Glass Laugh
Fiction Gift Exchange: Christmas Horror
To:
From: Keith
They say that a picture is worth a 1,000 words, so I painted one for you using exactly that many, and in tribute to the queen of 100 word micro fiction — I did it through ten 100 word micro stories. I hope you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing it. Merry Christmas, from lil ole me.
(100 words)
Jake rolled over and opened his eyes, feeling well rested for the first time in 5 years. He blindly reached for his phone, smacked his hand on the dresser, winced, then checked the time. 8:13am. He groggily widened his eyes, surprised that Ollie hadn’t woken them at his usual 5:30 time — then he remembered it was Christmas. Jake rolled back over and gently nudged Megan awake, “Babe, we gotta get up — it’s after 8.”
They woke up, got ready, and Jake went downstairs to begin cooking the Christmas hotcakes. Megan went into Ollie’s room, but he wasn’t there.
(100 words)
His little slippers were gone, and the dinosaur covers thrown back. He was probably downstairs groping the presents. Bleary-eyed, Megan followed the sound of sizzling batter downstairs, finding Jake humming at the griddle. Megan looked around, “Where’s Ollie?”
Jake didn’t turn around or stop bouncing to an unheard song, “I thought he was with you?”
Megan’s stomach coiled up, ready to pounce on old fears, “No, he wasn’t in his bed. I assumed he was down here with you.”
Jake turns, puzzled, “No, I haven’t seen him. Maybe he’s in the bathroom?”
Ollie wasn’t there, or anywhere in the house.
(100 words)
Ollie was dreaming of the paw patrol toy he wanted so bad, when he woke to a jingling sound. He came, Santa was here! Ollie slid into his shark slippers and crept to his bedroom door. He could hear Santa’s big heavy boots in the living room, and the rustle of presents. He had to see if he brought the paw patroller — it was what he asked for in his letter, and he’d been so good! He moved soundlessly down the carpeted stairs, his feet ensconced in shark mouths. When he saw Santa, Ollie wondered why he wasn’t wearing red.
(100 words)
The frantic 911 call came after every nearby door had been knocked on and all the increasingly unlikely explanations had been considered. Every question was met with the same immutable answer: No, they hadn’t seen Ollie. No, he didn’t sleepwalk. No, no sign of forced entry. No, nothing was missing from the house. No, nobody would want to hurt him. No, he wasn’t unhappy. No, he hadn’t expressed a wish to run away. No, nobody had a spare key— “wait, didn’t your dad?”
Megan’s face paled at Jake's reminder, “Yeah, but he wouldn’t…”
“You don’t know what he’d do anymore.”
(100 words)
Ollie held the big man’s hand as they walked away from the house, staring up at him intensely. The man smelled like the burning stuff mommy put on his cuts. “You’re not Santa.”
The big man looked down and his smile was crooked. “No, I’m mnot. But I’m sonthim better.” The man crouched in a wobble, pulling slightly on Ollie’s arm for support. Ollie didn’t say anything, just stared into his eyes. They reminded Ollie of a brown M&M in whip cream, the candy coating melting into the white. “I’m your grampaw.”
His breath smelled like fire and candles.
(100 words)
Megan cried softly into Jake’s black coat, barely able to get close because of how far along she was. They stood in front of the impersonal granite marker as the other mourners left. Her father gripped the tough rubber rims of his wheelchair wheels, pushing them forward to approach her. Megan gazed down at him coldly, tears freezing in her eyes. “What do you want?”
Walter looked down at the cast on his leg, “Just wanted to say how… sorry… I am.”
She laughed like glass, “You killed my daughter. Sorry isn’t enough. Go to hell…”
Jake guided her away.
(100 words)
Ollie sat in the front seat and stared at mister grandpa. They drove very slowly and mister grandpa talked a lot and cried too. He said he just wanted to meet Ollie, and that Christmas should be spent with family. He sounded like daddy after the dentist, his words all puffy. Mister grandpa kept calling him Layla, and Ollie thought maybe he was lost and scared, so he held mister grandpa’s hand like mommy sometimes did. Now mister grandpa cried a lot, every time he looked at Ollie. The car stopped and Ollie looked out the window, seeing a graveyard.
(100 words)
Megan and Jake held each other in the police station, dusting off old prayers and crying quietly. They had told the cops the whole story, and someone had thought to go check the grave. A sound broke from Megan and Jake held her close, his own face red and wet. She had excised Walter from her mind 5 years ago, after what he did, but now she was forced to think about him. She was terrified to think what he might do and every second waiting was an infinite agony. Incongruous Christmas music played from somewhere and Megan felt sick.
(100 words)
Snow fell on the windshield, liquifying from the heat and crying it’s way down in thick streaks, sorry for what it had done. The car hissed and smoked from it’s soda-can crumpled hood. Walter coughed in pain, but Layla didn’t move. The road was a white board with 4 black lines of marker drawn across it leading to the tires of the car. The guardrail warped outward around the crumpled hood, an unbreakable finish line. Walter tried to move, gripped his leg in agony, then called to Layla. She didn’t respond. When the ambulance finally arrived, Walter was still screaming.
(100 Words)
Mister grandpa told Ollie a long story, and Ollie listened. Mister grandpa said that Layla was out there in the graveyard. Ollie looked but didn’t see her. He was hard to understand sometimes with his fuzzy lips, but Ollie listened. Mister grandpa said he killed Layla in a car crash, and that’s why he talks funny. He said mommy didn’t want to see him, so mister grandpa brought presents in the night like Santa. But Ollie came downstairs and mister grandpa saw him and got very sad and started to cry, and that’s why Ollie went with him — to help.
Damn. This hit me in all the feels. Nice work.
ooooph. a beautiful twist from anticipated horror to gut wrenching sadness and hope for the redemptive power of a child's naiive love and lack of judgement. really good writing Keith.