Nightmare Before Xmas Hill Novels & Stories

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!"

And I’m going to get him back. I'm having another nightmare. In this one, I'm in a dark room and I can't see a thing. I'm panting and calling for Jaxon, but there's no response. I run out and fall into a pile of snow. When I look up, there's a full moon, shining so bright like the sun. Suddenly, it turns red, and I hear heavy footsteps behind me.

I learned to be thankful and quiet. That acceptance made me hate Christmas. Love songs made my skin crawl. The lights under our tree looked like glass eyes. The ribbons on the presents were traps. Every year, the house tuned itself to cheer and I pretended to enjoy it. The twenty-fifth became the night when a new kind of cold touched my bones. It was the day the truth had crawled out at me like an animal. It was the day I had learned how much of my life had been decided by other hands.

Her mother's expression suggested suspicion but no proof. "Don't be late," her mother said. "Tomorrow's prayer meeting. The whole family needs to present a united front." "I won't be long." She drove the long way, parked three blocks over, and walked through shadows to Nelson's back door. He was waiting, pulled her inside before she could knock, and held her like she was oxygen. "I'm okay," she whispered against his chest. "I'm here. It's okay." But it wasn't okay. She felt him shaking, felt the tension radiating off him in waves. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were raw with exhaustion and something darker—despair.

To the outside world, he was every inch the mafia Don people whispered about. Mr. Holt gave Samantha a hard nudge on the shoulder. “Say yes, you idiot.” “Yes, Miss Knox,” Samatha said quickly. Her voice trembled. And in her eyes, there was only one thing left—fear. “Good,” I said, then gave a small nod to the maid. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to rest now.”

Ava chatted about school with Darla Hale, Uncle Cole's daughter, and Jamie fought over the largest piece of roast venison with Declan Hale, Uncle Cole's son. The Christmas feast covered the entire table. Everything from the roast venison to the mulled wine and the gingerbread house was a reminder of the festive occasion, which celebrated the warmth of being with one's family. They raised their glasses, wishing each other a Merry Christmas. The smiles had already returned to every face. It was as if my disappearance had been nothing more than a small footnote of the night. I hovered by the table, watching them with a hollow feeling in my heart. I was already dead—frozen solid out in the sub-z

I leaned against the wall and shook, reliving some of the worst hours of my life — and those hours had some stiff competition. The meaty thunk of a heavy blade striking made me jump, and I came out of it enough to see Luke the were-mountain dragging away the two parts of the revenant, a machete in his other giant hand. One down, seven to go. Nate came back down the stairs from the back door carrying a big bag of rock salt, muttering something about really, really being sick of having to see things getting their heads cut off. “I’m leaving the head on the Christmas turkey even if everyone thinks it’s gross,” he grumbled. “No, fuck that, I’m getting a ham. Are you coming?” he shot over his sho

Christmas Morning “Mommy!” Hailey hisses, shaking my shoulder. “Is Quinton awake?” I grumbled, not wanting to open my eyes yet. “Mama!” I felt little hands tapping my face. “Mama, up! Santa!” Landon says loudly. That’s right. It’s Christmas morning. We were up so late last night putting pieces of Hailey’s new doll house together, and setting up Landon’s new toddler roller coaster track around the living room that I forgot to set my alarm.

The voice was familiar. But familiarity meant nothing anymore. Everything was a lie. Everything was controlled. Another pair of boots entered my fading line of sight. More shadows. More men. Someone cursed. Someone said, “She’s still conscious.” Hands reached for me. I tried to fight. My arms wouldn’t obey. The last thing I saw before darkness swallowed me was Hailey’s small body being lifted by someone I could not see clearly enough to trust. Then the world went black. Brutal. Uncertain. No safety confirmed.

"Tell him whatever you think it is best 'cause I won't be showing up. If 'she is asleep' that comes to your mind, say it. Or 'she don't wanna come' it is fine by me, 'she doesn't want to see you' whichever way. I am not just coming." "Okay then." "Thank you as you do so," I plugged my earpiece, then laid back on bed. "Goodnight." **** (No! Whimpering! Darkness! Fire! Tears!) Noo! Not again! I pressed my back against the wall, folded up a leg, then I dug my finger into my hair. This is beyond me mum, dad! I can't handle this all alone. What is the secret behind this nightmare? *** The shadow was moving closer. It was following me all over again. This couldn't be Brad. That was not Brad. So wh