Merry Scary Christmas | The Ringer | A Creepypasta by OMGitsGhastly

Original Story

Music by Myuu

There is quite a large chance of meeting some weirdos while walking through the streets of any even slightly significant city in the U.S. at night. This is especially true around or on pretty much every holiday on the calendar. Why I was out for a nighttime stroll to admire Christmas lights at 11:30 P.M. on Christmas Eve, God only knows. However the events following that night were some of the oddest I had ever experienced.

As I have already stated, I was casually strolling my way down a street in my hometown of Northfield, Ohio. Considering the location and season, it was deathly cold, a near 10 below freezing. I was in my thick winter coat and near knee-high snow boots, but I’m the type of person who has a mild resistance to cold, so I didn’t pay much mind to the freezing weather. I actually partially enjoyed it.

Aimlessly ambling around the streets of the town is actually quite whimsical, observing the amount of hard work and effort the people must have put into their decorations. The houses are truly an amazing sight, and they set quite the mood. In truth, Christmas is my favorite time of the year.

As I was on my way back to my home, I stopped abruptly to more closely perambulate an astonishing decoration setup. Apparently, whilst I was admiring the incredible work, a lone stranger had seemingly been watching me from afar. I didn’t notice the man’s presence until after I had started making my way back to my home. As a heavy gust of wind rushed in my direction, I turned around to look away from the wind so it didn’t sting my face as much as it would have. Then, I noticed him. Just standing there, still as a statue. He was about 30, maybe 40 yards away. From what I could tell, he didn’t have a coat on, just maybe a sweatshirt, and he appeared to be carrying something. His presence unnerved me slightly. What was a man without a coat on doing outside in 10° below zero, just gazing at passerby? I was just about to turn around and start traversing my way home when the stranger started to head in my direction. He appeared to have a staggering limp and it seemed that he could barely hold himself up. At least, whatever he had on him. From where I was, it looked like he was skin and bones.

As he came closer and closer, I felt the need to run. But for some reason, I just couldn’t. It’s impossible to explain why I felt compelled to stay, I just did. I just simply can’t give a reason for standing there like I did.

The stranger speedily approached me, mumbling something. The only thing I could make out was something about a burden being released and a curse, something you’d hear out of a gypsy’s mouth. He shoved the box into my arms and ran off, thanking me for whatever reason.

The box was your typical, generic, cliché Christmas present box. A small perfect cube with a lid slightly bigger than it on the top. The box itself was green, with that perfect red ribbon making a pattern on it. In simpler terms, it was something like you’d see on a movie or TV show.

The odd man had already sprinted out of sight before I could utter a thank you. I suppose he really wanted to get rid of it. But why? I saw nothing wrong with the gift. It looked perfectly normal. The contents may have been a bit suspicious (seeing as it was apparent that he and I hadn’t opened it yet). I could only assume that someone had given this to him, unopened, and he thought it was a bomb or something and freaked out. But what he was rambling on about as he handed me the gift was odd, however. I couldn’t find a logical way to piece the whole event together.

All I know is that afterwards, I speed-walked my way back to my house, considering it was quite late into the night anyway. I entered into the warmth of my home, removed my heavy winter gear, and plopped down onto my couch, box in hand. I stared at the box for at least five excruciatingly long minutes, contemplating whether or not I could gain enough courage to open the box and review its contents. What if it were a bomb or a murder weapon?

After about ten minutes of deep contemplation, I very, very slowly opened up the box to reveal…a bell. A simple, nearly insignificant bell. The thing couldn’t have been more than three inches in height. I lightly grasped it and ever so gently lifted it out of the box. It appeared to be an antique, having some wear and tear but still maintaining to hold some of its original luster. I’m not a geologist or anything, but by basic feel, I could tell that the bell was made of copper. There was a tiny inscription on the inside of the bell. It was one simple word.


The bell that the man on the street had given to me. I was made curious by the word. What could it possibly mean? Was I cursed? I shrugged it off, trudged through the hallway to my bedroom, and set the bell onto my nightstand. After about half an hour of watching TV, I shut it off and went to sleep. My dream that night was…well, there are very few proper words to describe it. Maybe sinister might be appropriate, but that probably doesn’t cover it well.

I was in my home. It seemed to be nighttime outside, and there were no lights on in my house. In other words, it was near pitch black. In the low visibility, I could barely see my hands in front of me. I’m not sure, but I think I was in my living room, sitting on the couch. It was cold, as if someone had either turned the A/C too high or left a window or door ajar. There I sat in the tense darkness, for what seemed like hours until I heard a muffled sound come from my bedroom. It was nearly inaudible, but still noticeable. It was the ringing of the bell. Soft, but there. I began to stand up and walk towards the door out of curiosity. As I took each silent step closer to the door, the sound grew and grew with closeness. My bedroom door was closed, so I had to open it via the doorknob. The ringing persisted as I grappled the doorknob and twisted it open very slowly.

As soon as I opened the door, I was shocked by what I saw…or more accurately, could see.

I couldn’t see much, considering the extreme darkness. However, I knew that something was there, in my room. I could only see a dark silhouette of a slender figure. The thing had to be at least 8 feet tall. It had the bell in its hands and was ringing it vigorously, humming a tune that I didn’t recognize. It appeared to have not noticed me as I nervously nudged the door ajar. As I crept softly into the room, the figure proceeded to ring the bell, seeming to get more and more aggressive and then quieting down after a certain period of time. This repeated the whole time I was in the room.

Not knowing what to do next, I was suddenly compelled to do something I normally wouldn’t have done. I gently raised my arm and touched its back. The only problem? I couldn’t. It was as if it were an apparition. A phantom of sorts. Endlessly sitting there, ringing the bell. My arm was sticking through its back, and protruding through the front of its body.

I jerked my arm out from inside of its transparent body. At that moment, it swiftly swiveled around to face me and proceeded to rip my guts out with long, knife-like fingers while letting out the most horrific and blood-curdling scream imaginable. It sounded like a mixture of a dying cat and metal grinding upon metal. The sound was ear-piercing, but not as bad as the pain. It felt as if I were in the dream, that the dream was a reality and I was there, getting my guts ripped out by this demented thing. He tossed my dismembered body across the room and just before I woke up, I saw one minute sparkle being held by the creature. It was the bell, nice and shiny. It appeared to be brand new.

I awoke and bolted into an awkward upright position. I was drenched in a cold sweat, and not to help it at all, the room seemed to be freezing. Sleep did not call me at all that night after the dream.

