Cursed Santa Novels & Stories

tool for employment against the Council's magical sensors. "What is the curse? How did you get it?" "The curse is my gift," the man replied, his pain-stricken eyes locking onto Sama Arthur. "The Council, through their experiments in dark magic, attempted to subvert the natural order of my line. They sought to weaponize our healing. They wished to steal our gifts and use them as weapons. They sought to make a hybrid, a healer who could steal life instead of giving it. I was the first, and only, to defy. My essence, my soul, rebelled, and I was cursed. I became what I am: a living paradox. A healer who cannot heal himself, a man who cannot be detected." "And the Council left you for dead?" Di

There were two glass jars inside with my head and kidney both soaking in formaldehyde. "What gives that bitch the right to be your wife? She even got one of your kidneys," Carmen snarled as she caressed the two jars. "That's why I took it out. I'm returning it to you now. What I can't have, I won't let anyone else have either. My godfather will be here soon. He'll kill all of you to avenge my father!" There was a glimmer of love in Evan's eyes as he stared at my head in the jar. He reached into his pocket and gripped the scalpel inside tightly.

Just this once, I will disobey her without feeling guilty about it. On the 24th of every month—as I counted the months my mother passed away—I turned feral with rage. But on Christmas Eve—as I celebrated her death anniversary—I became a monster. That was why I hated Christmas. Mother planned for it, but she never got to celebrate it. There are rumours that the king is cursed every Christmas eve, but no one knew that I wasn't just cursed. I turned into a dangerous monster—one strong enough to erase mankind. I threw down the glass of wine in my hand and slammed the glass on the wall, the sound of it shattering echoed through the room.

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!"

I understood the underlying tone of his message. Ella Winter, the strange girl who’d come to this town with even stranger powers. She was the key to undoing the curse that had plagued our family for a century now. The curse that caused us to lose our minds every full moon, going berserk. For a century, many Alphas had suffered and committed suicide without finding their mates. Failing to find mates within our territory, we had to move to Alaska, where a prophecy by the prophetess spoke of a white wolf who could break the curse.

I'm at the supermarket when an old woman I don't know suddenly grips my hand tightly. I instinctively shield my baby bump, but she says, "Someone has placed a swap spell on you. The dead baby is about to be transferred to your body soon." I think she's a liar, but she says, "Hurry up and try to make yourself vomit. You should try to throw up as much of that fish you just ate as you can."

He made fun of me as my cheeks burned from embarrassment. I sure hope I didn't pee on myself. The new Christmas song that was playing in the background now was "All I want for Christmas." by Mariah Carey. Santa Claus got on the bed again, teasing my clit with his slippery dick as he removed the soiled vibrator, stretching out his tongue to lick my release from it. "What do you want for this Christmas, girl?" He asked and I shut my eyes. "Your Cock, Santa Claus. Please ravish me hard." I pleaded as he continued to tease me down there, almost making me lose my mind.

I tilted my head to the side, not understanding what he was driving at. He grabbed my hands and walked me to a mantled bed, leveling up on it, before he continued with his sermon, "Every year Santa gives out gifts and helps people to fulfill their wishes, but none ever care if Santa too needs a gift or has a wish that needs to be fulfilled, so why don't you grant this Santa his wish then?" I snaked my head backwards, my face squeezed in total confusion. I was the one who needed help, not him, right? "I don't understand; do you want me to fulfill a wish for you?" He gave a sharp and quick nod, the mysterious grin never leaving his lips.

Sachem Nadura said and gazed at the cloud of strength that was clearly visible to all directions of these Eternal Prisons. His eyes concentrated and punctured through the camouflage of power upon the vortex of its origins. At the center was a boy. A marred being coupled with his list of sickness. His broken body may have been spectacularly pitiful but what called Sachem Nadura’s attention most was the tattooed symbols on the forehead of the boy. It was the mark of the Cursed. Someone who has done an unforgivable sin in his past life. And not just one but a whole lifetime of evil and immorality.

"You will be cut off from all accounts, all trusts, and all history. To the world, you will cease to exist." Santa looked directly into his eyes. They were barren, reflecting only the harsh, indifferent white light of the crystal chandelier. “You are dead to me, and I am dead to you,” Santa stated, her voice dangerously calm. It was a vow. A severing of the soul. “Sounds perfect. Have a good life, Mr. Wing.”