On Monday mornings, I send out a story via email: ultra-brief tales of 1,000 words or more, usually in genres including horror, science fiction, and the supernatural. Those stories collectively are called Once Upon A Time. I’ve also published several ebooks and compendium volumes of those stories so far.

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Here's story 155, of 240 so far.

Naughty List

It was a little after two o’clock on Christmas morning when they heard the faint sounds.

First there was a muffled thump from the roof, and then the unmistakable scrunch of boots upon the thick layer of snow that had fallen the previous day. The sounds reached the top of the chimney, which had been bricked up years ago and no longer opened into any fireplace, and then there was something like a gust of wind. A moment later, they could hear the clunk of the same boots downstairs, against the hardwood floor of the living room.

The boy and the girl leapt from their beds in a haze of excitement, and scurried from the room they shared, mindful not to wake their parents next door, then they crept downstairs.

The man and the woman in the next room, attuned from years of parenthood, wakened by some obscure instinct, and heard the tell-tale sound of small feet descending the stairs. The man sighed, having expected this, and he knew that the day ahead would be long.

He moved to a sitting position in bed, his wife still lying down but awake, staring at him. He glanced at his phone on the bedside table, thinking of its ability to make videos rather than calls. Even though he was going to send the children straight back to bed, it would make for an amusing record of their harmless misbehaviour. He decided against it.

“Do you want me to come down too?” his wife said, the bedcovers still pulled right up to her neck, but the man shook his head.

He got out of bed, took his robe from the hook on the back of the door and pulled it on, and reflexively yawned. Reminding himself that he should keep an even temper, and that he had doubtless done similar things as a child himself, he went out into the hallway. He closed the bedroom door behind him, in the hope that his wife at least might drift back off to sleep.

The man quietened his step as he went down the stairs, and when he crossed the hallway and entered the living room, he saw the expected sight of his son and his daughter standing in front of the Christmas tree, and the unexpected sight of Santa Claus sitting in the armchair just across from them.

“It seems that your father has come to see why you’re not in bed,” Santa said, his voice jolly, as if the whole situation was the very best of jokes.

The children looked around at their father with guilt written all over their faces, and the man reached his arms out towards them. The girl ran to him, relieved, but the boy just returned his attention to Santa, who laughed.

“Off you go to bed, both of you,” Santa said, and the boy took a longing glance at the brightly-wrapped gifts laid out beneath the Christmas tree, before reluctantly joining his sister beside their father. The man ushered them out, unsure what else to do, and he and Santa both listened to the sound of small feet on the stairs once more, much slower in their ascent than when they had come down only a few minutes ago. After several seconds, a door was closed.

The man turned to the intruder, momentarily at a loss for words, and Santa lifted himself from the chair to stand before him.

“Much better,” Santa said, “and your wife has just fallen asleep again too. Those little ones are such a blessing! You’re a fortunate man.”

“You’re not real,” the man said, sounding not entirely sure of himself. “There’s no such… I mean, I… we already got the children’s presents,” he finished lamely, too dazed to be troubled by his own inarticulateness, or the triviality of the response.

Santa laughed merrily, clapping his hands against his own belly. “Oh, so I see, so I see,” he said, gesturing at the Christmas tree and the many brightly-wrapped boxes around its base. “Everyone does! I haven’t been responsible for gifts in the longest time.”

The man knew that the figure was indeed Santa Claus, despite his protest regarding him not being real. He knew it in the same way that a cat knows a dog, or a monkey knows a tree. It was encoded into his very being, and he had absolutely no doubt as to the identity of the portly man in the vivid red and white outfit.

“Then why are you in our house?” the man asked, sounded suddenly young himself, and feeling lost for anything more authoritative to say.

“Well, it’s because you’ve been naughty, of course,” Santa said.

The man blinked at him.

“Those unpleasant words to your wife last week,” Santa said. “And your remarks about your mother-in-law too. You won’t be saying that sort of thing to her face when she arrives later today, will you? And that’s without even thinking about those cigarettes you keep in your desk at the office. And flirting with your secretary. Goodness me!”

“I, uh,” the man said, feeling ashamed now, as if he’d let his own father down.

“Just remember, I know absolutely everything about you,” Santa said. “I’ve known you since you were the littlest boy. How adorable you were! And I know everyone that you know. I could tell them anything that I wanted! I could write it all down and leave it on their dining table. Or at the office. Or anywhere at all.”

Santa pointed at the man, his face full of mirth and cheer, with rosy cheeks and kind, twinkling eyes. “Why, I could ruin your whole life! Wouldn’t that be a tragic turn of events. So have a think about it, and maybe we’ll see if you’ve been better behaved next year.”

The man nodded slowly.

Santa went over to the mantelpiece and smiled at the glass of milk, and the plate holding two cookies and a small carrot. He picked up one of the cookies and took a large bite, rubbing his belly appreciatively, then he took the carrot and winked at the man, pointing the vegetable at the ceiling. They both heard the distinct sound of a hoof, just for a moment, coming from high above.

“Ho ho ho!” Santa laughed, then he disappeared in a rapidly fading shower of sparkles, already on his way to the next house on his naughty list.

JINX

KESTREL face a new and terrifying enemy: an all-seeing mastermind who already knows exactly who they are, and many of their deepest secrets. Nothing stays hidden forever, and the line between privacy and liberty is razor-thin…

Book 3 in the KESTREL action-thriller series.

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