Jolly Christmas

Pearly white and electric blue Christmas lights illuminated the main street, flickering in a slow rhythm. Endless minuscule snowflakes were drifting down the sky making the ground seem like it´s covered with a bright flossy layer of cotton candy. Visibly the time stood still- only a few lonely souls wandering out in the quiet streets, the air lighter this time of year. The magic around Christmas Eve meant a busy night ahead- there’s hard labour behind the curtains.

Heavy charcoal tank boots dragged across the ground, massive velvet sacks slung from the broad shoulder. One of them was filled with tonight´s necessities: crimson red mittens for the holiday spirit; modified version of an electric carver knife, which could classify as an electric saw at this point; meat tenderizer for the juicy main part accompanied by a few other helpful tools. Filling the other empty bag was the goal of the night. After all, the world could do without some people and Christmas miracles do happen.

Now in a bigger picture he was a classic Santa kids could draw pictures and tell stories about. Except he stayed far away from any innocent children and whoever he came to visit, would have their last Christmas. He liked to refer to himself as Satan´s little helper. There was never a need to introduce himself since nobody encountered him twice.

The visits followed a naughty list, picking off where last year ended. Luckily the list never ran out of names- 10 kills on your soul and your time will come as your name gets marked on the list. How many innocent lives will be spared after I´m done? There would never be enough justice if it wasn’t for me.

Hopes were through the roof tonight- every year I aimed to clear more names off the list by the end of the night than previously. Meaning there was no time to waste-last year will be hard to beat. Collecting more than 23 presents is not impossible, but better to make a head start nevertheless. Time to bring Christmas joy to as many cities as possible.

The privileges of working at such a prestigious and honorable position came with no needing to worry about trivial things like transportation. Simply open the naughty list and land at the next culprit´s doorstep. Pulling the scarlet paper scroll from the sack, the first on the list was Jackson Hurley. A middle- aged guy living in Minnesota, in a small cabin in the woods. No wonder he´s a serial killer- he has the perfect location for his business endeavours. He´s responsible for 12 murders of young brunette women aged between 17-23 and the police are good for nothing. They haven´t even found a single body yet (buried in the woods not too far from his property), let alone have him or anyone as a suspect. He seems to be due for some Christmas greetings.

A moment later I stood in the woods, endless pine trees stretching into nothing, eerie quiet surrounding an abandoned- looking old wooden cabin with dust and grim-covered windows and ivy covering majority of the building. A splitting scream came from a smaller building, conveniently hiding behind the cabin. Of course there´s a shed. I take it as my cue to start my work and grab the mittens from my bag.

Jackson seems to be occupied so instead of a polite knock I let myself in. A pair of intense, wild eyes greet me by the doorstep. Make it two pairs- a beat up young woman is shivering on a chair before Jackson, tied with a rope and blood-spotted white rag over her mouth. The previous lightness is replaced with fear and iron lingering around the cold shed, making the air thick.

After clearing his throat and giving me the death stare Jackson muttered, a light tremble in his voice: " What the fuck d´you want, huh? You just signed your death wish,” taking an uncertain step towards me.

“No no, go on. I´ll wait. Finish up your things before we get to know each other. " I send him a knowing smile, leaning at the doorstep. Too eager for his own good Mr. Hurley grabs a knife from a tray next to him and heads towards me. “Well, talk about a good head start,” I welcome him with a meat tenderizer, sharp metal spikes poking through his skin beneath his jaw. Bloodstreams start flowing from the corners of his mouth as he stumbles backwards. I yank the tenderizer off him and take another hit, aiming for his Adam´s apple. Jackson collapses on the floor, crimson painting around him. He will bleed to death shortly. Heavy breaths and whimpers come from a mere steps away, a panicked girl trying to escape from the bounds, giving me terrified glances.

" You don´t have to worry about me until you make it to my list, which seems unlikely. I´ll untie you and you´re free to go.” I murmur while slicing the ropes behind her back with a rather dull knife, borrowed from Jackson. The woman sprints towards the exit the second she gets free, giving me a confused stare and stopping briefly at the door.

“Merry Christmas,” I wave at her with my blood-covered mitten. My only company now is Jackson, who´s staring at the ceiling with soulless and vacant eyes. That leaves just the grand finale.

