Merry Christmas, Max

Somehow she had managed to finish her Christmas shopping. The mall had been hellacious, and yet she had checked off every single item on her list, including the impossible to find video game console that her two sons had been begging her for constantly for the past three months. She had tried every store in the city, even looked online, but they were the new rage for the season and were selling out from every shelf they hit. But by the grace of God Himself, she had discovered one last one, forgotten in the back of the store in the chaos of all of the clearance racks. She was thinking that perhaps, just perhaps, their Christmas with her husband’s entire family would turn out peaceful, with the new game to distract all of the kiddies.

She walked home, bags in hand. The mall was only a few blocks from her house, and she would rather brave the winter chill than the mall’s parking lot. It hadn’t been a bad decision. The houses down her street were all bright with strung up Christmas lights in every color of the rainbow. Blow-up Santa Clauses waved as she passed. The snow from the last weekend still clung to the yards and driveways, and melting stumps that had once been snowmen lined the road like sentinels. She couldn’t help but smile, and in the back of her head she sung a Christmas tune, imagining it was written about her on that night.

She was about to make the turn into her neighborhood when an unusual sound dragged her from her reverie. She stopped for a moment, holding her breath, listening closely for the sound again. What had it been? The rustle of the dead bushes? The soft crunching of feet on the frozen grass and thin sheet of snow? As she listened, she would have sworn she heard mouthy breathing coming from the distance, but if something that far away was so loud to her, the mouth must be quite a large one. Not human, no Sir.

At that she laughed. Actually laughed into the darkness, each chuckle releasing a visible puff of warm air up towards the stars. What was she thinking? A monster, perhaps? Following her home on Christmas Eve so he could take her, roast her in his monster oven, and serve her to his monster babies as Christmas dinner? She laughed again, flipped the end of her scarf over her shoulder, pulled her collar tighter, and began walking again. Her house was at the end of the street, and she could imagine how loud and rowdy everyone was now, the adults perhaps watching some festive movie on television while the little girls put on a fashion show for everyone and the boys were up in one of her sons’ rooms playing with action figures. She was a bitter person, and disliked several members of her family, and yet the thought of that scene warmed her heart and made her eager to step back into her living room.

She had only made it past one more house when she heard another sound. She could only think of it as something lurching behind her. And worst of all, whatever it was, she could feel something hot against her back. That mouthy breathing again. So close she could smell it – putrid and moist, like some rotting vegetable. Her eyes were wide with fear and her heart raced in her chest. Something was behind her. Something large and something very real.

She didn’t turn. She wasn’t stupid. Instead, she started walking again, faster this time, her arms drawn in closer to her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood upright, as if she had been electrocuted. She could still feel the heat through her coat. Her walk sped up into a jog, and she was absolutely terrified now, prepared to scream.

And then something closed around her mouth and she was dragged down onto the concrete. She shut her eyes tight and bit the hand clasped to her lips so hard that it drew blood, and she could taste it metallic and warm in her mouth. She tried to scream. She threw her arms and legs wildly into the air, kicking and punching against some massive body. When there was no reaction to her strikes, she opened her eyes a crack, to better see her assailant.

When she saw the monster, an eight foot tall nightmare with a black furred body and four arms ending in yellowed talons, smiling and drooling with a mouth full of fangs, bent over her like some deadly hunchback, she screamed. And she fainted.







The back of Max’s sedan was piled so high with presents that he had to move some of them into the passenger’s seat so that he could shut the trunk door. It was Christmas Eve, and he wanted to be nowhere but curled in his bed with the covers over his head. But here he was, nine o’clock at night, stuffing his car with junky presents for his relatives, about to make the three hour drive to his parent’s house the next state south. He had pumped himself up with lots of coffee, but even the rush wasn’t enough to stop him longing for the soft sheets and thick, cozy comforters that he could be tangled up in right that moment.

