response. Of course her hippy son-in-law would say something a pretentious as that to a little girl. Grandma took a deep breath and said:
“No Irma that’s not entirely true. Actually they say that Santa only brings toys to good little kids”.
“What? Really?”
“Oh yes Irma.”
“What about the bad kids?”
Grandma looked up for a moment. A sudden smile spread across her face like Marmite on a piece of beef jerky. Irma was now hooked, gazing upon the Norman Rockwell antique tell her old tale.
“Well the bad kids usually get coal” she said.
“Coal?”
“It’s the stuff daddy uses on the grill”
Irma’s eyes widened, she wanted to know more, she had to know more. As far as she was concerned, this Santa fellow was trouble, but not her kind of trouble.
“I can’t play with coal Gramma”
“Well not all the bad kids get coal. Sometimes if Santa is really unhappy, he’ll give the kids a whoopin’”
A “whoopin’” Grandma said, the most amount of pain Irma had felt was a scrape she got from falling on the pavement at the park.
“But I don’t wanna get a whoopin’ Gramma”
“Well you won’t, as long as you’re a good girl.”
“But I am, I am Gramma, I’m a good girl!”
“Are you?”
Grandma eased her head up again and directed her eyes to the purple glittery stain on the living room wall.
“Now I may be old but my eyes aren’t gone yet.”
Irma’s jaw dropped. She needed to do the right thing and be a “good girl” or else Santa was gonna tan her “good”.
After cleaning those walls, cutting the yarn trap, returning Grandmas change and picking up shards of broken pottery, Irma was given the “okay” to go upstairs to bed.
“Don’t worry Irma, I’ll put out a plate of cookies for Santa to nibble on, then he can see what good people we are. Good night sweetie and Merry Christmas.”
At the toll of midnight Irma, in her Hannah Montana rockstar pj’s, was awoken by a large thud above from where she was sleeping. She ran down stairs.
“Santa better have something good for me!” She thought.
She wondered where Santa would come from. They had no chimney and even if they did, they would probably light a nice fire. Irma’s thoughts to the sound at the Cherry wood door. Thud, she heard. This was the sound of bones breaking or a door splitting open. The light of the Christmas moon glimmered on to her face and off of the ax blade gouging it’s way through the door…

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So you think you know whats going to happen next? Which story would you like to see continued next?

COMMENT BELOW!

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About littleblogofhorrors666

You have entered the Little Blog of Horrors. Each week or so, something new and horrific will be posted. Everything horror related whether it be horror movies, shows, books, video games, clothing, recipes or even musicals. Keep checking if you dare

3 responses to “It’s the Most Horrific Time of the Year: Part 1

  1. raylitt ⋅

    I love that you’re keeping horror alive year-round. I’d dig one on Chanukkah. Ever heard ‘chanukkah o chanukkah come light the menorah…’? Creepy.

  2. Oh don’t worry, I haven’t forgot about Hanukkah, after all it is the “Festival of Lights” 😉

  3. I say baby its cold outside. I have no idea why everyone loves that one. To me it sounds like a rapists anthem…no means no 😉

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