Christmas Ashes Read online

  “Ho-ho-ho!” Santa laughed. “There’s only one place you’re going, Billy Boy. A special place I’ve reserved just for demented little delinquents like you.”

  He snapped his fingers. The bag tilted forward and opened. William raised his eyebrows, his eyes wide as saucers. Strands of Christmas lights shot out of the bag towards him. They wrapped around his body, pulling his legs together and pinning his arms to his side. The tips of the lights dug into his skin like thorns. They gave him quick shocks of electricity each time he struggled to break free. Within seconds, he had Christmas lights wrapped around him from neck to ankles.

  Santa wiped tears from William’s eyes and ruffled his hair. “Little Johnny is going to love his Christmas gift this year.” Then he shoved the naughty teenager into the red fleece bag, kicking him in the butt on the way in.

  * * *

  “Santa Claus was here!”

  Daniel jolted awake from his little sister’s yelling. He stretched his arms out and rubbed his eyes. Then he noticed a small gift box on his dresser with a card underneath it. He rolled his eyes and got up. He started heading to his door, but curiosity set in. He turned back around and lifted the gift box from his dresser. Something rattled inside of it.

  His door swung open. “Danny! Santa was here,” Josie said, her eyes wide with excitement. “Come look at what he brought me.”

  “In a second,” he said while pulling the lid off the box.

  “Whatcha get?” Josie said, stepping inside the room. “Is it from Santa?”

  Daniel stared down at the box and lowered his brow. Inside was a lump of coal. Josie peaked into the box and laughed. “You got a lump of coal for Christmas! You were on the Naught List.” She chuckled again and left the room. “Hey, Mommy, Danny got a lump of coal from Santa Claus!”

  Daniel glared back at the hallway and covered the box. He dropped it on the dresser and opened the envelope. It had a Christmas card inside with an illustration of Santa Claus sitting by a fire. Inside, written in cursive, the message said:

  Daniel,

  I left you a lump of coal as a reminder of your bad behavior. Next year, if you remain on my Naught List, you’ll meet the same fate as William Hamilton. Believe in me, improve your behavior, and stop bullying little kids. Then, maybe I’ll reconsider bringing you a real gift for Christmas.

  I’m watching you,

  Saint Nicholas

  Daniel dropped the card and grabbed his cell phone. He called William, but he didn’t answer.

  * * *

  “Wake up, sweetie.”

  Jonathan opened his eyes and stretched. His mother stood by his bed with Trixie in her arms. He smiled and wished his mother a Merry Christmas.

  “There’s another gift under the tree,” his mother said.

  Jonathan sat up and wrinkled his forehead. “Really? You didn’t have to get me anything else.” His mother had already given him a new bicycle and computer tablet for Christmas.

  “It’s not from me,” she said and winked at him. “It’s from Santa Claus.”

  “Santa? Really?”

  “That’s what it says on the box.” Jonathan’s mother set the cat on his bed. “I’ll go make us some pancakes, and then you can open your gift. Okay?”

  He nodded, then stared at the Marine Corps baseball cap on his desk. It was clean, looked brand new. It had been dirty the night before. “When did you clean this?” he asked his mother.

  “I didn’t,” she said. “Must’ve been Santa.” She winked at him and left the room.

  He held the cap in his hands and rubbed his thumb over the emblem stitching. Then he smiled and put the cap on his head.

  After breakfast, he and his mother sat by the tree. Christmas tunes played through a music streaming application on Jonathan’s tablet. His mother handed him the gift. The package was heavy and wrapped with green and red paper. There were images of Santa all over the wrapping paper, with an envelope stuffed underneath the ribbon and bow. Glancing at his mother, Jonathan removed the envelope and pulled out a handwritten letter. It read:

  Dear Johnny,

  Thank you for being such a good boy this year. You’ve always been on my Nice List, so I used a little Christmas magic to clean the baseball cap your father gave you. I also did something special that you asked for in your letter. I'm saddened by how William Hamilton and Daniel Easterling have treated you. So, my Christmas gift to you this year is a promise that those two will never pick on you ever again.

  Merry Christmas!

  Santa Claus

  “So, what’s it say?” Jonathan’s mother asked. He handed her the letter and waited for her response. She lowered her brow as she read the note. “Honey,” she said, her attention back on her son. “Is this true? You never told me about this.”

  “I didn’t want to bother you with it. Besides, Santa said he took care of it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Jonathan removed the wrapping paper and opened the package. Inside was a decorative wooden box. He cocked his head back. “A jewelry box? What am I supposed to do with this?” He lifted it out of the packaging and pulled the top back. He widened his eyes. Taped to the bottom of the lid was a photo of William Hamilton wrapped in Christmas lights.

  “What is it?” His mother asked and scooted over next to him. “Oh, dear Jesus,” she said as they gazed at a bundle of light gray ashes wrapped in clear plastic. Stuck to the side of the bag was a label with North Pole Crematory printed on it.

