Santa Claus Stories 소설 & 이야기

A man hit by a car in New York in 1977 got up uninjured, but lay back down in front of the car when a bystander told him to pretend he was hurt so he could collect the insurance money. The car then rolled forward and crushed him I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Curious? All right, if you promise to keep my secret I’ll tell you…here goes: I want to be fucked by Santa. Oh, c’mon, you know deep down you want it, too. I mean, he’s a guy who always knows what you want, his big bulky body has to be fairly strong to handle all those reindeer and he drives a freakin’ magic sleigh! That’s hawt, if you ask me. And those white whiskers and long, flowing beard…I shudder just to think of those whiskers tickling me in soft and pink places.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Laya this happy. You really made her Christmas with this.” Jordan shifted carefully, adjusting his arm beneath Malaya so she wouldn’t stir. His expression softened, something open and almost boyish crossing his face. “I’d do anything to see her smile like that.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “How do you usually spend the holidays?” “Well…” Laila began, her tone thoughtful as memories drifted to the surface. “Some years, my family comes to us. Other years, we come back here. It’s always a little chaotic, a little loud.” A faint smile curved her lips. “She stopped believing in Santa when she was six. Told me she knew Santa wasn’t real because she caught me wra

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!"

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

What was done was done. Now, if that wasn’t weird enough. This Yule was a holiday, and it sounded pretty cool. Like Christmas for a full two weeks! Presents, winter fun, no school, and family. He’d been told this morning that his new family would be coming back with even more people. His Mom seemed happy, and his new Dad did too, sort of. He wasn’t sure he wanted the whole pack and all these people in the packhouse for the next two weeks. So it was going to be fun to find out why. They didn’t have Santa Claus, not like most people knew him. He was called the Holly King, and he ruled winter. There was a feast coming up on December 21, and he was curious and a little excited about it bec

"You walked into a private club room, ended up in bed with a ruthless crime lord, and you didn't even bother to check who he was before letting him touch you!" "Wait—wait, stop!" I stammered, my hands shaking as I grabbed Donald's arm. "You're joking, right? Donald, please tell me you're lying to make fun of me. Tell me this is a joke!" "Does my face look like I'm joking?!" Donald snapped. He walked over to his table, picked up his phone, typed rapidly on the screen, and shoved the phone screen right in front of my face. There on the screen were several news articles, all about the man from last night—Callan Santiago. His face appeared in picture after picture, while the headlines linked him

The last thing she wanted was to make a scene and ruin the image of Santa for them. “Where’s Marcos?” Santa asked, reaching into a bag. He pulled out a bright shiny red sled, handing it to her bright-eyed student. “Where’s Anna?” Santa asked, looking around. Again, another one of Holly’s students. “Here, Santa,” said the small girl, looking up hopefully. He handed her a giant bin of Legos and the poor girl looked like she was about to pass out. “Oh, Santa,” she cried. “How did you know? This is exactly what I wanted!”

“You have a grandmother?” “Yes, but back to santa. I do believe him, and he comes in the New Year with a female sidekick called the Snowmaiden,” Alexander told her. ‘But you can celebrate Christmas any way you want while you’re with me. I didn’t even know the festival existed until I went to live with my grandmother.”

For example, while 4-year-old Pearl still believes Santa Claus will actually sneak into her house through the chimney, Ely can already tell the difference between fairy tales and reality. (FLASH IN: A week before Christmas) "Santa Claus is just a character in a story. There is no Santa Claus in this world. The Santas you see at amusement parks and malls, they're all staff dressed up in costumes." Ely said calmly, holding a Christmas gift. Lydia was surprised. She had put the presents in Ely's Christmas stocking last night, hoping that Ely would be happy when he found them on Christmas Day. Lydia remembered that she had believed in Santa Claus when she was 12 years old, which made her a littl