I didn’t believe it at first, there was no way of knowing that it was true. What he told me, I just believed it to be the crazed words of a dying man. Now I know the truth. I know the truth. I know the real reason why my grandfather hated Christmas.
It was like every other night that winter; I came to the hospital to visit my sick grandfather before he’d pass away. I walked in the door, signed in through the front desk and went into the elevator. The ride up was short but I can still remember the grinding of gears, it was very loud as the building hadn’t been updated in a very long time. When the doors opened I made my way to my grandfather’s room. The door was open; I knew he was awake because the sound of his harsh breathing was very distinct. I entered the room and sat down. The heart monitor kept beeping; his heart rate was steady but wasn’t beating enough.
He looked at me, smiling through his oxygen mask and struggled to speak due to the coughing that started as soon as he opened his mouth.
“It’s okay, you don’t have speak. Save your strength,” I said.
After the coughing fit, he took a moment to breath and said “Of course I do, it’s the only thing I can do in this place.” I chuckled at that and took a seat.
“What’s in the bags?” he asked, referring to the presents my family had gotten him over the weekend. “You know I hate Christmas.”
“Don’t be such a Scrooge,” I told him. “They’re from Jill and the kids.”
“Are they no—“ he began to say but started coughing again.
It had gotten worse since the last time I’d seen him. He’d been losing weight fast and was refusing medication. It was clear to me that he just didn’t want to live anymore and I wasn’t gonna stop him.
“Sorry about that,” he said. “It’s alright,” I responded.
My grandfather looked over at the window, watching as a thick layer of snow fell from the sky. A single tear began to fall down his face. I grew concerned, this wasn’t like him, I knew he’d never liked the holidays but not like this.
He seemed almost… afraid.
“Have I ever told you why I don’t celebrate Christmas?” he asked.
I shook my head no and he let out a sigh. “I guess it’s time to tell someone the truth before it’s too late.”
“Grandpa, what’s going on?” I asked.
He just looked at me with this cold, blank expression and began his story.
This was all I could transcribe from memory. This is what he told me…
***
It was a particularly dark night, it was snowing thick not unlike tonight. It was Christmas Eve and my family and I were having dinner. It was silent; no one said a word because earlier, my sister was found smoking pot in her room. I had just finished my food but wasn’t ready to get up from the table as I wasn’t sure what would happen if I did. Suddenly, my sister was ready to get up and my mother shot her a look. The same look I had been given when I didn’t do my chores around the house.
“Where do you think you’re going?” my mother asked.
“My room,” Gloria, my sister responded.
“No, you’re not,” said my mother.
This set off a chain reaction, my mother and Gloria began arguing again like they had many times before with my father stepping in every once in a while to take my mother’s side.
“You always over react over the smallest things, mom! It’s like you don’t even want me here!”
“What I don’t want is a filthy pot-head living in my house!” mother yelled.
I know now that pot isn’t a big deal but back then, it would’ve been the worst thing you could do. As the argument went on, I remember thinking are they ever gonna get along? I’m sure that one day they would have but because of me, they will never gat that chance.
“That’s it, go to your room!” mother screamed after another one of Gloria’s smartass remarks.
“Fine,” Gloria said, as scornful as ever.
I was stunned, not sure what to do so I asked if I could go watch TV but in the heat of the moment, my mother yelled at me too. I was scared.
“Just go upstairs, bud,” my dad said.
I didn’t want to and was about to say as much until I saw the look on my father’s face. I got up and did as I was told, and went up to my room.
I went into my room, I was angry at mom for yelling at me but even angrier at Gloria for starting it. For getting mom angry in the first place as she always ended up taking it out on me. I admit I probably shouldn’t have asked to watch TV but I was thirteen, I just wanted to do something other than listen to people fight. Now I was a very emotional young man, I was angry to the point of tears. I hated it when mom yelled, it was far worse than when my father did it.
I slumped against the wall of my room seething and just wished that everyone would just go away. In between the tears, I had just wished that I could spend every single Christmas alone in absolute peace. That night I went to sleep not knowing that I would get my wish. It just wasn’t in the way I had wanted.
CRASH!
Later in the night I had been woken up by a loud noise coming from downstairs. I was startled and unsure of what to do. So many different things ran through my mind as to what it could’ve been but I soon realized that if something was wrong, the house alarm would’ve gone off. This put my mind at ease, for a little while at least. I heard Gloria get out of her room, I was sure she was thinking as I did and thought nothing of it. Then a few minutes later, I heard her screaming. She was in pure terror. I was so scared I almost couldn’t move but I knew I had to do something. I grabbed my baseball bat and opened my door.
I crept into the hallway, slowly making my way down the staircase. Suddenly, I heard her scream “NO!” and I instantly started running only to find her being lifted up in the air by a tall, slender figure dressed as Santa Claus. Only it wasn’t. It had a dark yet pale-green skin tone and it was covered in long black hair.
“Let her go!” I yelled.
The creature turned to me, its red eyes glowing in the darkness. It sneered, turning back to my sister as its jaw began dislocating— unhinging like that of a snake. It has rows upon rows of nasty, sharp teeth. It brought my sister’s head into his mouth and bit down with a sickening crunch. Blood began to leak from its mouth, her body dropped to the floor, a large red pool forming around the thing’s feet. It began walking towards me, I was paralyzed with fear but upon seeing the body, I was both horrified and angry.
“You son of a bitch!”
I began swinging wildly at the thing but it grabbed my bat and tossed it aside, it picked me up by the throat like I was nothing. This— this thing let out a snarling hiss before tossing me into the Christmas tree where the glass ornaments shattered, slicing into my back causing me to let out a cry of pain. Just then, my mother and father raced downstairs only to see the monster towering over me.
