by Blaise Langlois

The note, propped up against a plate of cookies, read: For Santa. No persuasion was required—St Nick had come to expect such delicacies. After washing down the treats with a tall glass of milk, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He considered the remaining crumbs but doubled over in agony, as a searing pain tore through his abdomen. A foul stench erupted from him and he projectile vomited, covering himself and the floor in Christmas red. Behind the chair, the young girl smiled as “I Caught Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” played softly in the background.

Blaise Langlois

Emerging author, Blaise Langlois, will never turn down the chance to tell a creepy story. You are sure to find her writing in between teaching and raising four beautiful children, or feverishly scratching out ideas (which to the chagrin of her supportive husband, usually occurs just after midnight).