FREE CHRISTMAS HORROR STORY 1

SILENT NIGHT, DEADLY NIGHT

By Lana Lazar

© 2023

It was Christmas Eve when it happened, that horrible, horrible thing. My friend Alison had invited us all to a party at her place while her parents were away, and I was looking forward to it because, party without parents? Completely awesome.

“Come on!” I yelled at my brother. “Will you hurry up? We’re going to be late for Alison’s party!”

“Alright, alright!” He yelled back. “I’m on my way down!”

Kyle thundered down the stairs and leapt the last few, landing smoothly at the bottom. He bowed smugly with a grin. I clapped to make him happy, pretending to be impressed, even though I really wasn’t.

Kyle and me, we were twins. We shared the same dark hair, the same brooding hazel eyes, even the same cleft in our chin. And of course, our parents were the same, too. The only thing we didn’t share were our personalities. While Kyle was kind of arrogant with a ego complex, I was quiet and shy, the kind of girl who tended to huddle in a corner at parties. With my friends and family, I opened up, but to outsiders, I could barely manage a word.

I admit, sometimes I was a little jealous of how easily Kyle was able to make friends, how easily he could talk to other people. For me, the same thing was extremely difficult. I would stammer and stutter and end up driving the person away before they really had a chance to get to know me better.

That was why I was so excited about Alison’s party. Alison was a girl I had met recently at school, and she accepted me immediately without thinking how weird I was because I stammered when I spoke, or making fun of my lack of social graces. I warmed to her instantly.

She was kind and generous, altogether a decent person, or so I’d thought. Until the party, the illusion wasn’t shattered, and I was glad for it. Those few weeks, they may have been the happiest of my life.

“Let’s go,” Kyle said now, grinning and taking my hand, dragging me to the car.

“You can let go now,” I grumbled peevishly, snatching my hand away from his grip. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own, thank you.”

He laughed loudly. “Are you, though? We all know how lousy you are with people, Em. Don’t want you to turn and run away.”

I flushed and my face turned bright red. Anger sizzled through my body, but I was careful to hide it. It would only give my idiot brother another thing to tease me about.

“Shut up, Kyle.”

He slid behind the wheel and threw the car into gear, backing carefully out of the drive before screeching down the road with an ear-splitting squeal of tyres. Did I mention Kyle was a rubbish driver?

It was just getting dark by the time we reached Alison’s and hammered on her door, shivering in the cold. She opened the door immediately with a grin.

“Hey, you made it!” she squealed, hugging me tightly.

“Merry early Christmas,” I smiled back, handing her the present I had bought for her. It was wrapped in silver paper and patterned with sparkly white reindeer .

Her eyes lit up as she took the gift from my hands. “Aw, Em, you didn’t have to do that!”

I beamed at her. “You’re my friend, of course I had to. I wanted to.”

Kyle laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t get you anything. I’m not a dorky stickler for tradition like Em. You’ll have to settle with best wishes from me.”

I rolled my eyes at him, although inside I was seething. Why did Kyle have to put me down at every opportunity?

Alison didn’t seem to notice how I felt. She giggled, actually giggled at him as though she found it funny. I felt so embarrassed, I wanted to cringe for her.

“That’s cool.” She opened the door wider, stepping aside to let us past. “Come on in, guys.”

The party was already in full swing. Christmas jingles blared out from the brand new stereo on the shelf, and an electric fire blazed in the fireplace, casting holographic shadows across the ornate stonework. The table was laden with food – crisps, popcorn, dainty little sandwiches in the shape of a Christmas tree, and bowls of bright red punch with ladles for scooping.

At least twenty people were already there, and I recognised most of them from Hallow Falls High. They were mostly the snobby type, the type of people who laughed at me, who made fun of the way I dressed, the way I spoke, the way I acted. They were the kind of people I’d always hated for the way they treated me – the way they treated anybody who wasn’t on their level, acting like they were so much better than everybody.

I stuck close to Kyle, feeling self-conscious among so many people, but for some reason he seemed annoyed. “Em, will you get off my heel?” he hissed, leaning forward so nobody else would hear. “You’re seriously cramping my style here.”

