Christmas Fnaf Novels & Stories

Lowering myself to her level, I held her shoulders gently and brushed a strand of hair from her face. “No,” I said softly. “No, honey. You just had a nightmare. That’s all.” She didn’t look convinced. “Mummy has no reason to hurt Daddy,” I added quickly. “I’ll be back soon. And guess what? We’re spending Christmas here with Grandma and Uncle Elliot.” Her face lit up instantly. “Yeah.” “I’m just going to get a few things for Christmas,” I said. “I’ll be back.” I turned away before she could ask anything else.

Back in the hospice ward, Noelle opened her eyes weakly. She looked around and said, "Daddy, Mommy promised me she'd dress up as Santarina and bring me presents… Isn't that right?" I held her hand tightly, forcing back my grief. "Yes. Mommy will come as Santarina." I lowered my head helplessly and checked my phone again, but there was still no response from Ivana. Then, I opened Instagram and saw Charles' newest post. He wrote, "Bubbles is missing. I feel like I can't breathe… Bubbles, where are you?"

“Oh my God.” My father sounded smug now. “Exactly. So clean up your attitude before you get here.” “I—” A voice crackled softly through my headphones behind me. Low. Calm. Familiar. “Ivy.” My blood froze. Slowly, I turned back toward my laptop s creen. The livestream was still running. The masked man sat motionless in the darkness. Watching me. Then quietly: “Go welcome your Christmas present.”

Another message came, this time it was a picture. As soon as I saw the picture, the fork slipped through my fingers and fell on the plate, startling Aunt Mira. My jaw dropped, my heart sank, my pulse quickened. On my screen was a picture of Damon and me having sex in his car. The picture captured my head thrown back in reckless abandon, my mouth pouted, and my eyes shut. It only captured Damon from the side, but clear enough to see his face buried between my breasts. A third message followed. “This would make a really viral picture" Fuck! I'm doomed.

My heart thudded. “Five!” I looked around. At my friends. At my father. At this house that no longer felt intimidating. Just full. “Four!” Alaric’s hand tightened slightly. “Three!” His breath brushed against my temple. “Two!” I smiled without even meaning to. “One!” “MERRY CHRISTMAS!” The room exploded into noise. Laughter. Cheers. Someone popped something that sounded suspiciously like a champagne cork. Malik tackled Alex onto the rug. Zendaya screamed happily.

Ahana I awake early on Christmas morning and, after speaking with my family on the phone, have a shower and go downstairs, holding the gifts I have bought for Chris and Muna, with the intent of putting them under the Christmas tree. I am surprised to meet them already down there as early as 7am. “We were just about to come get you,” Chris beams at me. “Merry Christmas.” “Merry Christmas,” I say to him with a smile of my own, before lifting Muna up and hugging her. “Merry Christmas, munchkin!”

Christmas is a period of love, of happiness, of good cheer, it is a period when the whole world celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, it is a period where everything looks festive, where the clothes are different, where Santa comes out for the first time in a year, where gifts are exchanged, but most of all it is a time for family. Rhea was happy, that year was extremely special, it was something she could not really explain, it was the first Christmas her Theo and Jason would spend together.

Their unspoken desires, like shimmering stars in the winter sky, danced in silent harmony, carrying the promise of reunion and the timeless enchantment of the season. As Asmo found himself amidst the vibrant tapestry of Christmas cheer, a whimsical thought took root in his mind, unfurling like a mischievous wisp of laughter in the midst of his introspection. Pondering the age-old enigma of Father Christmas, he found himself ensnared in a labyrinth of bemusement, his brow furrowed in mock solemnity as he contemplated the veracity of the jolly old figure who traversed the world in a single night.

Underneath: wrapped gifts, one big box for Nkem, small ones for everyone else. Adanna and Kelechi had flown in three days ago—first family Christmas in Toronto. Nkem, now eleven, ran around in socks, eyes wide at the snow. “Uncle Chino! It dey fall like magic!” Chino laughed, pulled her into a hug. “Na magic. But cold magic. Come, wear your coat.” Mama and Papa joined on video—tablet propped on the table, Onitsha living room behind them, Christmas carols playing low. Mama’s face filled the screen, smile wide. “Chino! Liam! Nkem! Merry Christmas, my people!”

By the time Yves Golding got home, it was already midnight. I was lying in bed, staring at a photo of him and Melissa Lane. His abs showed faintly beneath his red Santa suit as she leaned against them, eyes shyly closed. Their colleagues had left comments below the post, saying that they were a perfect match and that Yves was quite bold. Melissa commented, "You guys, stop making things up. Mr. Golding was just being kind by keeping a lonely soul like me company for Christmas!"