Silent Night, Unholy Night
The night cracked sharp with children’s laughter,
mugs of cocoa steaming,
breath clouding the air
between houses strung with fallen stars.
Pine and gingerbread—
their carolers ambled down the street
until the trees swallowed them whole.
Let’s try O Holy Night,
Lily shouted, cheeks burning,
adjusting her scarf with its white snowflakes.
Only if you stop butchering the high notes,
Mark teased,
blue eyes full of mischief.
Hey! I’ve been practicing.
They crept toward a clearing
where pines loomed black against the sky,
where candlelight flickered wrong,
where shadows whispered
things that didn’t belong to Christmas.
What’s that?
The breath stopped in Sarah’s throat.
Cloaked figures circled a bonfire.
Their faces were swallowed by hoods
that ate the light.
The air went thick,
went wrong—
so different from the joy they’d carried
just minutes ago.
Oh my God,
Mark breathed,
his bravado evaporating.
Is that—are they—
It looks like a ritual,
Lily murmured,
leaning closer despite herself.
Why would anyone do this?
On Christmas Eve?
Maybe they’re really into Christmas,
Sarah managed,
her voice shaking.
Yeah, because nothing screams Merry Christmas
like a sacrifice to the dark lord.
Mark’s voice dripped sarcasm
even as he edged backward.
A dagger rose,
blade catching firelight,
a malevolent star.
The chant that rose
was guttural, serpentine,
sliding through the frozen air.
They’re chanting!
Lily grabbed Sarah’s arm,
fingers digging in.
We need to go. Now.
But turning to run,
their laughter echoed hollow—
mocking them for ever believing
in holiday cheer.
Snow crunched beneath their feet
like a drumbeat counting down.
Wait!
Mark hissed.
What if they see us?
We can’t just bolt.
Are you crazy?
Lily’s voice crept toward panic.
We’re not staying to find out.
Fine.
His bravado cracked.
On three?
Three.
They ran.
Wild, nervous laughter
bubbled up between gasps—
absurd, surreal,
three carolers sprinting for their lives
through a Christmas nightmare.
I can’t believe we stumbled
into a demonic holiday party!
Sarah wheezed.
Next year I’m staying home,
Mark panted,
shaking his head.
Binge-watching. Every year.
Right, Lily gasped.
No more caroling for me.
A growl tore through the dark behind them,
ice-cold terror flooding their veins.
One glance, panicked,
and they pushed forward into the night—
fear and friendship fueling every step.
The main street broke open
like waking from a fever dream.
Christmas lights.
Car horns.
Laughter.
Warmth.
I swear,
Mark breathed,
leaning on a lamppost,
if anyone asks why I celebrate Christmas,
I’ll tell them I escaped
becoming a sacrificial offering.
Let’s survive this season first,
Lily said,
mock-serious before the giggles broke through.
And beneath the twinkling lights,
their laughter rang out—
defiant, ridiculous,
three voices refusing the dark.
Joy survived
even here,
even now,
on this Silent Night turned Unholy Night.