I stared at him in disbelief, then turned away. “Fine,” I said, and my voice shook. “If that’s how you feel -”

“It is,” he said, not noticing my expression, and putting his foot further into the hole. “Seriously, move.”

I turned on my heel and walked away. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes. Why did it always have to be like this? Everybody ignoring me, treating me like I was invisible or like I was a pain to be around, when all I wanted was to be included.

I sat on the sofa glumly, my head in my hands, squashed between a bunch of boys who were all arguing loudly, slopping beer everywhere. Crisps crunched beneath me and I shifted with a disgusted grimace, brushing them off the sofa and onto the floor.

“Hey,” one of the boys said, leaning toward me. His breath stank of beer and I instinctively leaned away, grimacing. “Aren’t you the quiet girl? The weirdo who never talks?”

I had been about to get off the sofa to get away from them, but I couldn’t leave that insult unanswered. “I’m not a weirdo,” I said quietly, and was surprised to find that my voice was shaking.

The boy seemed to notice I was upset and he backed away, raising his hands in surrender. “Hey, don’t take it to heart. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He leaned forward conspiratorially with a wink. “For what it’s worth, people always call me a weirdo too. But me, I take it in my stride, you know what I mean?”

I wasn’t sure I did, and was about to say so, but just then, his friend bopped him on the shoulder and he turned around indignantly to bop him back, laughing uproariously. I was left to think about what he had said, about taking what people said in my stride. How could I possibly do that? It was hard enough to deal with as it was.

I sighed and slid off the sofa. I was just about ready to leave when Alison walked over to me with a grin. “Em! I just wanted to thank you for this present you got me!” I smiled, ready to say how welcome she was, when her next words took the good intentions right out of my mind. “What is it again, something you plucked out of the garbage?” I stared at her, wondering if I’d heard right. Her smile wasn’t sweet now. It was more like a malicious smirk as she insulted me again. “I couldn’t tell what it was, you see. It’s just so . . . brown, like mud. Or kinda like that goop you have for brains.”

I felt as if I was imagining things. Why was Alison, kind, sweet Alison suddenly being so horrible to me? I heard laughter explode behind me, and realised they were all laughing at me. I looked around. Everybody was laughing, even my brother was snickering so hard he was doubled over, clutching his sides. My heart ached to see it. I couldn’t stop. The tears came, fast and furious, and I ran out of the room, my sleeve clutched across my face, sobbing as if my heart would break.

*

I ran down the deserted street as the snow fell in soft flakes, slipping and skidding on the ice as I went, wanting nothing more than to get away – as far, far away as I possibly could. I heard footsteps behind, sprinting to keep up and I didn’t bother to look. I just kept on running. I didn’t want to speak to anybody just then.

“Hey! Hey you, quiet girl! Wait up!”

Again with the quiet girl? I opened my mouth to retort angrily, spinning around to face the offender, and slipped on the icy pavement, landing painfully on my side with a sickening crack.

The boy who had spoken to me on the sofa caught up to me and winced. “Oh, God. That was a nasty fall. You okay?” he asked, grabbing my hand and pulling me up.

I frowned, briefly forgetting the ache in my side. Why was this boy helping me, after I had been laughed out of Alison’s party like that? Didn’t he think I was a joke too? Didn’t everybody?

I winced and staggered against him, rubbing my ribs as pain flared through the bone where I’d hit it.

“I . . . I think so. Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m Mack, by the way. Mack Morton.”

“Emily Hale.”

He draped my arm over his shoulder and we started to walk together, Mack supporting me so I wouldn’t slip again. He frowned at me as he spoke. “You rushed out of there so quickly, didn’t you want a ride home? It’s not safe to walk in the dark, you know.”

I looked at him. “Of course I rushed out of there!” I said incredulously. Hadn’t he seen? “Everybody was making fun of me! Even my own brother thinks I’m a joke!” I felt something cold trickle down my cheeks and I realised I was crying again. “Even my brother . . .” That hurt more than anything, that Kyle would laugh at me like that instead of sticking up for me. We were twins, we were supposed to have each others’ backs! But instead he was siding with my tormentors.