By the time the sun rose the next morning, I was still greatly unnerved by the nightmare. Why would the bell be in the dream? Am I just unnerving myself? I asked myself as I prepared breakfast that morning. The realization finally dawning upon me, I sprinted back to my bedroom to see where the bell was, and if it had been moved in the night. Surely enough, it had. It was on the floor, where I believe the creature was standing as the dream ended. It still had its dull brown copper tone, though. As I set it back on the nightstand, I swear I could slightly pick up a near-inaudible ringing of the bell, even though it wasn’t moving. I just passed it off as me being nervous over a nightmare and continued my day. The ringing persisted, and never stopped until I got into bed later that night.

When restless sleep did find me, the only dream that I can remember having was a flashback of the previous night’s events: the man giving me the box, opening the box to reveal the bell, having the nightmare, and so on and so forth. However, at one point in the dream, I got a third-person view of myself as I was sleeping, apparently sometime before the nightmare started. The view I got could be compared to a paranormal ghost hunter’s surveillance camera, but more clear. It was as if I was watching myself sleep from an angle.

I noticed something very frightening, however. In the darkness, I could just barely make out the same figure that was in my dream. It was just standing there, ringing the bell and humming the tune it was humming that night. I could barely make out its face. From what I could see, its mouth was curved into a grin of malice, with pointed and bloody teeth lining the gruesome sight. That’s really about all I could see of its face, besides a faint outline.

I awoke, yet again in a freezing sweat. Now, I knew that this wasn’t just some simple coincidence. No, this was something much more sinister.

The next day, the ringing of the bell grew a little more aggressive. I could hear it clearly this time, so I didn’t have to strain my ears to hear it. That day, I suppose I could say that it made itself known. I could have sworn that I saw the figure in reality at least five times whenever I looked into a dark room. When I did, I told myself I was going crazy and brushed it off.

That night was the worst night of my entire life.

The dream started as the first one ended. I was a dismembered corpse lying on the floor, still looking through my lifeless eyes. I had apparently lost the ability to move, as if I were a live soul trapped in a dead body. Everything was brighter and I could see more clearly. However, the air was colder and there was snow blowing through my house. The ringing, that terrible ringing, was as aggressive as ever, and I thought the thing would break if the figure rung it any more vigorously. There were words written on the walls in my blood. They covered the entire surface area of the walls.

Eventually, after lying there for around ten minutes, I regained the ability to move. My body was piecing itself back together, kind of like how a rewind on a video would look.

I was standing and able to move freely again. I took a few steps forward to investigate the writing on the walls. There was only one word on the walls, written over and over and over again.


This is when I lost it. I crumpled to the floor as the ringing of the bell grew to be deafening. I could hear vocals behind the ringing as well. They said that accursed phrase, over and over, louder and louder, in a deep, demonic voice,

“Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring.”

I screamed as loud as I could, until I couldn’t utter a sound with my voice. I began to inflict self-harm, trying to injure myself in any which way I possibly could, trying to will myself awake, so I could get away from this nightmare of bells, and the ringing.

I awoke. My neighbor called the police, and after they took me to the station, they interrogated me, asked me questions, tried to provoke a response in any way. They did not succeed.

I was moved from my home to a new place of living and the bell discarded.

I hated to move away from my old house, but I like this new place. The people are nice, and the whole community is really great. I love the walls here; they are so very, very white. Kind of reminds me of the snow.

Ring, ring.

Scary Christmas Stories | The Christmas Krampus

Have you been a naughty boy or girl? Be careful, because you know the story about Christmas coal! What? You think it isn’t true because you don’t know anyone who has ever had coal in their stocking before? Of course it is true! There is a reason why they never tell you about the coal and it isn’t a pleasant one.

The Christmas Krampus

Every year, around the Christmas Holiday, magical things always seem to happen. Some things are marvelous and joyful, like visits from Santa or a snowman coming alive. Many people say they can feel the Christmas magic in the air or around them.

Some things aren’t so joyful… Around Christmas every year, kidnappings, murder, and suicide rates go up drastically as well. Even when horrid things like this happen, people often feel, yet rarely do they admit, that they still feel a kind of Holiday magic behind it, although be it a dark magic.

One example comes from a Christmas demon known as the Krampus. The Krampus is well known in countries like Germany and Switzerland for taking naughty children in the dead of Christmas Eve night. Here is one such account:

December 6th, 2013
My name is Eli Rockford. I am currently seven years old as I write this. I confide in this journal something I can’t tell my family because they would never believe me.

I am often told that I am very smart for my age, because I say and do things that most kids my age don’t, but if I tell a strange story, no matter how hard I get them to believe me, my parents and siblings say it’s just my imagination. Today I looked out my window into the street by our house and saw a man who looked like a shadow with horns. His eyes glowed orange and seeing him scared me a lot. He was ringing a bunch of bells for something but I just tried to ignore him and sleep.

Then I heard a knock on the door. I went down to see who it was for mommy and daddy but when I got to the door, someone stuck a card through our mail slot and ran off really quickly. The card had a picture of a monster who had bull legs, a tail, and horns on a scary looking goat head that looked half-human. I was so scared that it was the thing in the street, but I don’t know what to do. I think I know what it is, but I hope I’m wrong,

I showed the card to my dad and he said it was Krampus. The bottom of the card said “Gröss von Krampus” Daddy says every year, Krampus punishes bad boys and girls on Christmas, but Santa gives good boys and girls toys. So now I’m not so scared. I always get toys on Christmas, so I must be a good kid. I still didn’t tell him about the thing on the street.

December 24th, 2013
My parents will be gone for most of tonight and Christmas morning tomorrow for some stupid work thing they both have. We usually have a Christmas at 6:00, but we have to wait for Mommy and Daddy to get home first.

Mom told Brad, my oldest brother, that we would have a babysitter because she didn’t trust him to watch all five of us by himself. Mom often let Brad watch us, but we had broke a lot of things the last couple times we were left alone, so mommy said she would get Rebecca to watch us.

Rebecca came to the house at 5, she was very pretty and Brad couldn’t stop staring at her. Mommy and Daddy left a couple minutes after Rebecca got here. This was the the first time Rebecca had watched six kids at the same time before, and I don’t think she knew what she was getting herself into. My youngest sister, Molly, who’s three, threw a tantrum after our parents left. Levi and Garret, my younger twin brothers who are both five, started fighting. Brad talked with Rebecca most of the night and Rachel spent most the night in her room. Mom and Dad said that we would still get Christmas gifts tomorrow, but we had to wait to open them until they got home. We made hot cocoa, but the cocoa maker is broke so the hot chocolate burned our mouths, and we all got candy canes too!

