Horror Santa Claus Novels & Stories

Heck this is my favorite month. But tonight, Christmas is a cruel joke. Snow is just another layer of danger and its beauty is a sharp contrast to the nightmare swallowing me whole. Branches whip at my skin as I sprint through the darkness. My lungs burn. Every breath feels like swallowing ice. I’m shaking—not from the cold, but from terror so strong it feels like it’s carved into my bones. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what they want. I don’t know why this is happening.

"What were your parents thinking when they bought the house you're living in. I swear it's haunted, at least that's what the rumors say. You should see how creepy the place looks on Halloween night. It's fucked up." I laughed, the fear in her tone shining through, "My father loves projects for one and as for Halloween, you haven't seen scary. My dad goes all out." It was a holiday that technically celebrated him so of course, he did. Making sure everything was as scary as it seemed. I had read that Dark angels were strongest at midnight, the start of Halloween. My father confirmed it, considering how stupid mortals are, wanting to conjure up demons and whatnot. The amount of fear that loomed

He could feel the regret Of his feelings that were so set An irrevocable emotional bit Pepper Rei was the fit For his puzzled long life So he took after her To find her laying under the Hallow tree A gate to the otherworld And he could hear the nearby residents Putting up the Halloween decor A naive sensitivity looming on the survival of mankind He saw with a sinking whine Pepper Rei flaking into bits And settling into the Hallow roots And this was the moment of fear, A first for Mr. Riversane Maybe the end was very near. Trade with Death The clock was nearing midnight The fog had settled an unusual welcome to the end

“I’m glad I didn’t wake up. I have a new phobia now.” “I’m sorry about that, Kate.” “Yeah. You wanna hear the phobia? Fear of sudden deathly attacks. I can’t sleep alone. Is there such a thing?” “It’s not a phobia. It’s a trauma you’ll recover from.” Kate chuckled and gulped down more coffee. “When I was five, my dad faked Santa. He bought a cheap costume that made him look like a Halloween ghost. My head was by the window and I was sleeping. I woke up suddenly to the frightening image of him reaching for my head. He was only trying to drop a Christmas gift but I never recovered. The doctors said it was a trauma I would recover from. I never did.”

The trailer that began playing made Danika’s stomach drop instantly—dark forest, screaming girl, sudden flashes, eerie music. Her head snapped toward Dante. “No. No, no, no. Please tell me that is not—” “Horror,” Dante said simply, taking his seat like it was nothing. Danika stared at him in horror. “You brought me to a horror movie?! I hate this!” Dante’s lips curled slightly. “I know.” “You—are you insane?” she whispered, already backing away toward the aisle. But the lights dimmed completely before she could escape. The movie started.

"Keep going." "The older church crowd is split. Half of them think you seduced him — sorry, that's their word, not mine — and the other half think it's romantic and are secretly rooting for you but won't say so publicly because of your mother." Sara raised an eyebrow. "Your mother is apparently terrifying." "She is."

Since the person had already figured I was home, there was no point pretending. I steeled myself and shouted, "Who are you? What do you want?" The person outside said nothing and kept pounding on the door. I forced myself to the door and pressed my eye to the peephole. It was that officer. His face was smeared with blood, his eyes wide as he glared through the peephole, a gleaming knife clutched in his hand. A shudder ran through me. He was no officer! Was he the killer?

Her mouth was stretched wide in a horrifying shriek. A wave of pure hatred rolled off her, so cold it burned the air. The chat stirred to life again. [Here we go! Classic jump scare!] [That's one of the manor's most vicious ghosts! It feeds on the players' fear!] [This newbie is toast! She won't even have time to react!] [I can already picture her getting torn to shreds...] But I didn't scream. I didn't run. Of course, my heart condition chose that exact moment to flare up. The pain was so bad I could barely stand.

Too fucking bizarre to even contemplate, to even have been real. Still, it was funny, how the thin giant’s head didn’t seem nearly as large and monstrous tonight as it had when they were younger. There were other Halloween decorations on display along Brazier Drive, amid these sleeping Houses of the Holy. Richard noticed some window-cling mummies, and a bedsheet ghost in the trees. An autumn-harvest scarecrow with a pair of dullish orange pumpkins (whose fleshy insides must be turning to stringy, seeded mush with the warm September days) sat on the porch stoop next door.

Also, it appeared that Alessia was quite familiar with the creature. "It's the evil Santa!" Alessia shrieked. "We're as so fúcking dead!" Alessia's mind raced back to her childhood when she had been obsessed with mythology and had amassed a vast collection of books on the subject. She vividly remembered reading about Krampus, a legendary figure from Alpine folklore that appeared only to punish naughty children every December 5th. Alessia wondered if she had been naughty or nice as she recollected everything she had done both in the De Luca household and in her twenty years on earth. While she had indeed done some good deeds, the evil she had perpetrated far outweighed the good.