Have a Bloody Christmas

Have a Bloody Christmas

  By Dairenna VonRavenstone

  Copyright 2011 Dairenna VonRavenstone

  Dedication

  This Christmas Horror novella is dedicated to all those who participated in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) 2011. Without your words of encouragement and the forums, I wouldn’t have written this novella. A big thank you to Darin and Vicky who critiqued and helped to edit this. Thank you to all my friends, my segregate family and to anyone who listens to my random ramblings.

  Author Note

  I will be re-working this and other titles in the New Year (2015) so expect some changes in the coming months.

  Inspiration:

  As I was writing my NaNo novel this year, I thought of a new story idea. The idea was to “paint the town red on Christmas” or “Have a Bloody Christmas.” For another week I couldn’t think of a story to go along with the title or idea. I actually used the same concept for Book 10 of my crime fiction series. Finally, I read a few more NaNo forum posts: advice, other people’s problems, prompts and it slammed into me. I had a plot, I had characters and I realized just how morbid I am. This is NOT your typical Christmas story. You have been warned.

  Part 1: December 20th

  Snow fluttered through the air in a whirlwind of icy flakes and each was a series of individual patterns. It coated the sidewalks, lawns, roofs, buildings, tree tops and vehicles alike in a non-discriminate cloud of fluffy whiteness. Lights glowed in a multitude of bright colors through covered trees. Porches were wound with ribbons that hailed a Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays. Snowmen lined the streets like cheerful guards.

  People were everywhere, some in clusters and others darting through the streets as a single unit. With the most joyful time of the year only days away last minute shopping became the norm. People flocked to shopping centers to buy gifts for people they only remembered at the last minute. Children were prancing around on their holidays, lobbing snowballs at one another or sliding down steep hills.

  One man in particular had just left his job for the holidays. He was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic as he inched his way to his undecorated home. That would be remedied soon, tomorrow in fact. They would find the perfect tree to cut down first and decorate it before decorating the house and building snowmen on the lawn.

  Meetings and last minute projects had kept him at the office and working for five days later than he had originally planned but he was not too concerned. There was plenty of time to catch up and he knew between him and his multi-tasking wife, they would make this holiday special.

  The car in front of him moved and he pushed forward humming along with the Christmas carol on the radio. Christmas had always been a special time for him ever since he was young. His sister was born in December and having a new addition to the family had been an exciting curiosity for his five year old self.

  He received his first bicycle on Christmas and that created a life-long love of cycling. He had his first kiss on Christmas, got his first real pay check around the holiday season and received his first pet. A mutt of a dog named Spike. He had met his wife on December 23rd at a friend’s Christmas party. She told him she was pregnant as one of her Christmas presents to him a year after they had a winter wedding.

  For him the holiday season was filled with wonderful memories that could be passed down and cherished. Like his mother’s should-be-famous apple pie or his father’s stuffing. Thinking of his father’s stuffing reminded him about the Christmas dinner he and his wife would be hosting. The whole family would be coming to their home to celebrate and he could not wait for them to be sharing a table together with laughter and joy.

  He made a right turn and was soon pulling away from the city proper and coasting into the suburban sprawl. The traffic seemed to evaporate as he pressed deeper into cozy homes with brightly colored lights and various snowmen. Snow lined the streets and the effect was calming on his frazzled nerves. He waved to a neighbour shoveling his snow and cruised into his own undecorated driveway.

  “You’re not being a Scrooge this year are you Tom?” the neighbour asked with a chuckle.

  “No, no, I’m going to be decorating tomorrow. Work has just been so busy and we haven’t had a free breath to even pull the boxes up from the basement,” Tom responded with a smile as he hefted his laptop bag onto one shoulder and closed his car door.

  “I was going to say, your house is usually the first on the block to be decked to the halls,” the neighbour joked.

  “Tell me about it, I hate that we haven’t been able to decorate yet. Heck, we haven’t even started Christmas shopping,” Tom admitted with a laugh.

  “Oh I pity you going into the malls only a few days from the big day,” the neighbour whistled with a shake of his head.

  “Don’t I know it. Well, see you later Jon, it’s freezing out and I know Grace has some hot chocolate ready for me,” Tom told him with a wave as he began to ascend his front steps.