Rebecca started to put us to bed at 8 and finally succeeded at 9:30. Even though she was clearly exhausted and frustrated with us, she told us she had fun and that she wouldn’t have spent Christmas Eve any other way…

I awoke in the middle of the night at about 11 to see a crimson moon casting a dim, red glow on the winter snow. I looked out my bedroom window and saw a red object coming towards our house, fast. It was hard to make out, but it looked like a red sleigh being pulled by reindeer. I instantly recognized this as Santa’s sleigh and ran to hide on the stairs and waited for him to come down the chimney anxiously.

Out of the window to the right of our fireplace I saw the sleigh fly overhead and heard many hooves trotting on the roof. I made sure to remain perfectly still and silent as a mouse. I waited for what felt like an eternity while soft foot steps echoed on the roof above me, getting closer to the chimney. I heard scuffling as ash and dust started falling from the fireplace. Soon, two black boots landed, then the rest of jolly old St. Nick came through the fireplace with a bag of toys on his back. Without speaking a word, he went straight to our tree, he took gifts from his bag and scattered them under our lit-up, plastic evergreen then started on the milk and cookies we left for him. I felt that I had held my breath the entire time I was hiding on the stares.

I couldn’t believe I was spying on the real Santa Claus in my own home! Eventually, he made his way over to our stockings and started putting various knick-knacks and candies in our stockings starting with Molly. When he got to Levi, he took out a small, black rock and eyed it sadly before placing it in Levi’s stocking. It took me a second to realize that he gave Levi coal. I tried to stifle a laugh to the best of my abilities but a small squeak escaped my lips anyways. Santa turned around and scanned the room. I remained as still as ever. He turned back to the stockings, this time keeping his back to me, and put a piece of coal in Garrett’s stocking too. He put a candy cane in Brad’s stocking, along with a pocket knife. Rachel got a new phone and some kit-kats. Finally he moved to my stocking, which is always furthest to the right, even though I’m the middle child. He began rummaging through his sack as I leaned forward excitedly to see what presents I was getting.

Santa pulled out a large jet black piece of coal and stuffed it into my stocking. I felt a wave of anger, sadness, and regret all at once. I almost stood up right then to tell off the jolly old elf, but when he turned around I saw tears in his eyes. He looked as if he was filled with similar emotions as I was, like he didn’t like to have to give bad kids coal. It was for this reason, that I remained quiet as Santa climbed back up my chimney, got into his sleigh, and flew away. I watched out my downstairs window as the sleigh flew from the roof and into the black abyss of Christmas night.

I sat there, still in place for a very long time, pondering how I could be a better child next year when I spotted something out of the window again. It looked like the same figure I’d seen before, but this time, the sleigh looked as if it was black. I wrote this off as it was really dark outside, except for the moon’s red glow. I wondered why Santa would come back. Maybe he forgot something. Maybe he made a mistake. Maybe, I wasn’t naughty and he was on his way back right now to fix his mistake! My mind was racing from one thought to another as I began to hype myself up for all my possible Christmas presents. I’d stopped watching the window and had begun to daydream about the next morning, until hooves on the roof interrupted my thoughts. I heard loud, heavy clacking this time as he got closer to the chimney.

Ash began to fall down the chimney, creating an ashy cloud around the fireplace as what I assumed to be Santa began coming down and landed with a loud clash. My final thought before seeing what came next was “How has no one noticed all of this?” Through the cloud of thick, black ash protruded two large horns with stripes of red and white like those of a candy cane’s. As the dust settled, the rest of the figure was revealed.

His skin was a pale, icy looking blue. His beard was like Santa’s, except it was black and came to a point. His nose was long, and his face looked grizzled, but more human then I thought. His horns looked like they’d touch the ceiling if he jumped. His body looked human in shape, but animal in appearance. His legs were twisted and ended in hooves, like that of a cow/bull. He had a long tail. His torso was contorted and everything but his face and palms was covered in fur. He had broken chains around his wrists and what looked like a heavy, red Christmas ornament attached to his tail by another chain. His ears were pointed, and so were his yellow teeth. Despite his horrid, outlandish appearance, the most noticeable things about the creature were it’s bells that it wore, and the basket on it’s back that had the limp arm of a child hanging from it. The stories were true, and so is Krampus.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I had seen sleighs go by, magic reindeer fly overhead, and had even seen Santa Claus himself, but none of that could have prepared me for the beast that is Krampus.

He moved around the room with such speed that I was caught off guard. This thing looked about 8 feet tall without it’s horns, and with them he towered over everything in our large home. He made his way to the fireplace and took the coal from Levi’s stocking. He rolled it around in his long, bony fingers for a moment, then took the coal from Garrett’s stocking, then finally mine. He studied the coal for a moment. A wide smile full of pointy, yellow teeth beamed across his face. “Naughty little children.” I heard it say in a cold, raspy voice. A shiver ran up my spine as he, it, spoke.

I was paralyzed in both fear and aw at the creature that roamed my living room beneath me. I thought he was moving towards the tree, but it walked passed it and started going down the hallway into… Into Levi and Garrett’s room. I remembered the things my father used to say about it, that he whips bad kids, takes them away, sometimes he eats them, sometimes he shakes them and scares them into being good. All these horrid thoughts and more danced through my head as the monster creeped into the twins’ room.

I tried to scream with all my might but no sound would escape my mouth. As I finally was able to choke out “Levi! Garrett!” Screams had already filled their room. Levi came running out of his room screaming his head off as Garrett followed suit. The creature’s long, twisted arm reached out from the room and grabbed Garrett’s leg, pulling him back into the room. I stood up from my spot on the stairs and motioned for Levi to come to me.

Garrett’s screams fell silent. The Krampus emerged from the room alone, his nose seemed shorter now, his face even more deformed now. I gripped Levi’s hand tightly and we ran for Brad’s room. I wailed on his door again and again, but he wouldn’t come out. I would have tried harder to get his attention, but I could hear it coming up the stairs as each hoof hit each step. I took Levi to the the laundry room and told him to hide in the laundry shoot. Once he was inside I began lowering the laundry hamper so he could get downstairs without confronting the monster. Before he was lowered out of sight, I told Levi to go start the hot cocoa maker, because I had a plan. He nodded, and once he got to the bottom, I felt the hamper get lighter as he climbed out. I heard the hooved foot steps getting louder and closer to the laundry room. I began pulling the laundry hamper up and climbed in just as the door was violently flung open, despite the locks on it.

