Cookies for Santa Claws

by Chanelle Loftness


“You better not cry,” the creature croons.

I lie on the kitchen table. The Christmas lights that bind me dig into my skin. They send colours dancing across the kitchen’s walls and illuminate the creviced face of the sharp-toothed and horned creature standing over me.

“You better not pout.” Its sharp talons cut another piece of my flesh.

Wide-eyed, I scream around the Christmas stocking in my mouth.

It places the flesh on the cookie sheet by the others, dusting them with cinnamon and sugar, before sliding the sheet into the oven.

It continues singing as it grabs another cookie sheet.

Chanelle Loftness

Chanelle Loftness is a Seattleite who spent eleven years in San Francisco and now calls Chicago home. She was adamant that she wrote fantasy until the kind readers in a writing workshop emphatically told her she was writing horror; she argues there is a lot of overlap.

Twitter: @chanelleloftnes

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