by Warren Benedetto
There was something on the roof.
The children huddled behind the couch, their tearful eyes glistening in the warm glow of the Christmas lights. The house shook with each heavy footfall thudding overhead. Plaster dust drifted from the ceiling like snow. A low growl echoed down the chimney, followed by the metallic scraping of a heavy blade.
“What was that?” Annie whispered, her voice trembling.
“I don’t know,” Joshua sobbed. “Do you?”
He directed the question at the fat man in the red suit cowering behind the couch next to them.
Santa shook his head, his eyes wide with fear.