The beast licked his lips with his long, skinny tongue as he slowly approached my trembling body inside the hamper. I began to bounce myself and rock the hamper as Krampus got closer and closer. The hamper wouldn’t fall no matter how hard I rocked it, and the creature was nearly upon me. I felt it’s breath on me as it excitedly panted, getting further. I expected it’s breath to be hot like that of a dog’s, but instead it felt like the coldest winter chill caressing my skin.

I shook the whole hamper as savagely as I could before it finally budged. The hamper fell and before I knew it I was on the first floor. I crawled out of the shoot and ran to the kitchen as the demon rampaged upstairs. As I came into the kitchen, I noticed no signs of my little brother, but I did see that the hot cocoa maker was on. The stomping of the creature upstairs continued but didn’t seem to be near the stairs so I focused on finding Levi. He wasn’t hiding in any cabinets, and he wasn’t anywhere in the living room. I decided that he might be in his room, so I quietly creeped to it slowly, but steadily. The twins’ room was trashed entirely, and Levi wasn’t there. There was blood on the wall. I shudder to think that it once belonged to my baby brother. A small, bloody hand print was smeared on the wall by the door. Dread was all that I could feel in that moment. Dread for misbehaving all year. Dread for what had become of my little brother. And dread for the silence that fell in place of hooves stomping around upstairs.

I quickly and silently made my way back to the kitchen and took out a large coffee pitcher of scolding hot cocoa. As I kept out of the kitchen into the living room, I had a ominous feeling of dread as if I were being watched. I could barely see in the dark of the night and I couldn’t locate our light switches, the only source of light I had was the dim, eerie glow of the lights from the Christmas tree. As I scanned all entrances to the dining room, something moving caught my eye. The chandelier had began to start swinging as if something had bumped it or hit it. There was soft thudding that accompanied the squeaking of the rocking corona. As I looked around to make out another vague shape in the glow Christmas lights, I saw what bumped the chandelier.

The monster was crawling on my ceiling like a large, twisted spider. His arms were bent in excruciating looking ways to grip the ceiling and watch me with his eyes that burn like fire. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs at the very sight of it, but instead I held my ground. A cruel smile spread across the face of the predator who was stalking me. He undug his fingers from the ceiling and landed on the floor in front of me with a thunderous crash, mere inches away from me. This was his mistake.

I threw the entire pitcher of burning hot cocoa on his face and the beast immediately started writhing in agony. He covered his hands over his quickly blistering face. He took his hands off of his face just as it began to melt and peal off, the bits of flesh and blood melting away to reveal his horrible skull with it’s eyes still in their sockets. It froze for a while, and for a brief moment, I was happily assured and content that the Krampus was dead. But then it only started cackling an awful and disturbingly malevolent laugh. It pierced my ears like knives and over loomed over me to instill as much fear as it could.

It was working. Before my very eyes the muscles around the creatures skull started to grow back and in seconds it’s new face had formed. It looked more like a goat with pointy teeth than a human, but you could still partially see it in there. It’s beard was still as long as before, but now it looked almost out of place on the demonic beast’s head. I turned and ran behind the Christmas tree, avoiding the abomination’s lanky arms as I ran by.

The Krampus immediately started coming towards the tree intent on harming me. I push the large plastic evergreen on the monster and ran back upstairs to find my little brother. I wailed on my other siblings’ doors, but no one would wake up no matter how hard I pounded on their doors. Everyone locks the doors to their rooms when we go to sleep so we’re not bothered, but the doors are also heavy and not much sound get through them. I began to shout for Levi as loud as I could hoping he’d respond.

Then Levi appeared at the top of the stares. We stared at each other, he looked terrified and sad. I started to walk towards him, when suddenly my baby brother was impaled by the Krampus’s horns. His body was thrusted up and thrashed around by the savage creature as he convulsed and shook spastically on it’s horns. I’ve seen people die on T.V. before, but watching it in real life is entirely different, no one should have to go through it. My brother didn’t deserve that, no one deserves that. Santa and Christmas are about love and cheer. Krampus made Christmas about hatred and retribution. I watched helplessly while the thing ripped my brother’s shaking body from it’s horns, and dropped his lifeless body into the basket on his back.

The demon began to strut towards me with malicious intentions, so I ducked into mom and dad’s empty room and opened the top right drawer in my dad’s dresser. I wasn’t tall enough to see what I was reaching for, but when I felt it, I pulled out my dad’s pistol. I opened the other dresser, and had put two bullets in the pistol by the time the creature burst open the door. I shot it twice and hit it both times, but it was unfazed by the bullets. The loud noise clearly hurt both our ears, and as the monster clawed at it’s ears while screaming in pain, I began to quickly crawl towards the window until something long, thin, tight, and slimy gripped my right leg and began pulling me back. I looked behind me to my terror to see the Krampus was using it’s incredibly long tongue to pull me to it’s mouth full of sharp, jagged teeth.

I began to breath in and out quicker and quicker, and began panicking as my foot got closer to it’s mouth. I lifted my left leg and kicked it in the face twice before it’s tongue finally loosened. Before I could breath Krampus picked me up and began shaking me wildly. I kicked him a second time, this time with my right foot, and he flung me into the hallway where I began limping away.

I had reached the end of the hallway when I heard a loud popping crack sound, moments before feeling a sharp sting all across my back. I looked back and saw that the holiday devil had whipped me with a whip like a lion tamer would use. I felt the warm ooze onto my back as new pain started setting in. I started to limp away to safety when I was picked up by Krampus again. His long, cold fingers wrapped around my back and stung my cut even worse. He looked at me, right in the eye, before lifting me behind him and dropping me into the birch basket on his back.

On the outside of the basket, it looks like it could only fit a couple kids inside, but the inside was massive. I fell into a mountain of bodies. There were hundreds or thousands of kids in that one basket, piled on each other, not all alive. Where you couldn’t see other kids which made up the trembling ground, you saw only darkness. No sounds could be heard from inside, or outside really, either. Kids would scream, mutter, shout until their throats clearly hurt, but no sounds came from their mouths. Every time I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, it got way worse. I waited what felt like millennia to escape, as new kids would fall in and join the confusion to show how much time passed.