Mack’s brows furrowed and I felt a sudden, uncontrollable urge to giggle, bordering on the edge of hysteria as I looked at his dark brows and thought of two giant caterpillars crawling across his face. His face was craggy and his eyes were dark and brooding. Then I looked closer and realised that his eyes were actually a brilliant shade of blue.

“I don’t understand why you put up with it,” he said finally, frowning hard. “It must get seriously annoying.”

I sighed. “It’s just . . . I don’t know what else to do. So I just let it go on and . . .” I shook my head and stared at the floor, feeling a dull thrumming in my temples. My head started to ache. “What can I do?”

He stopped walking and gripped my shoulder so that I was staring straight into his eyes, those blue, blue eyes . . . so blue it was almost hypnotic . . .

“You could always kill them.”

*

I stared at him, wondering if I’d heard right. Surely he didn’t say . . . he couldn’t . . . he couldn’t actually mean . . .

“Why don’t you kill them?” he repeated, and his blue eyes blazed brilliantly with an intense fire.

I laughed nervously and carried on walking, trying to put some distance between us. He was seriously beginning to creep me out. “Ha - you’re joking, right?”

He hadn’t moved, his piercing gaze biting into me. “I never joke about stuff like this.”

I exploded. “Mack, that’s . . . that’s crazy! I can’t go around killing people just because I don’t like them. I mean, come on. Even if I did kill them, how would I do it?” I finished with a light laugh, trying to soften the mood.

Mack shrugged, burying his hands in his pockets. “You tell me. Gun, knife, poison, the possibilities are endless.” I stared at him in shock, quite unable to move. It was like my feet were rooted to the ground. A faint feeling of nausea stirred in my stomach.

“Emily,” he said softly, moving closer to me, and I think it was the use of my full name, but I didn’t run. “You’re not really going to let those creeps push you around forever, are you? Go on. Give them a taste of what they deserve.”

I looked up at his face, trying to find a hint of a smile, searching for the tell-tale twitch that would give him away. Not a muscle shifted. Mack was deadly serious. He really meant it. He really thought I should kill them.

“But, I couldn’t . . . I mean, how . . . how would I even do it?” I asked after a pause, wondering what his response would be.

“I say a knife.” He made a cutting motion with his hands. “Nice and messy, with just the right amount of gore – shows people you’re not to be messed with or the same thing’ll happen to them.”

“No,” I responded thoughtfully, still intent on calling his bluff. “No. Not a knife. An axe . . .”

His eyes lit up and he stepped closer to me. “Yes! God, Emily, that’s perfect! Now you’re getting it!” He caught hold of my arm and began dragging me away. “Come on. I have an axe in my house. My dad uses it for chopping firewood, but he’s so scatter-brained, he’ll never miss it for a day.”

“N-no!” I spluttered and shook him off. My heart was beating fast and my breathing came quick and ragged. “Mack . . . I can’t do this! I can’t believe you’re actually serious! I could never kill one person, let alone several!”

Mack tilted his head to one side, narrowing his eyes at me. His hands were still stuffed inside his brown leather jacket. “Fine,” he said eventually. “I guess I can give you some time to think about it. But think fast, it’s Christmas tomorrow and you still gotta bring those jerks their coal delivery.” He backed away and started walking backwards, still facing me. He pointed an imaginary knife at me and pretended to swing it. “Swish. Swing. Dead. Gone,” he said, flashing me a devilish grin.

I swallowed as I watched him spin around and walk briskly back to the house.

Mack couldn’t really be serious, could he? There was no way. It was unthinkable. And yet . . . that look in his eyes when he had suggested it . . .

I shivered and hugged myself tightly. A chill that had nothing to do with the freezing cold ran up my spine. Kill my friends . . . it was impossible. It was unthinkable. And yet . . . were they really my friends? Alison had strung me along, pretending she liked me when all along she was just like the others. And my brother . . . it was obvious whose side he was on.

I felt a sharp pain in my hand and looked down. I had been clenching my fist so tightly, the nails were digging into the skin. I stared at my injured palm in wonder. So tightly clenched, I had somehow managed to draw blood.

I wondered how that blood would look spilling out of my enemies’ bodies. Would it be bright red, like this? Or dark red? Would it be thick . . . treacly . . . gushing out . . .

