Short horror storys

Silent night

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Christmas Eve, it's always Christmas Eve.

Bare winter trees dotted about the town square glow with festive colour while a trail of small lanterns light the way from the square to the old church up on the hill inviting one and all to join the midnight mass later that evening.

A lonely figure, lost and forgotten wanders through the crowd. No one pays him any attention or even notices him. Yet he'd been coming here for years, too many to remember. He's no longer warmed by the sweet scents of mulled wine and roast chestnuts drifting over the crowd of carol singers. He always stays close to the caroller's because they remind him of the life he once had and yet could never have again.

It would be wise for him to leave now before it's too late but as always something distracts him. With a sentimental fondness he watches a young girl aged about five or six years as she stares up into the night sky trying to glimpse Santa's sleigh. Then he smiles broadly at her squeal of joy as the first flakes of snow begin to tumble to down, dusting everything with a soft magical powder. Her parents shiver and wrap their scarfs tighter around their faces while clutching song sheets in their gloved hands, determined not to let he chilly weather deter them from this annual traditional.

In the far corner of the square standing before a flood-lit nativity scene stands a man dressed in a Father Christmas costume. He announces the next carol to be sung and Away in a Manger rises from the assembled choir. It must be early, the figure notes, because the townsfolk still seem a little self-conscious about singing in public.

The figure knew he should enjoy these quiet moments and make the most of his temporary respite but he never could. The peace he feels standing amid the jolly crowd is never tangible because he knows it won't last. There's just never enough time he laments. It's nearly always the same; different faces and occasionally different decorations but the task is never complete and soon he'd find himself alone again, desperate and scared.

The final notes of the carol fade away and the pretend Father Christmas heralds the next yuletide hymn: Silent Night.

So soon?

The figure braced himself and took an involuntary step backwards towards the edge of the crowd. He wanted to get away from the nativity scene for he knows what stirs within the make-shift cattle shed.

The carol begins:

Silent Night, holy Night.

All is calm, all is bright.

Round yon virgin mother and child...

At that point the town square changed and the people abruptly vanished. He felt a moment of disorientation as if waking from a dream and finding the marketplace deserted except for him. There were no footprints left in the snow; nothing to indicate anyone else had been here tonight. It always happened this way; hours had just passed in the blink of an eye. All around the square the colourful lights had gone dark, returning the trees to eerie spectres, their spidery branches silhouetted against the pale ghostly streetlights. All was still and all was quiet as the world slept, unaware of his lonely plight.

The figure turned to face the shadowy nativity scene. The floodlights were gone but amid the shades of darkness he could see two yellow eyes watching him intently. A low throaty growl rumbled across the empty town square and the figure took another tentative step backwards. His foot brushed past something and he looked down to see the brown sack at his feet bulging with unknown items. He never saw the sack arrive; it just appeared when the townsfolk left and when Black Peter woke up.