Old St. Nick. Short Story. / Happy Holidays!

Hey guys,

wanted to wish everyone a happy holidays and I hope everyone is having a wonderful time!

– Alan


Old St. Nick. Short Story.

Nick watched the house until the last light went out, then he waited a little longer. After half an hour he quietly opened his car door and stepped out into the snow, he paused to grab his red sack then gently shut the door behind himself. It was a lovely area, large towering trees lined the street, it was hard to make out what kind of tree they were in the dark but from his daytime visits he thought they were some kind of oak. Christmas lights flashed and blinked up and down the street, carefully stuck to houses or artfully wrapped around trees. Though snow covered the gardens he knew that the grass would be perfectly manicured and the flowerbeds would be perfectly tended come spring. He crossed the road, snow crunching underfoot and made his way down the side of the house and over the tall wall that blocked the front garden from the back. The back garden was a wide open space, trees lined the walls, blocking the neighbours from peering in. He was tempted to walk across the fresh, virginal snow but he restrained himself, maybe later, on his way out.

The decking was covered in snow which was thick enough to provide traction, wouldn’t do to take a nasty fall out here. He paused at the backdoor, long enough to pull a key from his pocket, he slid it into the lock and he turned it. The door opened with a faint but satisfying click, he eased it open slowly, if he pushed it too quickly it would make a single, high pitched shriek. The kitchen was dark and the warmth of the house washed over him. He wiped his feet on the mat then stepped onto the marble tiles. He crept across the kitchen and went into the sitting room. A tree was set up in one corner, covered in decorations and lights that sparkled faintly in the soft street light from outside, he could just make out the outline of presents stacked neatly beneath it. He moved to the fireplace, not bothering to turn on any lights, he’d been here enough to walk through the house blindfolded. At the fireplace he picked up the glass of milk, beside it was a plate with a few cookies and a carrot, he carried the milk back out of the sitting room, careful that it didn’t slip through his gloved fingers, in the kitchen he emptied the glass into the sink. He returned the empty glass to the sitting room then picked up the carrot and broke it in half, slipping half into his pocket and putting half back on the plate, before he grabbed a handful of cookies. Munching on one he shoved the rest into his pocket as he moved from the sitting room and began to climb the stairs. On the landing he glanced out the window and saw snow was starting to fall again, smiling he turned from the window and moved down to the fourth door on the left. He eased the door open, it opened smoothly now, gone was that annoying creak, it only took a little bit of oil applied during one of his previous visits. He could see Bob and Kelly beneath the blanket, two softly breathing lumps. They would look so innocent in their slumber, he knew that from previous visits too. But they weren’t innocent, they were quite firmly on his naughty list. He put his sack onto the ground and reached around inside for a second before pulling out a thick metal pipe. He had to be quick, in and out, that was the rule. He raised the pipe above his head and with a soft grunt brought it down hard on Kelly’s head. It connected with a heavy crack, Kelly didn’t move. Beside her Bob was starting to stir, not fully aware of what was happening just yet. Nick swung the pipe again, connecting squarely with Bob’s temple. There was a meaty thud this time, Bob’s eyes opened, he moaned something as he struggled against the blankets, Nick swung again and again, grunting with each strike, feeling the warm blood splash across his face. When he finished his white gloves and cuffs matched the red of his suit, his white beard was stained with gore. Breathing heavily he placed the pipe back into his sack, then he picked it up and left the room, closing the door gently as he went. On the landing he paused and listened, there were no sounds in the house, the kids were still sleeping. Good, what ever their parents had done, they were still innocent. He went down the stairs and out through the backdoor, not bothering to relock it behind himself.

Outside he breathed in deeply, enjoying the cold fresh air, snow was falling heavily now, great thick flakes that made everything look clean, new. He pulled the pipe from his bag and smiling to himself, swung it around the white snow covering it in splashes of red. Almost as soon as he was finished the blood was covered by snow. He climbed over the wall and quickly made his way across the street. He got into his car and stripped out of his clothes, he pulled the Santa beard from his face and shoved it into the sack, along with the wire glasses and the Santa costume he had been wearing. Once he was stripped and mostly cleaned he put on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a heavy jumper. Shivering in the cold he turned on the car, put the heating on full blast, then pulled out, it wouldn’t be long before the snow had filled in the tire tracks, it was supposed to snow until the morning. He flicked on the radio and found some Christmas music and singing along to it he drove off into the night.

About Alan James Keogh

I am a 26 year old writer who somehow tricked U.C.D. into giving me not only a degree in English and Classical studies, but an Hons Masters in Creative Writing too. Visit my blog where I post short stories twice a week (Monday and Wednesday) and an installment of a serialised novel on Fridays. I did consider writing this in the third person, as though it was written by someone else, but Alan is not comfortable writing in the third person as it seems kinda creepy and unbalanced so Alan decided it was probably best to write in the first person. He hopes it went well for him.
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