It’s that time of year again. Most other families think of winter as some magical thing. Freshly fallen snow on the ground, Christmas lights all around, chestnuts roasting on an open fire. My entire life I’ve dreamt of a winter like everyone else’s. But not when I’m a part of this family. My family is… different, to say the least. We’ve never had a winter wonderland like everyone else, our December nights are taken up by barricading, hiding, and praying. Lots and lots of praying. My grandparents have a box full of small slips of paper, each with its own prayer or blessing on it. They have us draw prayers like it’s the damn lottery and not something that our lives rely on.
Anyways, I know you’re all wondering what the hell I’m talking about. Well, it started 56 years ago. My great grandma had been cheating on her husband, my great grandpa, for over three years and had been diagnosed with lung cancer several months before. Her relationship with my great grandpa, Bert, had already been deteriorating since her diagnosis. Her entire life was on the brink of collapse. Her marriage was falling apart, she had less than two years to live, and her medical bills were rapidly bankrupting her and her family. But she found a solution to all of her problems. All she had to do was make a deal with the fucking devil and curse her family for the rest of eternity. And, you guessed it, she took the offer. So now, every year near the beginning of December, our entire family is haunted and tormented by demons and spirits. All so she could live another 30 years and keep her marriage afloat. I’d say all the horrible things I think of her, but I’d probably get shadow banned off the platform. Plus I need to get back on track anyways.
So, why am I even writing this? Well, it’s New Year’s Eve, which can only be described as the peak of our haunting. Biblical paintings and crucifixes hang around the house, the family bible lay freely on the coffee table, grandma murmuring prayers every chance she gets. The whole nine yards. We did an extra prayer drawing this morning, at lunch, just a couple hours ago, almost hourly. I’d much rather just choose a prayer to say, but this is the way my grandma likes to do it. Mostly to entertain the younger kids. But I’m 16 now, I don’t need to be entertained while I’m praying to God for my own life. We do this every New Year’s Eve, but tonight felt different. Like no amount of prayers could work. Even the family bible and crucifixes couldn’t provide any level of security.
The night had already been unsettling, but around 11:15 was when shit really hit the fan. “Just until midnight,” grandma always said. Midnight was the temporary stop to our curse. If we made it to midnight on New Year’s Eve, we’d be fine. But nothing could stop them this time. By 11:30 we were all locked behind our bedroom doors with a cross and a vial of holy water. My grandma always carried plenty of holy water during the winter, as if it would help. These things were beyond any biblical protection or prayer.
I’ve been locked in my room for an eternity now. It’s past midnight, so happy new year, I guess. Not that any of the festivities matter when you’re hiding from demons. There’s been a deafening scratching at my door and a sinister laugh outside my window for over an hour. I already know I’m not gonna make it. This is only one last Hail Mary to make sure I’m not forgotten. Winter is here. And this time, it’s here to stay.