He made another trip back into his house to grab his overnight bag from the hall. It was heavy – carrying not only a change of clothes and his toiletries – but a big bottle of blackberry brandy that had been on sale at the liquor store. His mouth was dry, and he would have loved to take a swig of it before the drive down, but with his luck he’d get pulled over before he even left his neighborhood.

He was making a last minute check over everything he had thrown into his car when he heard the sound of footsteps falling in the snow. He paused, startled, but after taking a couple of breaths to calm himself, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hello? Is someone there?” he called out, but his tone was jocular. “Ooh, so spooky. A boogieman creeping up behind me. Shucks, I sure am frightened.”

A voice returned from the shadows, as melancholy and quiet as the whispering winter wind, “One of these days it won’t be me, and you’ll be sorry.”

“Sure,” Max snorted. He spun around on his heel, trying to find the source of the voice, but whoever or whatever it was camouflaged so well with the darkness that he couldn’t even see an outline in the starlight. He turned back to his car and slammed the door, so that the lights inside would go off just a couple of seconds later. When they had, a hulking figure stepped forth from the bushes. The silhouette was twice the size of a human, with twice as many arms.

“Where are you going? I’m so sad when you leave,” the shadow creature murmured. It ran its paws along the side of the car and swayed as it approached, as though unable to bear its sorrow along with its tremendous weight.

“I’m going to my parents’. Tomorrow’s Christmas. Do you know what that is? It’s when we celebrate the - ”

“I know what Christmas is,” the beast sighed. It stopped just a few inches from Max and was so much taller than him that he had to crane his neck just to meet its gaze.

“Great. Well then you really understand why I have to be going,” Max replied, reaching for the car door.

The beast grabbed him with three arms and with the fourth revealed something from its pocket. It was a miniature box, and Max had a strange feeling what was inside. “I have a present for you.”

Max didn’t really want to take the box. “Where did you get the present? I can’t exactly see you sauntering into a mall.”

“Some lady got it for me,” replied the beast, and Max couldn’t help but think that he was lying. He wanted to demand that the monster return it to whoever he stole it from before he could see its contents, but a part of him… the sinful, dangerous part of him was already reaching forward to take the box in his fingers. It was made of velvet, and sat on hinges. He knew what was inside. He shouldn’t open it. He should just tell the monster to give it back, and yet…

He opened the box. When his brain finally registered with what his eyes were seeing, he was both happy and tremendously sad at the same time. It was a ring – a silver band with many tiny marquise-cut diamonds. It was beautiful.

“Do you like it?” the monster asked, leaning as low as possible so that it could press its hairy forehead against Max’s.

Max pulled away. “No. No. You need to take it back. You can’t just steal presents from other people. I know you probably jumped some lady and took it from her shopping bags or something.”

The creature shook its vast, shaggy head. “I… well…. I did jump some lady. But - ”

“No buts! You could have killed someone! And all for this stupid ring? Why would you steal? We’ve talked about this before. If you want to keep coming to visit me you’ve got to stop harming others,” Max cried, pushing the box back into the monster’s hands. “I’m going to my family, and if you don’t give that ring back you aren’t allowed to come see me again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Max. But…” the monster took a step back, its jowls drawn into a frown. “I didn’t steal the ring. I did grab some lady, but… I gave her money. I asked her to buy it for me. And I let her keep the change.”

“You… you what?” Max stammered, leaning against his car for support. “What? You… you what? What?”

“She bought it for me. I said ‘If you could have any gift on Christmas, what would it be?’ And she told me ‘a ring’! You can even ask her. She lives down the street; I carried her shopping bags home for her afterwards.” The creature held the box out to Max again, and its eyes were desperate now. “Please… it’s yours. Please.”

“I… well… thanks,” Max muttered, taking the ring back and admiring its faint shine in the moonlight. “Thank you.”

“You should trust me more,” the beast sighed. “Well, have fun at your parents’ house.” Before disappearing into the shadows, it nuzzled Max’s cheek affectionately, its slobbery lips lingering on his flesh. “Merry Christmas.”