My carving knife is a good little helper on the final task: Jackson Humbley´s head, preferably without the rest of him. The blades have been swapped for sharper ones, slicing through bones like melted butter. Blood spurts from the neck, sending droplets to all directions and decorating the walls with boughs of jolly.

Throwing Jackson´s head into the empty bag, I´ve collected the first present of the evening. The next name on the list reveals to be Liam McCormick from Wyoming. Liam almost makes Jackson look like a good guy- he´s a pedophile hunting and mutilating young boys under the age of 10. Since last night the count reached 26 victims on his soul. There will be no mercy for this guy.

I find myself in front of an apartment building near the main streets of Douglas, the silence of the woods replaced with cars honking around every corner and the last remaining people on the streets flapping their arms desperately, crying for taxis.

Staring at Liam through his living room window I notice the quiet somber- no hint of holidays to be seen. Just a murderous, lonely predator spending his Christmas watching some dumb comedy movie on TV.

This year will be different for Liam as I will be visiting for a small gathering. The unlocked front door welcomes me to the humble abode- the reek of urine and mold fills the air, rotten apple cores sitting on the kitchen table. Wanting to waste no time in this shithole, I yell a quick

" Merry Christmas, dear Liam! It´s me, your worst nightmare,” while pointing the naughty list at him.

“You have been on the naughty list for a while now, haven´t you?” I drag the scroll across his cheek when he gawks at me and starts spluttering incoherently “Wha… Wh.. Who are you?”. He snatches the scroll from my hand and curls it open. This might turn out to be the best Christmas yet and I start cackling, laughter sending surges of joy through my whole body.

“You really shouldn´t have done that but let´s see where this goes” I chuckle as I´m slapping my hand on the knee, letting him know how much joy it brings me.

Nobody has ever looked at the naughty list besides him, but there was no rule stating they couldn’t. Following the logic they would simply be delivered to a maniac´s doorstep next on the list. This ought to be interesting. Liam sends me a million questions with his expression on his face and the next second he disappears from my eyes.

Catching the scroll I glance at the next name- Hunter Moone from Colorado. Between him and me, I´m honestly not confident that Liam is better off with his company. Hunter seems to prefer his Christmas dinner with a meat choice of human. Speaking of food, I quickly grab a gingerbread cookie from the coffee table and shove it in my mouth. It´s shaped like a Christmas tree, no less. Let´s count that as festive decoration.

I´m giving them a good head start to get acquainted before I barge through Hunter´s door. It opens with a loud creak, echoing in the dark and silent hallway. “Is anyone home?” I drawl as I make my way through the hallway, flicking the lights on and off.

Peeking through the first door on the left I get a glimpse of Liam splayed out on the table, or rather pieces of him.

“Even the head has been prepared already, what a nice surprise,” I chuckle as I wrap my fingers around Liam´s blond matted curls and throw his head into the bag.

Hunter´s blank stare from the left corner nearly gives me the creeps- he´s curled up on the floor, white foam around his mouth. Looks like Liam got to him before his own ultimate demise- he liked to inject his victims with lethal doses of opioids. I grab my carving knife and collect Hunter´s head. “Merry Christmas to me,” I murmur with barely breaking a sweat this evening. Perhaps I should start bringing the culprits on the list together more often.

The night goes on as he collects the debts,

exceeding his own expectations.

Ain´t no rest for the wicked.

The clock is nearing midnight as I deliver the presents to Rockefeller Street. The pompous Christmas tree is standing before me, branches nearly reaching the sky, covered with thousands of sparkling lights blinding the eye. This year will have more presents under the tree than ever: 27 blood-crusted severed heads I managed to collect tonight. One by one I place the heads under the tree, forming a line full of wandering pairs of eyes peeking from the ground.

“No Christmas tree is complete with presents,” I let out a sigh of gratitude and take a step backwards to admire the tree in its full potential. 27 waste of breath, evil spreading wicked men bringing some joy for once in their lives. This is their greater purpose instead. Tonight was a huge success- I´m sure the people will be pleased to see more presents this year. Next year I might have to bring a bigger bag with me. Throwing the yet again empty sack over my shoulder I start caroling while wandering the quiet streets of New York, leaving crimson breadcrumbs in the snow behind me:

Deck the hall with boughs of holly,

Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

‘Tis the season to be jolly:

Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!