  “Lucky guy, my Maggie doesn’t greet me at the door with hot chocolate until I’ve shoveled the drive,” Jon tittered and went back to shovelling the thick white snow.

  Tom snorted at that and grabbed the handful of mail before opening the door. A blast of heat hit him and he sighed happily as he entered his home and began stomping his shoes to release the extra snow. He smelled hot chocolate wafting through the air and allowed himself a small sigh of relief as he toed off his shoes. He dropped his laptop bag and coat into the closet.

  “Honey, I’m home,” he shouted out as he began rifling through the mail.

  A bill was first and he rolled his eyes at that before dumping it onto the table with another bill that had to be paid. Junk mail advertising a free credit check for the holiday season was next and that went into the waste basket under the table. More junk mail followed the first bit and another bill went on the table.

  He paused slightly when he came to a bright red envelope with no return address. His own address was not even on the envelope. All the envelop read was: “To my Family” in a large almost illegible scrawl that angled off to one side. He made a humming sound in his throat and tucked the red envelop under one arm before throwing out the last two pieces of junk mail.

  He shuffled into the kitchen to see his wife baking cookies with his two children. James was ten years old and looked completely unimpressed with the entire baking procedure. Tom knew James was more interested in eating the cookies then helping them come into creation. His little sister Casey on the other hand was begging to make another tray before supper. The two children were disagreeing on whether or not they should be making another tray of cookies as their mother acted as a mock-referee.

  “What are we having for supper tonight?” Tom broke into the childish argument with a smile.

  “Cookies!” seven-year old Casey exclaimed.

  “Yeah!” James backed her up with light shining in his eyes.

  “Actually we’re having meat loaf,” Grace informed him with a giggle.

  “I almost want to agree with the kids,” Tom moaned in jest.

  His comment sent the children in question into a fit of happy laughter. Casey’s brown curls bounced along her shoulders as she laughed, her green eyes lighting in merriment. Tom was struck by how much she resembled her mother in that moment and grinned. James was the fairer colored child between the two with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes, like his father.

  “Three against one mommy, we’re having cookies,” Casey informed her mother proudly.

  “Is my meat loaf really that bad?” Grace chuckled out.

  “No, no, just cookies are yummier. Right guys?” Tom assured her with laugh.

  “Right!” both shouted in unison.

  “We can have cookies afte
r dinner. Now go wash up,” Grace told them.

  They lamented about the need for washing up, especially when they would just be getting dirty again later but trudged off towards the downstairs bathroom with slow steps. Grace watched them go with a little giggle and Tom finally remembered the mystery envelope. He sat himself at the table with a little sigh of happiness.

  “Who’s that from?” Grace questioned as she placed a plate in front of him.

  “I don’t know. There isn’t a return address and I don’t recognize the writing,” Tom told her as he broke the elaborate seal of the envelope and pulled out a bright Christmas card.

  “Maybe someone put it in our mail box by mistake,” Grace mentioned as she started portioning out meat loaf and mashed potatoes.

  “Maybe,” Tom muttered as he studied the snowy scene on the front of the card.

  He opened it to see the traditional Christmas greetings. At the bottom of the card was the same nearly illegible hand writing and he stared at it for a long moment before making a small sound of confusion in his throat. The writing was just as sloppy as on the envelope but was written in a red marker that reminded Tom of blood.

  “Well, who’s it from?” Grace inquired in curiosity.

  “I don’t know. The only thing it says is: I’m coming home,” Tom replied with a shrug.

  “We don’t know anyone who would be coming home. It must have been put in the wrong mailbox,” Grace explained as she poured milk into four glasses.

  “Yeah, but as far as I know, no one on this street has anyone coming home for the holidays,” Tom told her as he tapped the card subconsciously on the table in front of him.

  “Does it really matter? It’s Christmas and we got an extra card. If a stranger happens to show up we’ll be able to redirect him to the right house,” Grace informed him as Casey and James darted to their chairs and waited patiently for the meal to begin.

  Grace untied her apron and flicked it over her chair before taking her seat as Tom placed the card on the counter close to his own chair. Thanks were given and soon the mystery card was forgotten until later that night when Tom was helping to clean up. He stared at it for a long moment before shrugging and putting it with the rest of the cards. An extra bout of Christmas greetings had never hurt anyone.