  Jonathan picked up the bag of warm cremains and smiled. “Thank you, Santa Claus,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

  # # #

  Excerpt from DEVIL’S NIGHTMARE . . .

  Cody’s lungs burned with each frenetic breath as he made his escape toward the gated entrance of the old cemetery. He ran past rows of tombstones and lost his footing several times, whimpering in fear as he picked himself up. His blood curdled from a distant scream. A loud explosion of thunder startled him as he checked over his shoulder and slipped, collapsing onto the wet, muddy ground. He pushed himself backward, his hands frantically splashing in puddles of muddied water. The darkness of the cemetery made it impossible to see anything more than a shadow, but Cody knew what stalked him. He knew the evil coming.

  He screamed and jumped back to his feet. He ran as fast as he could on the slippery ground. Another loud crash of thunder followed a bright flash of lightning. He was so close, so close to the entrance to the cemetery, but the rain, stronger than before, hammered down upon him. He splashed through puddles of water, flinching from the sheets of rain slapping his face. He struggled to increase his speed, his tears blending in with the rain. Four bicycles lay scattered on the ground near the entrance of the cemetery. Cody yanked his bicycle upright off the ground and checked behind him, but there wasn’t anything there. He hesitated, his heart breaking at the sight of his friends’ bikes lying next to his.

  “I’m so sorry,” he cried before mounting his own bike.

  The mud, caked onto the soles of his shoes, caused his feet to slip on the wet pedals. He peered into the dark depths of the cemetery again and found the familiar shadow creeping towards him. Whimpering again, Cody reached down to scrape the mud off with his bare hands, and then pedaled a mile to his home in the heavy rain. Rain-drenched, Cody jumped the curb in front of his house and dropped his bicycle on the lawn. He ran to his open bedroom window, stumbled through it, and fell onto the floor. His bedroom curtains flapped inward as rain splashed onto the hardwood floor. Picture frames on the walls rattled as Cody grabbed his bedroom window and pulled down on it several times until it slammed shut. He dropped to the floor and wept below the window with his head lowered and arms wrapped around his legs, tucking them close to his chest.

  Cody lifted his head when the bedroom light came on. Two adults stood in the doorway. His mother rushed inside the room while his stepfather Tony placed a hand on the door frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

  “What in hell’s wrong with ya, boy?” Tony said in
a deep southern drawl. His eyes dropped to Cody’s wet shoes and the muddied floor. “And why in hell ya soakin’ wet? Goddamn it, boy, ya sneaked out again, didn’t ya? And where in the hell is—?”

  “What’s wrong, honey?” Cody’s mother broke in, noticing her son trembling. “Are you—?”

  “He’s in deep shit, that’s what! Told ya we couldn’t trust this little bastard.” Tony pointed a stern finger at Cody and warned, “Ya pull this shit again and I’m gonna bust yer ass! Now get yer ass up and—” The lights flickered and went dark. “Goddammit!” Cody’s stepfather yelled. “Piece a shit electricity always goes out when it rains.” He grabbed his wife’s arm. “Carol, get me the goddamn flashlight. And a mop so this little shit can clean up his mess.”

  A flash of bright light shot through the curtains as Carol stepped towards the hallway. Cody’s eyes grew wide. He scooted backwards, mumbling and whimpering.

  “What in hell’s yer problem?” Tony said.

  Cody’s face whitened. Tears flowed from his eyes. He whimpered “No” repeatedly as he scooted further away, only to find himself trapped in a corner of the dark bedroom. Heavy rain poured outside as a web of lightning scattered across the sky. Intense thunder muffled the screams and breaking glass. A moment later, all was quiet. The rain stopped, the lightning dissipated, and the thunder grew faint in the distance.

  To find out where to purchase Devil’s Nightmare visit www.SharkbaitWrites.com.

  DISCOVER OTHER FICTION

  WRITTEN BY ROBERT PRUNEDA

  Novels:

  Devil’s Nightmare

  Devil’s Nightmare: Premonitions

  Pursuit of a Dream

  Short Stories:

  The Secret Diary of James Killborn (Horror Hooligans, 1st Edition)

  Sharky’s Book of Horrors (Coming 2016)

  Flash Fiction:

  Dead in Pink

  Visit www.SharkbaitWrites.com for the latest updates.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Robert “Sharky” Pruneda is a native Texan, video game “enthusiast” [addict], and fan of all things horror. He left a career in the newspaper industry in 2011 to pursue the life of a nocturnal author, brainstorming new and creative ways to creep out his readers. He doesn’t only write horror though. He also pens the occasional family-oriented tale just to keep from going completely nuts with all those creatures of the night whispering in his ears. When he’s not pulling ideas out of his twisted brain, you’ll likely find him on social media or fighting alongside his fellow gaming buddies where they all get shot up into Swiss cheese (or turned into little bite-sized chunks because of “Sharky’s” obsession with explosives). Medic!

  Pursue your dreams . . . and never look back!

  www.SharkbaitWrites.com