Ny's Writing Blog ✍️

Snow fell gently over the quiet little town of Red Pines, blanketing rooftops and pine trees in soft white. The night seemed peaceful—too peaceful for December 24th. Children slept soundly, waiting for Santa. Parents finished wrapping presents. And above it all, something old and hungry stirred in the sky.

At 12:03 AM, a strange scraping sound echoed across town.
Something dragging.
Something heavy.

A shadow passed over the moon—long antlers, far too many legs, and a sleigh that looked… wrong. Its wood was rotted black, splintered, dripping something thicker than snowmelt. The bells jingled, but the sound was distorted, like metal grinding bone.

It wasn’t Santa.
Not anymore.

The First Visit

Eight-year-old Mason woke to the sound of hooves tapping on his roof—except they didn’t sound like hooves. More like claws. Long, curved, chitinous claws.

He peeked out his frost-lined window.

Something leaned over the edge of the roof.

It looked like a reindeer—but its fur was mangy, patchy, and slashed open to reveal twitching muscle underneath. Its eyes glowed a feverish red, its jaw unhinged like a snake’s.

And its antlers… they branched and spiraled like twisted, gnarled roots, oozing sap-colored blood.

Behind it, a figure climbed out of the sleigh.

Not Santa.

Just the suit.

The red coat sagged, empty, held up by something invisible inside—something with too many joints. The hat slouched over a hollow void where a face should be. And the beard? It dragged behind him like a long, tangled trail of white hair fused with sinew.

As Mason watched, frozen, the suit’s sleeves extended… and long black fingers emerged from the cuffs, bending backward as they touched the chimney.

The suit crawled downward like a horrific spider.

Mason ran to wake his parents.
But when he entered their room, the window was open, snow drifting in.

Santa’s suit was there—pressed flat against the wall, like a shadow.

It peeled itself off the wallpaper.

The first scream echoed down the street.

Town-Wide Delivery

The creature moved house to house with inhuman speed.

Reindeer-things smashed through windows, their antlers impaling victims and lifting them like ornaments.

One tore through the Miller family’s living room, crunching their Christmas tree under its hooves as it shoved Mrs. Miller into the fireplace, forcing her skull against the sizzling grates.

The suit—“Santa”—used its black, jointed limbs to wrap around people like ribbons, squeezing until bones snapped like candy canes.

It stuffed bodies into its sack, which writhed and bulged, muffled screams leaking out like air from a punctured balloon.

By 3 AM, the snow was no longer white.
Red Pines lived up to its name.

The Last House

At the end of Elm Street lived a teen girl named Riley. She was alone that night—her parents out of town for the holidays. She heard the chaos outside: the shrieking, the bells distorted like a dying music box, the heavy steps of something dragging the sleigh.

She hid in the basement.

But Santa’s suit could smell fear.

The door creaked open slowly, little flakes of red snow drifting down the stairs.

Riley held her breath behind an old water heater.

The suit descended—limbs clicking like insect legs.

Then everything went silent.

Too silent.

Riley peeked around the corner.

The suit was hanging on the ceiling… staring directly at her with a hollow, empty face.

A gloved hand extended.

Not to grab her.
To offer something.

A present.

Wrapped in blood-red paper, tied with a ribbon that glistened like wet muscle fiber.

She didn’t want to open it.

But the suit tilted its void of a head.

She slowly peeled the paper away.

Inside was a photo of her front lawn… taken from outside. In real time. Snow falling exactly as it was now.

And behind her in the picture, just over her shoulder, was something tall and red.

She turned.

The suit was inches from her face.

It opened its chest cavity like a door.

And she was dragged inside, disappearing into a red fabric void that closed around her like a mouth.

The Aftermath

When morning finally came, the town was still.

Snow fell again, clean, white, peaceful.

The sleigh tracks were gone.
The bodies were gone.
The houses were quiet and empty.

But every front porch had one thing:

A neatly wrapped present.
Tied with muscle-fiber ribbon.
Tagged with two words:

”See you next Christmas.”