Lights Out

Merry Christmas

Red and green were always my favorite colors, ever since I was little. My family tried dressing me in pinks and yellows, blues and maroon, but as soon as I could I would strip them off and put on red or green. Some of the kids made fun of me for looking like a Christmas tree year round but it never bothered me. They just didn't have the same spirit as I did. They didn't feel the joy and warmness I felt with those colors. And that was okay because I could.

Now that I'm an adult, it was a different story. No one could dictate my wardrobe and other adults didn't really care what you wore as long as it was work appropriate. My husband sometimes gave me an odd look or two, but my twins adored the outfits I found for them to match mommy. And they love our annual trip around town and to the boathouse to see lights and trees decorated. Last year it was canceled since the snow came early but this year was right on track.

Once we made our way around the houses, Christopher took one twin and I took the other and we went into the boathouse for trees and hot chocolate. One of the firemen wrapped up a tree for us to take home, after a sizable donation mind you, and the twins sipped from their paper cups as we made our way back to the car. Christopher tied down the tree while I buckled in the boys but they wouldn't stop squirming long enough for me to get the clasps done.

"Boys, stop struggling would you? The sooner you get buckled the sooner we can go home."

One lifted himself from his seat and spilled the remnants of the chocolate on his brother who, now sticky and already upset, began to cry big hiccupping sobs. But at least he stopped moving and I could do the straps. The other slid out from under me and crawled out of the car, his little Elmo boots squishing in the soft snow. I went to grab him but my fingers only brushed the back of his jacket.

"Eli, get over right now. I will not ask you a second time." I reached for him again, snagging his arm this time and pulling him closer.

Eli immediately began to cry. "But mommy, there's a clown! I want to see the clown; I wanna see it now!"

I look over to where he's pointing and sure enough, a clown dressed to the nines is standing by the decorated trees holding little boxes of popcorn and balloon animals. If I had seen him there before we left I would take the kids over to get an animal to put on the tree. But my feet were swollen from walking so long and I'd had enough social interaction for the night. Fuzzy pajamas and a spiked hot chocolate were calling my name. 

"It's time to go home, Eli. I will buy you some popcorn tomorrow, or a clown sticker book or something, okay? It's late and mommy and daddy are tired."

Eli stopped struggling, opting instead to pout. His brother had stopped crying for the moment and pouted along with him, moral support and all that. I sighed and waited for Christopher so we could head home. I look back out the window and don't see the clown anymore. Maybe he's packed it up for the night, too. 

Getting the kids bathed and dressed for bed was another fight; Eli kept screaming for the clown and Ethan screamed alongside, ever one for supporting his twin. Christopher took over halfway through while I put out their footie pajamas and went to the kitchen for my spike cocoa sans cocoa. By the time they were tucked in and sleeping, the clock hands were well past eleven. Christopher joined me in bed and both of us were asleep before hitting the pillows.

My eyelids snapped open and saw a smiling Eli leaning over me. The red numbers by my bed blinked two in the morning. "Eli? What's wrong, honey? Are you okay?"

"Mommy, the clown came to see us. He said he had balloons and candy for Ethan and I."

My heart jumped into my throat and suddenly I hope it's a dream. I sit up and hold Eli's shoulders, making him look at me. "Eli, where's your brother? What clown are you talking about?"

Christopher was now awake beside me, still laying down but leaning over my side. "Eli, what's going on bud?"

"The clown is down in the living room. He brought toys and candies; he's under the tree with Ethan." Eli turned and ran down the hall, Christopher and I hot on his heels. When we got to the landing, a ripple of fear and anger chilled my body.

Like Eli said, there was a man in a clown suit tossing something around with Ethan. The boy giggled and tossed it back, looking sweet and innocent in the bright lights. Christmas is my favorite holiday and staring at my boys it's no secret why. But that man made me want to drive the fireplace poker into his back. 

The clown lifted his head and I instantly knew it was the clown from the boathouse. Christopher took the baseball bat he keeps in the umbrella stand and goes right for the clown. I rush for Eli and Ethan and pull them away, kicking and screaming. I hold them tight to my chest, hiding behind our tree to try to keep them safe.

The clown let Christopher hit him over the head. It cocked his head to a harsh angle, it should have killed him, but he just grabbed his poofy wig in his grubby gloves and righted his neck. It snapped harshly in the silence and then he lunged. My husband, my Chris, brought the bat up like a shield and caught the clown as it bit into it. It could have been his neck.

Eli elbowed me hard in the ribs, whether accidental or purposeful, and rushed to his daddy's legs. He clung to Chris' pants, and while he was distracted the clown reared back and swung at Chris. He clocked him over the head and he went down hard. The clown seized his opportunity and snatched up Eli, turning to me yowling with a mouth full of crooked yellow teeth. He took a knife from a hidden pocket, the end looking vaguely like a candy cane, and swiped it across my baby's throat.

I grabbed Ethan tighter and ran for the door, my phone in hand to call the police. I sobbed for my child, my tears soaking my remaining child, and watched helplessly as the clown drank greedily from my son's throat. I backed up until my bare feet touched grass, the operator trying to get me to say what was going on. 

The clown tossed the corpse of my bright eyed boy to the side and sunk his teeth into the shoulder of my husband. Sirens sounded behind me and before I knew it, the house was surrounded. But the clown disappeared; the corpse of my child vanished as well, my husband starting to come to on the floor.

The police sat with me on the ground since I wouldn't move, Ethan still gripped tight in my lap. He stopped struggling long ago, turning to bury his head in my hair instead. All of us grieving our lost boy.

Christmas was my favorite holiday.