“Get away from him!” my father demanded.
It didn’t listen, just kept eying me as if it knew who I was. Like I was familiar to it.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
My father quickly began to shoot at the thing but it didn’t hurt it, it only pissed it off. It turned around, racing towards my dad who just kept shooting. He emptied an entire clip into the thing and it did nothing. Its long tail wrapped around his waist and knocked him to the ground. At this point, I was able to get back up. I searched for my bat and grabbed it. I yelled for my mother to run upstairs to call the police and I started to hit the thing. I hit it over and over and over again but all I succeeded in was denting the bat.
It jammed a claw into my shoulder and slammed me to the ground over three times before it crushed my leg. It stood over me, ready to go in for the kill when a jagged smile came from what you could call its lips. It just pointed at me. It pointed at me and chuckled. My father stood up and tried to take the thing from behind but it grabbed him before he could do anything. It crushed his hands and I was forced to watch, to hear his arms and legs being pulled from the sockets as he screamed. I can still remember each sickening pop; I can still hear it crushing his rips.
Every time I close my eyes I see what this thing did to my father. It used its claws to flay his stomach before ripping it open and tearing at the flesh pound after pound. Blood nearly coated the monster’s entire body and the Santa suit it was wearing. I listened to my father call out for help, I tried to look away, I tried to move but it hurt too much and I actually puked all over myself at the sight. As the life left his eyes there was enough blood in the room that you could smell the iron in the air.
“Why are you doing this?!” I cried. “WHY?!”
All the thing did was laugh; it let out a seething, grim laugh. It sounded like a distorted person, something you’d hear in a movie but real. It was all real. It went towards the stairs; I called out for my mother to get out of the house but my voice went hoarse and soon the creature’s gangly limps were carrying it up step after step like some sort of dog. I tried to move, I tried to scream, I tried anything I could but I just couldn’t do anything. I heard my mother screaming out. I could hear her running; I could hear it laughing like it was taunting her. It was all just a sick game to the fucker and it enjoyed every second of it.
I listened to my mother die that night. That thing ate her whole and I know that because no one ever found a body. This— this monster ate my mother and it wasn’t even hungry. It did it because it wanted to. Because I wished to be alone. By the time I had realized why it hadn’t killed me, why I was still alive I heard a loud thumping.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
I looked up at the ceiling to see the thing’s glowing red eyes staring right into mine. Its contorted body dropped to the floor, cracking and reshaping into its normal shape. It walked towards me slowly as it hummed some sort of Christmas tune. It leaned down, grabbing a present from the remains of the tree and dropped it at my feet. All I could read were the words Merry Christmas, Timothy. I looked up at the thing. I spit in its face and it just laughed at me before getting closer.
“What, you think you’re some kinds Santa Clause?!” I yelled.
“Well, you’re not! You’re not Santa!” I continued.
It stared at me for a moment, its throat grumbling, trying to make a sound.
“No,” it hissed. “No, I am the mean one.”
What the hell does that mean? I thought to myself. It walked around acting like it was a Dr. Seuss character, looked the part too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d seen it before and used it as inspiration. The thing stuck out its long, forked tongue and licked the side of my face, leaving a trail of green slime to leak down my cheek. It then stood up and walked to the chimney. The bones in its body crackled and popped and it contorted and crawled back up. I listened to its footsteps on the roof. They went of forever and ever until they just didn’t.
After a few painful moments of trying to move, I finally heard the police sirens. I yelled for help and soon the officers kicked down the door. They quickly called an ambulance for me and asked what happened. I knew I could never tell them the truth so I had to lie. All I could say was “Santa Claus” before I passed out from the pain. Ever since then, the police had been looking for a man dressed as Santa when they really should’ve been looking for a monster. I was the only one who knew the truth about what really happened.
***
Soon after telling me his story, my grandfather told me to be careful around the holidays and went to sleep. I was in complete shock the entire elevator ride down. He actually seemed to believe his story. At the time, I thought it was just the ramblings of a very sick and traumatized old man. I knew his family had died, but he’d never said how. Was I actually to believe that some type of Grinch like creature killed his family? I honestly didn’t know what to think. When the elevator doors opened, I felt a calm sense of relief come over me. The story unnerved me and I just really needed to get away from there. I went outside to the parking lot and instantly felt a chill. It had begun snowing a lot harder than before and the temperature had dropped even more, I could feel it.
However, I felt something else too. I thought maybe the story had just gotten to me so I kept walking towards my car but the feeling only got stronger. I turned around to face the hospital and saw nothing, or that’s what I wish I had seen. Upon looking up, I could see a long, gangly creature dressed like Santa Claus scaling the twenty story building. I ran over to get a closer look and knew what it had to be, it was just as my grandfather described from its red eyes all the way to the long tail extended from its spine. It looked at me and raised a finger to its mouth as if to say keep quiet. It kept crawling, eventually getting to floor thirteen. My grandfather’s floor. It slowly opened the window and started crawling inside. I ran back into the building and yelled that something bad was happening upstairs. I ran up the staircase as opposed to the elevator and by the time I got to his room— the doctors and nurses called it.
Said he died from heart failure but I knew what had really happened. I knew what really killed him. It was that thing, that… monster.
There was nothing I could do or say so I drove home to be with my family for the holiday. I’m writing this now as a warning to everyone out there so they don’t make the same mistake my grandfather did. So you can avoid seeing the thing that I saw that night. The best thing every single one of you can do right now is just spend time with your family as you do not know how much time you have left.
I am taking my family on a trip, far away from town for Christmas. We board the plane tomorrow but even now I just can’t sleep. At least I know that my wife and kids are gonna be safe. At least, that’s what I hope…