I grasped my head and screamed inwardly. What the hell was happening to me? These thoughts, they were so bloody and frightening. So macabre. It wasn’t like me at all!

Then again, I wondered, had the thoughts always been there? Maybe Mack’s suggestion had been what they needed to wake up and become truly alive.

Before I knew it, my footsteps had turned toward Alison’s house. Mack was standing outside, smoking. He looked up as I approached and an approving smile spread slowly across his face.

“You changed your mind.”

I willed my legs to stop shaking and set my face in an expression of grim determination. “I just thought . . . I’d . . . I’d take a look at that axe.”

He shrugged and ground the cigarette into the snow. “We can go now, if you like.”

The drive to Mack’s house was spent in tense silence, me chewing my nails and Mack staring straight ahead, not saying anything at all, those fascinating blue eyes fixed on the road.

“Here,” he muttered, pulling into a large, empty driveway. His house was a massive stone behemoth that looked as if it had been pulled straight out of the pages of an old trapper’s magazine. “It’s just round the back,” he added, pointing to show the direction he meant.

I followed him round the house, looking up at the snow settling gently on the roof. It was a dark, moonless night. There were no streetlights where Mack lived, near the forest, so the only light came from our phone torches.

“Here we are,” his voice came suddenly out of the darkness and I yelped as I bumped into him. He smiled down at me. He was hefting a large woodcutters’ axe in his hands. The handle was long and wooden, the blade was sharp and polished, and gleamed wickedly in the torchlight.

I took it gingerly from him, wincing as the blade nicked my thumb. I sucked the blood away and stared at the axe. It was so heavy, so sharp, so . . . perfect.

“You like it?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured, caressing the blade where I had cut my thumb, relishing the sting I felt as it cut again into my skin. I glanced up at Mack who was watching me with a smile creasing his craggy features. “You think this’ll work?”

“She sure is a beaut. Look at your thumb,” he pointed out. “Just the slightest nick made it bleed like that. You try pushing that through someone’s neck, see how smooth it goes.”

A grin spread across my face and I couldn’t resist a teasing swing of the axe. Mack flinched away and I laughed at the sudden, terrified expression on his face.

“What are you scared for?” I asked, smirking. I had no idea he was such a wimp! “I have no quarrel with you.”

“Yeah, hah,” he chuckled nervously, ducking again as I swung for the second time. “I’d hate to imagine what would happen to me if I did.”

“I can tell you,” I murmured softly, as if in a dream. “Dead. Gone. Remember?”

He grimaced and I wondered what exactly was going through his head at that moment. “Emily . . . I think you should give that back to me now,” he said cautiously, holding out his hands for the axe and flinching as if he was afraid I might strike him with it.

“What are you afraid of?” I laughed and handed him the axe. “Did you honestly think I was going to refuse to let the axe go? Reign in that imagination, Morton.”

He laughed shakily. His face was pale as he shucked the axe back into place.

“There.” His hands were shaking and he didn’t meet my eyes as he spoke. “C’mon. I’ll drive you home.”

My eyes narrowed as he slid into the car and started the engine. I looked sideways at the shed, thinking hard. The axe . . . I would need it for the plan that had already begun to form in my head. Mack’s house wasn’t far, and now I knew where he lived. I could always come back for it later.

I really hoped Mack wasn’t going to wimp out, not after he’d got me all fired up. But as I watched his legs shaking as he drove, I wasn’t so sure he was such a worthy ally anymore. He seemed like the kind of guy that acted tough then wimped out at the crucial moment. I didn’t need someone like that around.

I looked up with a start as the squeal of brakes interrupted my thoughts. We had reached my house, the silver-white fairy lights twinkling in the pitch-black of the night.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said with a smile, getting out of the car. “Merry Christmas.”

He smiled but didn’t say anything, driving off the second the car door clicked shut, the black Volvo slipping and skidding down the icy road with a screech of tyres. I stared after him.

Damn you, Mack. Don’t you know how much I need you right now?

*

I snuck out that night – the night before Christmas, when everybody had gone to bed and the ornaments gleamed beautifully in the moonlight.

Tinsel shone silver and gold and the tree was decked out with homemade baubles, my brother’s signature scrawl decorating several of them. Kyle was always so talented. He really was. I stared up at the tree, smiling briefly, and stopped to admire it as I passed, touching it for luck.

