A visit from Satinclaus
A Christmas story with rhymes.
Trigger warnings: contains a mention of violence/abuse, not a Christian version of Christmas.
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Twas the dark before Christmas and all through the house, no creature scurried, not even the mouse. The clock had struck midnight and time had stood still. A darkness was rising below the fireplace syll.
TimTim was sleeping, snugged tight in his bed, dreaming of gifts and treats in his head. He awoke to a sound, so light and so round. A jingle, a tingle, a soft single bell, a sound joyous and swell. It came from down stairs in the living room. It must be Santa, TimTim would assume.
He peeked down the stairs, and saw his mother asleep on the couch, after her prayers. From the fireplace arose a black hat from the soot, it raised up and up at least by a foot. Then out came a man dressed in a midnight satin suit, over his shoulder hung a pearly sack bulging with loot.
Ash cloven hoof prints were left by the heels of his vegan leather knee high size tens as he slid across the floor, looking through a dark crimson red lens. He stopped at the tree, knelt down and pulled out gifts, one, two, and three.
On the couch mother stirred, and looked up at what she'd heard, but quick as a Mamba he pressed a finger to her lip. A soft “shh, please miss do not flip,” and his gaze flashed to the stairs, a wink to the boy and a “you'll wake TimTim and we both know he does not like scares.” He looked at mother again, using magic to help her back to sleep. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and said “Goodnight, sweet dreams, and do not weep.”
Then up again to the mantle he slipped, taking a red velvet cookie before disappearing back to his soot filled crypt.
-
The next morning TimTim jumped happily down each step, ready to tear through the gifts with a vigorous pep.
The first gift, clad in crimson satin, was a bike, shiny and red with handles in black, and a pearly white seat. The second made a sound far too sweet.
TimTim opened it with a quick rip. He found a black, red eyed pup, who tackled him with a bork and yip. He took the pups tiny paws, and with a huge smile he told it that he saw his mommy kissing Santa Claus. They played and played until, with a clipped knock at the door, mother awoke and answered the door for a bloke.
TimTim hid with his pup knowing what would come next. The man rose his voice about a text. There was a shriek and a slam as a bottle shattered on the wall. Then in came a man, full of anger as wide as he was tall. TimTim stared, frozen, through a teary gaze- Christmas should not be one of these days.
Just then a growl from the pup filled up the room, and he grew and grew, fast with a zoom. His snarl was loud, and his snort left an ashen cloud. With a snap and a crack the naughty man was devoured, as he screamed and he cowered.
-
Later that day TimTim gave his mother gift three. She opened it while the pup and TimTim played by the tree. Inside was a letter, that made everything better:
“Dear Satan,
this year has been hard, but we moved to a house with a yard. I know Christmas is not for awhile, but this year I only want a bike, a puppy, and to see my mom smile.”
Merry Christmas TimTim, may next year be less grim.