Eventually, the Krampus reached into the basket and began to pull out another child. His arm became larger as he reached in the basket and stretched out to a panicked girl. I grabbed onto her leg, and let myself be carried to salvation. When we were pulled from the basket, I let go of the kid and fell behind Krampus. He didn’t notice I escaped, he was to focused on the girl. He looked at the small girl for a second before biting into her flesh with his large sharp, teeth. I never knew the kid’s name before the creature devoured her, but I owe her my life for helping me escape. I backed away slowly from behind as Krampus feasted on my fellow child at it’s dinner table. I had no idea where I was now, but it was dark and it was cold. I think it’s where the creature lives. After the monster was finished eating, he picked up a small wooden box, opened the top, and spat something that glowed a bright green into it. He then took the box over to a rusted doofus that he opened, entered, than left a few minutes later without the box. He then left the room, leaving the child’s remains on a large platter and a rusty door to my curiosity.

I opened the door to see dozens of more wooden boxes. I also saw many creepy looking porcelain dolls and other creepy toys. The door behind me closed and I was emerged in total darkness. I got out my phone and used it to barely light my way. I walked past a jack in the box with a scary face, I walked past a baby doll that looked withered and old. I found a sac doll that looked like a creepy rotting skeleton too. I thought it was like Santa’s rejected toy shop until I found the word “MISFITS” smeared in red paint next to a clown with a skull for a head, blue eyes in it’s sockets and big fleshy hands. I was terrified someone else was caught in that room before. When I got closer to the clown, it jumped towards me and yelled “Wanna play?” I got really scared and jumped back as the clown let out a scary laugh.
I heard scurrying and tiny footsteps of other toys from all around. I started catching the dolls and ginger bread men turning their heads as I ran along the walls trying to relocate the door. I found another message on the wall: “Why can’t we die?” was scratched into the wall by something. I wanted nothing more than for this night to end.

When I located the door, I bolted for it as soon as I saw it, but was tripped by a toy soldier with realistic burns on half of his face. I kicked the tiny hunk of plastic away and moved closer to the door when a deformed baby doll bit appeared from the darkness and sank her teeth into my leg. I felt a surge of pain and fell to the ground. I furiously punched the doll’s head repeatedly until it unlocked it’s tiny teeth from my flesh. The porcelain atrocity scurried off as other terrible toys danced around me in the darkness. More and more of them kept popping up and coming out of…. Out of the boxes like the one Krampus spat the glowing thing into. The the toys began muttering words, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. The muttering got louder and louder until I understood some of their words. “Feel our pain.” “He killed us, but not entirely” “He gobbled me up and spat my soul into a puppet.” “Kill us.” “Let us die”

The things they said were terribly dreadful to say the least. I got up and started to make my way to the door as the dolls chanted more obscene things yo me. “We’re gonna eat you alive like he ate us!” “I’m gonna rip out your eyes!” Although they continued to chant none of them came towards me again as I moved around the dark room. I saw a small toy skeleton in Santa’s clothes with a beard move by. A puppet with many nails sticking out of it’s wooden head was strung up to the ceiling, moving and wresting with its strings.

I spotted a stool that was pulled up to a work bench with tools and a teddy bear on it. The teddy bear had real bear claws sticking from his paws and real human teeth in its mouth. I reasoned that this was Krampus’s demented toy shop and decided to leave before it was to late. I walked past the bench to the door, and started pulling on the rusty metal handle. The door was extremely heavy, but slowly budged and started opening as I pulled back with all my might. Light began to bathe the room and the misfit toys dashed to the shadows to avoid the light. I ran from the dark room, closed the door behind me, and leaned on it for a while to catch my bearings. I looked around at the only other room in this place that was familiar to me. I went by the long table the monster ate the nameless girl at, trying not to think about it. Trying to think of something, anything to distract me from the horrors I have bared witness to on the most unsuspecting and happiest time of year.

I walked to an open door and poked only half my head out to scan the perimeter of the room. It lead to a large room that had various whips, saws, and various other torture devices. I kept in and kept to the wall. I spotted three dark wooden doors amongst the darkness and concrete walls. I also found a window, and the snow outside was falling so slowly. So peacefully. Two doors were on one large wall, opposite of the window, and the other was on the wall to the right of the window. I first tried on one of the doors on the long wall, but had decided beforehand to go to the door right of the window thinking it would lead me closer to a door out or something. The walls were lined with racks, and racks were lined with hellish masks. Some had horns, some had long serpent tongues sticking out, some had teeth, some had patches of skin, some had antlers, one was a wired skull with antlers and the antlers had lit candles on them. It was so strange. The room was so large, the other door led to the same room. I left with out moving the door in fear that closing the heavy door would create noise and would lead the creature to me.

I walked along side the wall to avoid the equipment, straight to the only door I had left. I opened the door slowly and with caution. The first thing in the room I noticed was a strange tree, that looked like an upside down, purple Christmas tree. The trunk in was on the bottom, but the pines and branches looked upside down. The tree was decorated with red and green lights, and… Small bones.

There was another window in this room, but it was on the same side as the last. There was an open doorway that led to a hallway that T’d off and two signs labeled the directions. The right one said “Surveillance Room” and the left one said “Stables.” I went to the stables thinking I might be able to find a reindeer to fly out of that place with. It seems like a silly plan now in hindsight. I opened the stable door and awful smells invaded my nostrils immediately. There was frost on the floor as well.

There were 8 stables lined up along the wall to the right, each with demonic reindeer heads sticking out. Below each head was the doors to each stall, each with pendants of names on them. I read the names out loud as I started down the row. Each deer was grotesque in their own right. One or two had exposed skulls. Each had jagged teeth, some had manes and others had dried blood on their fur. Seven of their eyes glowed red. “Slasher…” I said as I passed the first one. “Wrathful… Gorgon… Putrid… Cyclops…” Cyclops was missing one fiery eye. “Rabies… Goner…” The last monstrous reindeer looked like a hellish Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. His head held flames that danced from its gnarled snout to the back of its mane. Between its sharpened, bloody antlers furiously flickered bolts of electricity.


I decided riding one was out of the question and began searching for an exit. I realized the only door to the room was the one I came from. I looked all over the room looking for some other way out and saw the reason for the cold. The top crease and upper part of one wall was missing and led outside. It was far too high to reach. I left the stable room and went into the surveillance room. The handle felt icy cold as I slowly opened the door. The room like all the rest, was large. One wall was covered with monitors. The bottom, middle monitor stuck out more than the rest and had a keyboard below it. A chair was also pulled up to it. Each screen had various kids on it, some in dreadful conditions, others minding their own business. No sound came from the monitors, but I started to notice I was hearing a ticking noise. A clock above the door I came in read “5:45” Christmas Day didn’t start at my house until six o’clock. The wall opposite of the monitors had many names scratched into it. I wondered if the dead girl’s name was scratched into the wall.

