Novel & Cerita Scary Christmas Stories

— I promise if you eat me on all fours. —Manu, you pervert. I'll get you hot,— he chuckled. I was willing to keep my promise and suggested I go to his house. I wanted to see every expression on his face and the reaction of his body when he was reading. All my stories were about him, but there was one in particular that I had written after he returned to Brazil. This one I wanted to read along with him. I could already picture myself sitting on the bed, with him behind me, feeling his hand touching me as I read about my perverted doctor. He would love this story.

Any act of kindness out here was worth acknowledging. Soon enough, they started to talk. Stories, some funny, others dark. One spoke of a creature that prowled these woods, an ancient spirit that hunted lonely travellers and fed on their voices. Another swore that he once saw a woman in white walking just beyond the trees, her eyes hollow, her fingers covered in blood. The rider shivered and moved closer to me. But I didn’t move. I only listened, watched, and tried to determine whether these stories were meant to entertain us or warn us.

As I watched the grim expressions on my in-laws' faces and Louis' evasive gaze, I suddenly realized I'd truly had enough of Mom. … For some reason, Mom always found it entertaining to spread rumors about me and belittle me in front of others. When I was a child, she'd accused me of stealing. Then, later on, at my college graduation, she fabricated stories of me having an affair with one of my professors on the spot. I barely had any friends growing up. Everyone avoided me like the plague. Every time I caught Mom in one of her lies, she would show no remorse. She claimed she was only joking, and that she didn't know everyone else would take what she said so seriously.

“Daddy will chase the monster away.” The basement stairs creaked under my weight. The air grew damp and cold, carrying the familiar smell of concrete and forgotten Christmas decorations. I swept the beam across dusty shelves, old furniture covered in sheets, and stacks of boxes labeled “C9” in black marker—my wife’s obsessive filing system for holiday stuff. Nothing. No glowing eyes, no claws, no growling shadows. Just silence and cobwebs. “Nothing here, Lily!” I called up the stairs, my voice echoing slightly. “Just junk. Come down tomorrow and I’ll show you.”

Tara added. “Anything else?” he asked flatly. “No,” Tara said cheerfully. “Just extra sugar for the coffee, thank you.” He didn’t smile. As they waited, Tara leaned closer. “Why does he look like someone stole Christmas from him personally?” Melody laughed. “Because everyone else is having fun and he’s stuck working.” “But I work during Christmas too,” Tara said. “And I don’t look like that.” “You save lives,” Melody reminded her. “He saves us from hypothermia.” Tara laughed just as a voice called out

It read, in big block print, “Santa’s Workshop.” “Right,” Serendipity nodded, realizing that if she could read, she would have known that. Her face lost a bit of the glimmer from before, but she still stared in awe. “How amazing!” she whispered, looking up at several stories of glass windows and the brightly dressed elves scurrying about with various toys, different patterns of wrapping paper, and other items essential to making and finishing off Christmas presents.

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Please. Dani: I'm embarrassed. I rolled my eyes. Linc: Because you freaked out? Everyone freaks out. Shit, I was afraid of the dark until I was fifteen because my mom used to tease me that some crazy man was going to steal me away. She made me afraid of Santa, Dani. What kind of monster makes you hate Christmas? Dani: That's horrible!

Before I could respond, headlights swept across the front windows. Silence immediately filled the room. My father straightened. My mother smoothed her hair. And somehow my own pulse became deafening. A car door shut outside. Then another. The front gate clicked softly in the distance. For one insane second, I actually considered running. The knock came three beats later. My father practically rushed to open it. Cold winter air flooded the foyer first. “Merry Christmas,” he said warmly as he stepped inside, snow melting slowly from the shoulders of his dark coat.

Not presents. Shaking, I went back to my room and opened my laptop. The NoSleep subreddit was always active late at night, a place for people all over the world to share their terrifying experiences. I started typing. Title: My 5-year-old sister saw "Santa," but her description is terrifying. Help.