But it seemed my luck was holding. Upstairs, while my parents slept, Kyle, his bedsheets wrapped tightly around his neck, was already on his way to hell, after he had put me through it. It was the least he deserved. A quick death at least – a small token of thanks for being my brother, however rubbish he had been at that.

“Enjoy the eternal quiet, Kyle, Finally, you’ll find out what it’s like to be me,” I whispered, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me.

The door clicked shut behind me as I stepped confidently out into the night. It was amazing. I felt really good, great in fact. I felt confident for the first time in ages. I restrained the whoop of joy that threatened to burst out and give me away. I had won! For the first time in my life, I had beaten Kyle at his own game! It felt so good, so good to be alive!

The freshly fallen snow crunched pleasantly beneath my feet as I made my way to the car, which lay huddled under a blanket of snow.

I grabbed for the brush and cleared the snow off, before starting the shabby little Citroen’s engine and backing out of the driveway, taking care to keep the headlights off. My parents’ bedroom faced the drive - they would see me leave if I wasn’t careful. And I couldn’t leave behind any trace of my deed.

The party was still going strong at Alison’s, and I smiled to myself as I passed the house, on my way to Mack’s. All the lights were out in his – either no one was home or everybody was asleep. Either way, I wasn’t going to complain.

The shed door stood wide open, swaying slightly on its hinges in the gentle Arctic breeze. I snuck cautiously in and grabbed the axe which lay tantalisingly on its side, inviting me, calling to me. Bless you, Mack, I thought, smiling to myself. Thanks to him, I was able to put things into perspective. I finally saw what I needed to do, what I had wanted to do all along.

Cruising back past Alison’s house, I could hear raucous music spilling out onto the street. Silhouettes danced behind the curtains, and I, sitting in the car behind the wheel, hefted the sharp, sharp axe in my hands.

“Party time, friends,” I whispered grimly and smiled.

I got out of the car and knocked loudly on the door. Alison opened the door and grimaced when she saw me. “Hey, didn’t you leave like several hours ago?”

I nodded, the axe hidden carefully behind my back. “Yes, but I realise now how stupid I was to leave such a great party.” I tilted my head to one side, a slow smile spreading across my face. My ears were thundering with the blood rush and I could feel the adrenaline pumping in my veins. I was dying, just dying to get this party going.

Come on, Alison. Let me in so I can paint the walls red with your blood. Let me in so I plaster your entrails as decorations. Let’s us both have a bloody, bloody Christmas.

“Come on, Al,” I wheedled. “We’re friends. Aren’t you going to let me in?”

She scowled at me, her arms folded, leaning against the door so I couldn’t slip past her. “Friends? Friends? You’re kidding me. Did you not get the hint, or are you actually thick? You’re not welcome here anymore.”

“Yeah,” I said slowly, my voice hardening as the anger I had been suppressing grew. “About that, did you enjoy stringing me along all these weeks just so you could tread me down into the ground?”

She laughed, her long blonde hair swinging as she tossed her head arrogantly, pale green eyes flashing. “Yeah, actually. I did it on a dare. Won me twenty bucks, and it was a lot of fun, too! I’ve really enjoyed stringing you along all these weeks.” She doubled up hysterically, laughing, pointing at me. “Your expression! Your expression when you realised somebody didn’t think you were a pathetic weirdo! God, you’re such a loser! You actually believed I liked you! Sorry, Em, but you’re just so easy!” She laughed again.

The anger reached fever pitch, and I saw red. When it came to it, I didn’t even think. It really was as simple a matter as Mack said. I raised the axe, and I swung.

Swing. Swish. Dead. Gone.

Alison didn’t even have time to scream as the blade arced toward her. Blood spewed as her arteries ruptured. It was over very quickly.

I stared down at her prone form. I didn’t feel happy . . . but I didn’t feel sad, either.

I felt . . . exhilarated. That was it. I was exhilarated. It was a novel sensation. I enjoyed it. But I wanted more. I wanted so much more. I wanted to see tears. I wanted them to cry. I wanted them to beg, beg for mercy so I could deny them and watch them scream as they died, slowly, in unbearable agony. I wanted to see them swimming in a bloodbath of my creation. I wanted to kill them. I wanted to kill them all, every last one of the creeps who had made my life a misery.