A door that read “EXIT” was to the right of the monitors, but the computer said “Search Name.”

I sat in the large chair and typed in “Garret Rockford.” A nutcracker that had two bodies attached from the sides of it’s head popped up. Each body seemed to be trying to yank away from the other. Its face looked like it was in pain, and it had the same color of eyes as Levi…. And Garrett.

I looked up “Levi Rockford” and the same thing popped up. I sat frozen in aw for a moment. Tears filled my eyes and ran down my cheeks. The ticking of the clock seemed to turn into clopping as I sobbed. I was crying more than I ever cried before. I cried so hard I’d began hearing a ringing. Than the chair I was in was spun around and I was face to face with Krampus.

He looked menacing and insidiously sinister. His horns were partly covered in blood, his long fingers looked sharp, and his eyes burned like never before. He waved his long, sharp, bony finger at me and tsk’d. “Naughty, naughty.” He said cruelly and mockingly. He licked my face with his incredibly long tongue, than began to wrap it around my throat. He started constricting his tongue and choked me. I was gurgling and coughing and struggling did close to nothing. I started feeling weaker and weaker as my head heated up my lungs screamed for air. My vision even started to become blurred. Then I knew if I didn’t do something quickly, I was going to die.

I punched him in the face with all my might and knocked him back for only a brief moment as his tongue recoiled into his mouth, I utilized my time and ran toward the exit. I felt the ground shake directly behind me as heavy hooves shook the floor violently in their wake. I felt the creature’s cool breath on the back of my neck. I pushed the door open and ran into the freezing cold as my pursuer followed suit. I ran until I was knee deep in snow, until a lanky hand gripped me and started dragging me back. The dark sky slowly lit as the sun started to emerge from the bottom horizon.

The Krampus stopped dragging me. He dropped me and stared briefly at the rising sun. “I’ll come get you again.” He said as he dropped my leg and retreated to his lair as I lay in the snow. A silhouetted figure came from a distance. I closed my eyes for what felt like seconds, but when I opened my eyes, the sun was higher in the sky, and the figure was closer. I could make out that he was wearing red, than I passed out again.

I opened my eyes to see an outstretched hand with a black mitten on it. It belonged to A fat, bearded man with a silly hat. “S-Santa?” I inquired.

“Ssshhh, child,” he said in a soft soothing voice. “let’s take you home.”

The next thing I remember was waking up in my bed at home. Levi and Garret were “kidnapped” in the middle of the night, I found out from Rebecca, Brad, and Molly who already told our parents and the cops. I tried to tell them what really happened but no one believed me, they only got mad when I tried to explain it to them. So I gave up on trying to tell them. That’s how I spent MY Christmas.

Original Story

Music by Myuu

Scary Christmas Stories | A Christmas Feast by Michael Whitehouse

He didn’t realize the he was not just the special guest, but he was the main course for Christmas dinner!

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Original Story by Michael Whitehouse

A Christmas Feast

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I love telling scary stories on YouTube. Many are adlib, some are prewritten. Many are my own creation while some are in the public domain or I have written permission by the author. I will always give credit to the original author if it is not my story.

PLEASE only send me the story if you own the rights to the story or it is in the public domain such as original campfire stories, legends, etc but nothing that is written by someone other than you.

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Scary Christmas Stories | Santa Claws

For most children, Christmas is a celebration worth looking forward to. For thirteen-year-old Evan, it was something to fear.
Evan still remembered his seventh Christmas Eve clearly, an evening that he, like most children, had been looking forward to for a long time. The next morning he would get up early and open all his presents, eager to see what surprises Santa had left him. Evan imagined the restless night ahead and thought, if he listened hard, he might be able to hear Santa come down the chimney.

But this Christmas Eve didn’t all go to plan. It wasn’t long before Evan’s excitement gave away to horror.

Mum had insisted that Santa wouldn’t come if Evan stayed up late, and she had just began sending him off to bed when Evan was distracted by a loud, muffled thump on the roof. It seemed to be coming directly above the fireplace. It was like in the Night Before Christmas – “there arose such a clatter”, and Evan approached the chimney to see what was the matter. Was it now that Santa had decided to make an appearance?

Ash was falling from the nooks and crannies of the chimney to the bottom of the fireplace, sending out charcoal smoke and a burnt smell. Something, someone, had to be disturbing the ash. Evan was alone. Who else went down the chimney at this time on Christmas Eve?

The chimney rattled, and a deep, rolling voice hit the air. Santa’s famous “ho, ho, ho!” echoed down the chimney as Evan watched in delight.

Things were silent for a moment. Evan’s mother stood behind him, watching. Then arose the biggest clatter yet.

There was an explosion of greyish smoke as mountains of ash fell to the bottom of the fireplace. The fireplace shook as if there was a sudden earthquake. Then, amidst the greyness, there was a flash of red, and a tremendous thump.

Had Santa made it?

Evan rushed forward, unable to stop himself. He felt a flare of excitement, but Mum was first to the chimney. Evan tried to remember the last time his mother had expressed excitement, and couldn’t.

Then the smoke cleared, and the fallen Santa came into view. He didn’t have quite the belly Evan had expected, but this was the least of his observations. Evan gasped as he saw that Santa’s beard had appeared to slide off during his fall. But there was no blood – the only blood came from Santa’s head, and it was just a trickle. The bad thing was that the trickle of blood was coming from what looked like a big dent in Santa’s head.

Evan frowned. Santa couldn’t die – he was too good for that! He couldn’t die, not now. So had somebody played a trick on him?

Evan glanced at the beard that had appeared to slide down Santa’s face. Beards didn’t move like that, at least not without there being blood. So then if it wasn’t a real beard, it had to be a fake one. But if that was a fake beard, then Santa’s suit was also a fake suit. This wasn’t the real Santa – this was Santa in disguise! Evan glanced once more at the fake Santa’s exposed features, trying to figure out who this person could be, and made sense of the face that seemed so familiar to him. He realized, for the first time, that Mum had never been excited. Instead, she had rushed to the fake Santa’s body in grief. Sobs racked her body, her tears dripping on the fake Santa’s suit.

Evan stood, dumbfounded, and choked out one word.


Evan woke up in a cold sweat, bolting upright into a sitting position. He glanced at his watch and read the time. 2:19 a.m. Before the light on his watch went off, he read the date. December 20. Only five more days until Christmas. Once upon a time, Evan would have been happy about this, but now he wished that Christmas never came. It was the same dream again, accurate in every detail. That evening was exactly how it had been in the dream. It never ceased to amaze Evan how vivid these dreams were. They got right down to the core and forced Evan to relive the worst moment in his life. Those goddamn nightmares! They got worse around Christmas. He would dream of that fateful evening his father slipped and fell down the chimney, smashing his skull in on the way down, or he would dream of those claws, those razor-sharp strips of polished bone, weapons that could slice through him like butter if they gave so much as a flick.