Suddenly, Alison twitched. She was still alive? Well, that was too bad for her. I grimaced and raised the axe without a thought, bringing it down hard. Again and again and again. Until she was nothing more than a bloody pile of pulp and guts. I stopped to catch my breath and shook my head, almost feeling sad for what could have been if only Alison hadn’t been such a two-faced cow.

“Should’ve stayed put,” I muttered.

So heavy . . . the axe was so much heavier than I had thought it would be. I looked at Alison and made a face. She may have been pretty enough in life but she certainly wasn’t much to look at now. Bloody. . . trampled . . . rotten . . . just like her heart, laid bare for everyone to see.

I sidestepped the bloody mess on the polished hall floor that had once been Alison Peters and stepped inside, pulling the door quietly shut behind me. The music was still going strong. Apparently, nobody had heard me strike her over the noise of the party, and I thanked my lucky stars for that.

I made my way down the hallway towards the last room before the kitchen – the living room – where everybody was gathered. I chuckled to myself, hugging the blood-spattered axe close to my chest. It was going to be a massacre. A crimson massacre.

“Knock, knock!” I giggled, rapping gently at the doorframe. The dancing stopped. One, two, then everybody’s heads turned towards me, taking in my blood-splattered clothes, and the axe, coated deep red with Alison’s blood.

There was silence for a moment.

Then the screaming started.

And the laughing. It took me a while to realise that I was the one laughing. Hysterically. Laughing, over and over as I swung, slashed, cut. Blood streaked the walls scarlet, glinted off the sparkling baubles, and dripped off the tree, softly plipping down to the carpet below.

As cheerful X-massy jingles played, I murdered. I swung and I slashed, tearing my former tormentors apart in a thrilling explosion of blood and guts. I didn’t, couldn’t stop, until a horrified voice suddenly broke into my blood-spattered haze.

“Emily! Emily, stop! Are you . . . are you insane?”

I stopped chopping Keean Johnson’s arm off with a start and grinned happily as I saw him. “Mack!” I cried. “You came! Come look! Look at what I’ve done! Isn’t it amazing? Isn’t it a thing of beauty?”

He looked horrified. His mouth was hanging open, and his craggy face was bleached white. He looked like he was about to be sick.

“Emily,” he whispered, putting his hand slowly to his mouth. “My God, Emily. What . . . what have you done?”

I frowned, genuinely confused. The blood-splattered axe hung limply from my hands. My clothes, thoroughly drenched with the blood of my victims, stuck uncomfortably to my body, clinging tightly to my trembling limbs.

“What do you mean? It was your idea. I did it, just like you said. Aren’t you happy?” I asked tenderly, stepping closer to him, reaching out to him, the one who had inspired me, the one who had made me happy, the one who had told me to strike back against my tormentors, the one I had obeyed.

He backed slowly away from me, and to my shock, I realised that tears were steadily streaking a path down his cheeks.

“Damn it, Em!” he spluttered. “It was a joke! It was all a joke! I thought you knew that! I never meant for it to go so far! I never meant for you to do . . .” he choked as he looked around at the dead bodies of his friends, severed limbs strewn across the carpet and furniture, blood gleaming off the festive ornaments, the mauve contents of the upturned punch bowl dripping softly off the table with a sickening plop. “. . . this.”

“But I wanted it,” I said stiffly. What was wrong with him? Why was Mack saying these things to me? Why now, after he had inspired me to do all this? I didn’t want to hurt him, not really. But I could feel the anger rising steadily inside me. It was red hot, scalding, bubbling inside my body. I had to let it out somehow.

As if in a dream, I began to raise the axe above my head. “I wanted it all along,” I muttered, my reason steadily disappearing behind a red mist of fury. “To get revenge on everybody who ever mocked me. You helped me realise that, Mack. You helped me realise how much they deserved it. But now you’re backing out too. I guess I should’ve expected it. You were just like everybody else. Just like them, you were stringing me along all the time, weren’t you? And since I can’t have any witnesses, I’m sorry, but now you have to go too.”

“Emily,” he said softly, and he was sobbing gently now, overcome with guilt, with grief. “I’m sorry, so sorry that I didn’t realise how disturbed you had become. You have no idea how bad I feel about this.” He started to walk forward slowly, coming closer to me, his hands raised in surrender. “Please, put the axe down. You’re sick, Emily. You need help.”

“I need help!” I screamed furiously, raising the axe still higher, preparing to strike. “I need help! It was you! You who suggested it to me! You who told me to kill everybody who had ever been mean to me! And now you’re blaming me! You’re saying I’m insane! Well, I’m not! I’m not!”

I brought the axe down hard. I let out an angry cry as he dodged sideways, the blade missing him by a hair’s breadth. The next second I cried out as Mack launched himself at me, knocking me off my feet. The axe flew out of my hand, wedging itself in the brown leather sofa, painted red with Gina Alcox’s blood. I stumbled backwards, tripping over the hearth rug and falling into a grotesque tangle of entrails with a disgusting squelch of squished guts.

I screamed as Mack dug his knees firmly into my sides and gripped my shoulders, pinning me to the floor. I bit and fought, swearing, screaming, struggling to get free.

“Let me go!” I shrieked, thrashing wildly beneath him. “Let me go! I swear, I’m going to kill you, Mack Morton! I will! I will!”

“Hush, Emily,” he said softly, stroking my cheek as I stiffened underneath him. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

I sagged in defeat as I heard the sirens wailing, roaring up the drive. Red and blue flashing lights washed through the blood-soaked room. I felt Mack relax against me with a sigh of relief.

“They’re here,” he murmured. “The police are here.”

I felt hot, salty tears roll down my face. It was ruined. Everything was ruined. My revenge would never be complete now.

“Don’t cry,” Mack said tenderly, wiping my tears away. “We’ll get you the help you need, Emily. I promise.”

I closed my eyes and laid my head back, sobbing gently as Mack rocked me in his arms and comforted me.

“It’s Christmas now, you know?” he said softly, staring out of the window as so many feet thundered into the house and down the blood-drenched hallway. I could hear the church bell ringing vaguely in the distance. He sighed, a faint smile playing across his lips as he rocked me back and forth, calming me, wiping away my tears. “It’s just gone midnight.”

“Is this your present?” I asked him, choking back my tears. “To ruin my perfect revenge? To lock me up in the psych ward for the rest of my life?”

“No,” he said softly, looking me in the eyes. “I was going to get your brother back for you. But not with murder.”

I sighed and let my head rest in the crook of his arm. “I already did that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” he murmured as the police burst in, followed by four more men, from the psych ward, I guessed with an exhausted exhale of breath. Well, let them take me. I was ready for them. I was too tired to put up anymore of a fight.

“Oh, God,” the leading officer gasped, gagging and clamping his hand over his mouth, as he took in the carnage. “Oh, dear God.”

“It’s okay,” Mack said softly, as the men leant to take me away. “She won’t put up a fight now, will you, Em?”

I smiled up at him, feeling truly happy for the first time in a long while. “Why should I? After all, it’s Christmas.”

THE END

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Author’s Note

Dear valued reader. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I especially hope that it kept you up at night, shivering and peering fearfully into every dark corner . . .

Reviews are invaluable for helping new readers find my books. Please consider leaving one on Amazon or Goodreads if you have a moment.

Looking for something new to read?

You can find a complete list of my stories on my Amazon author page. I also regularly update Twitter.

Please share this short story with your friends and family – your support is invaluable for an indie author at this crucial time.

You can also follow me on Twitter @lanlaz_author! I look forward to meeting you in the twilight! Don’t forget to look over your shoulder – I may bring a few fiends . . .

Spookily yours,

Lana Lazar

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Voices

Rory has been hearing strange voices in her head for a long time. Raspy, murderous voices that can make her do anything they want . . . however much she doesn’t want to do it.

Are you listening? Let’s play . . . the Fire Game . . .

Available now on Amazon.co.uk at https://www.amazon.co.uk/VOICES-EXORCIST-NOVEL-Lana-Lazar/dp/B0CMDQT5F4/

Published Goodreads blog: November 25th 2023