Most kids grew out of their belief in Santa, came to accept that Santa was just another myth made up to make children happy, but Evan hadn’t grown out of it. He had been jolted out of it, his belief shattered with the tragic death of his father. Evan’s father had only been trying to surprise Evan, but he had done much more than that. He had bent Evan beyond repair. And every Christmas, Santa Claws would haunt Evan.

Evan was convinced Santa Claws was some kind of demon in humanoid form. He was definitely not human – he was a supernatural entity of sorts, but Evan had always thought of him as a demon. Santa Claws had been in Evan’s life ever since his father died, and though he was mostly absent during the year, he would come back around November, maybe late October. When it became nearer to Christmas… well, he would become more persistent then. There were the nightmares, for one thing, and the visions, and Evan had no shortage of seizures around Christmas time, when Santa Claws was at his worst. Sometimes Evan had panic attacks that seemed to come from nowhere, and there was no doubt who had caused them. Evan was no stranger to bullying at school because of his seizures and his strong dislike for Christmas. Santa Claws had taken its toll on Evan.

Evan knew that Santa Claws had, in some way, been triggered by his father’s death. Sometimes Evan believed that Santa Claws was actually his father’s ghost, turned evil in the existence of the afterlife. Evan wasn’t one to believe in the supernatural, but Santa Claws had changed his mind about a lot of things.

After a while, Evan had been forced to accept that Santa Claws was always going to come back. Even if Evan grew out of his own personal dislike for Christmas, he would never have a joyful Christmas again.

It was Christmas that had caused his father’s death. It was Christmas that had caused Santa Claws to come.

Evan’s head flopped back on his pillow. School had finished weeks before, but Evan was still dreading the next day, and every day to come until Christmas. What Evan was looking forward to was the absence of Santa Claws. Santa Claws would hang around for a bit after Christmas, then he’d slowly fade away, and Evan would be free of his presence between February and November. Then he could forget about Christmas, pretend it never existed. But no matter what, Santa Claws would always come back… and Evan was sure he would never be free of his demonic existence again.

Evan woke early and rolled out of bed, opening his laptop without bothering to draw the curtains or turn on the light. He wanted to go online, check his Facebook, play some games, do anything to take his mind of Christmas and, more importantly, Santa Claws.

It was an hour or two before Evan sat down to a lazy breakfast of cornflakes, by which time Evan’s mother had gotten out of bed. Mum had shut herself out from society a while after she unexpectedly became a widow, developing a strong case of depression. Eventually she had come to terms with her husband’s death and became a more loving mother to Evan than ever, but she still had her bad days. Sometimes Evan wondered whether Santa Claws was in her mind, too. They both supported each other a lot, but Evan couldn’t help but feel that the house was lonely every once in a while. Evan had told his mum about Santa Claws for the first few years after his father’s death, but then he had decided to pretend he had outgrown it. He didn’t want to put extra weight on Mum’s shoulders, and the last thing he wanted to do was to make it seem like he was a child.

But Evan couldn’t hide the seizures. He couldn’t hide the fact that he was sometimes absorbed in a hallucination, often concerning Santa Claws. Evan’s Mum seemed to blame it on the trauma he had received after his father’s death – sure, maybe not all kids would experience that type of trauma, but everyone’s different, aren’t they? Evan said good morning to Mum and continued to eat his cornflakes. The fireplace was directly to his right, and Evan thought he could catch a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye. His head turned. Nothing.

Paranoia. Or maybe Santa Claws was playing tricks on him. Either way, Evan didn’t fancy seeing Santa Claws in the flesh. He had seen him already – five times to be exact – and would see him a sixth time, for every Christmas Eve at 8:13 p.m., the exact time his father had fallen, he appeared in the fireplace. And Evan was always there to watch him make an appearance.

It was then that Evan decided that this year, he was going to be prepared. It would be no different to any other year; Santa Claws would appear in the fireplace at exactly the same time as he had the year before, and the year before that, and the year before that year. Mum was never around – she always went to bed early on Christmas Eve, or stayed in bed the entire day. This time Evan wouldn’t just be watching Santa Claws – he’d destroy Santa Claws once and for all. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

That day, Evan confined himself to the safety of his home or, more specifically, his bedroom. He distracted himself with computer games and other activities, while all the time planning how he was going to get rid of Santa Claws when he made an appearance.

Before his father died, he’d had a hunting rifle that hung on a hook in the wall. After his death, it had been hidden away inside his wardrobe which was, of course, in the bedroom Mum slept in. A gun was Evan’s closest shot, and it was the only thing he could think of that might kill Santa Claws. What else was he supposed to do? Shout a few defiant words and attack Santa Claws with his bare hands?

His dead father’s old hunting rifle was the only gun possible for Evan to obtain. The only problem was getting it out of the wardrobe without his mother catching him, and she was sure to get suspicious if she saw him taking a gun out of the wardrobe. This proved to be an easier task than Evan thought, however. When Mum went out to do some shopping, Evan went straight to the wardrobe doors and started burrowing through the clothes. It was then that he experienced the seizure.

Evan had just caught sight of the gun when a sudden jolt ran through his body. His muscles were paralyzed, his joints frozen in place. Evan was unable to do anything but stare helplessly as he fell backwards onto the wooden floor. Electricity ran through his body, which was now twitching madly on the floor. Shadows danced in front of his eyes as the visions began. He saw his father, now an ash-covered skeleton wearing a Santa Hat, leering down at him through empty eye sockets. He saw a Christmas Tree decorated with bloodied limbs, organs and what looked like unravelled intestines. He saw claws curling in front of his eyes, claws that would cut him in two if he did so much as blink…

Evan came to just as he heard the car pulling into the driveway. Frantically, his eyes darted around, searching for the hunting rifle. Something thin and black poking out from a pile of clothes caught his eye. The rifle! He snatched it up and bolted towards his room, not remembering to close the wardrobe door. He had just reached his bedroom when Mum opened the front door.

It wasn’t until his mother called out to him an hour or so later, “Evan, have you been through my wardrobe?” that Evan remembered he had neglected to close the wardrobe door.

“Uhh… yeah,” Evan replied, thinking quickly. “I was looking for a jacket. You know, since all my other ones are too small. It’s pretty cold, with the snow and all.” Evan was proud his voice didn’t so much as quiver. Because of this, Mum didn’t pursue the subject any longer.

In that one day, Evan experienced the seizure inside the wardrobe, frequent flashes of movement out of the corner of his eye, and a brief hallucination. Usually it was worse around this time, but Evan had it lucky. The nightmares didn’t improve that night.

The next day, Evan realized he had no bullets for the rifle. He had forgotten to find some in his panic to get out of the room before his mother saw. Mum didn’t go out that day, but Evan decided to have a look through the wardrobe anyway, and if she asked, he’d make up the same lie as yesterday.

After some serious rummaging, he found three stray bullets hidden in a corner of the wardrobe in a plastic casing. This time, he didn’t forget to close the wardrobe door. He put the bullets in his pocket in case Mum should enter the hallway, but she didn’t. The plan was looking successful.

That day, Santa Claws talked to Evan. The words were spoken inside Evan’s head, but Evan knew well who they belonged to. Evan found he couldn’t remember most of the speech afterwards, but knew it had something to do with Evan’s plan to kill Santa Claws. Of course – Santa Claws could get inside Evan’s head, so why shouldn’t he be able to read Evan’s thoughts? This was what he had done.

Still, Evan wasn’t prepared to give up so quickly. That day, he might have seen a lot of things that weren’t there, but Evan kept his thoughts on that loaded rifle.

On the 22nd of December, Evan not only heard Santa Claws and experienced his visions, but also felt Santa Claws on his own flesh. At one point it felt like a cat was running its claws across his arm, but no-one was there. Still, that didn’t stop blood from flowing. When Mum asked him what had happened to his arm, he said that Stormo had scratched him. (Evan had an old tabby cat called Stormo, and was no stranger to his scratches.)

Mum didn’t notice the seizures and hallucinations, simply because Evan confined himself to his room all day. It was a pitiful existence, but Evan knew he had to do it to avoid suspicion. Mum blamed it on what had happened with his father, relating it to past trauma and, as a consequence, feeling the need to shut himself away from what the experience had been related to – Christmas. Evan didn’t have any problems with this.

The 23rd passed quickly, but the 24th was the worst day he had experienced so far. He spent much of his time being tormented by the demonic presence of Santa Claws, his frightening messages ringing in his ears. Once, Mum walked in the room while he was having a seizure on his bed, but was able to avoid suspicion by saying he was in the middle of a nightmare.

Time dragged on, as Evan became more and more tormented. Evan’s mother went to bed early, as she normally did on Christmas Eve. This left Evan two more hours until Santa Claws made an appearance.

Every past year, Evan had been at the fireplace at 8:13, but this was because Santa Claws had willed him to be there. He had felt his legs move and had been unable to stop them. Santa Claws wanted Evan to be there to see him in the flesh. This was why Evan made sure he had the rifle clutched tightly in his hands before the time came. Evan glanced at his watch nervously. No, he was past nervous – he was terrified. 8:13 came, and nothing happened. But at the 20-second mark, he felt his legs moving down the hallway towards the lounge.

His hands opened the lounge door. He approached the fireplace. The curtains were drawn, the lights were out. It was dark, and Evan could see nothing save the silhouette of Santa Claws in the fireplace.

Evan could see the outline of a Santa Hat on his head, and was no stranger to the claws that hung at the shadow’s side. Evan felt the presence of Santa Claws, knew that Santa Claws would soon be illuminated by a ghostly light and Evan would be able to see him in the flesh. Then he would raise the gun, pull the trigger and it would be over.

Or so he hoped.

Evan stood there for what seemed like forever, then the empty, bleeding eye sockets came into view… that white, almost transparent skin… the sharp, bloodied set of teeth that showed from behind slimy lips… the tattered Santa suit smeared with the blood of innocent victims… and worst of all, the long, knife-sharp set of claws that hung at each side.

Evan was terrified. He stood paralyzed with fear as Santa Claws grinned and raised his hands towards him… Evan was unable to move, unable to do anything but watch as the claws came closer and closer to reaching him. It was too late to shoot now. It was all over.

But as Evan stood frozen, his muscles stiffened, and his finger tightened around the trigger. There was a terrific bang and a blinding flash of light.

Then world faded to black.

Evan woke to Mum shaking him frantically. He blinked, trying to figure out what had happened. Then he remembered. He had killed Santa Claws.

Mum said she had heard a bang and had come in to see what the noise was. When she saw that Evan was holding the hunting rifle, her first thought was that Evan had shot himself, but she had seen that there was no noticeable bullet wound and Evan was clearly still breathing.

Evan was exhausted but too happy to comment. His face broke into a smile. “I did it,” he whispered.

Mum looked concerned. “You’re not well, Evan. You’re going to a doctor as soon as possible. I worry about you.”

“I killed Santa Claws,” Evan babbled, oblivious to his mother’s concerns. He was overcome with the joy that Santa Claws would no longer be in his life.

“I’m not just worried about you, Evan. I’m also quite angry with you,” Mum said, his eyebrows knitting into a scowl. “Somehow, you vandalized the fireplace. It looks like something out of a horror movie.”

Evan frowned. “I never vandalized the fireplace.”

Mum sighed. “Then how do you explain that?” she said, pointing.

Evan twisted his head around to face the fireplace. Solid crimson letters had been written on the brick wall behind the fireplace. The paint looked fresh, and Evan could see it still trickling down the wall. But not paint, Evan realized, but blood:


Original Story
Music by Myuu

Aren’t scary Christmas stories fun? I have more coming next week!

Scary Christmas Stories | Occupied Chimney by Doom Vroom

A little girl, so excited for Christmas, realizes that not everything coming down a chimney is Santa Claus

Original Story

Music by Myuu

Audrey’s bedroom was only accessible from the living room, which was likewise the case for Johnnie’s. The sound of footfalls on the roof came to an abrupt end, and upon her entering the living room, loud, repetitive thuds against the bricks in the chimney took their place. Nearly all sense of urgency left the woman as she realized that someone was stuck in her chimney. Were there any observers of this incident, they might be inclined to think of Audrey as foolish. However, most chimneys slant and slope various times, a design which carried over to this particular chimney and that the cabin owner had knowledge of……..Listen for more!

The Christmas Tree – By Michael Whitehouse

No one ever thinks about what happens when you cut down a Christmas tree. There could be a nest of birds, squirrels, or something even more terrifying waiting to be exposed. Unfortunately for this family, they find out first hand what is waiting for the axe of the tree’s doom.