Author: Gary McLean. Gary is from Livingston, West Lothian. He is 30 years old and loves the works of Stephen King, Thomas Olde Heuvelt, John Avidje Lindqvist and Graham Masterton. He’s only been writing for the last couple of years and they tend to be in the horror genre.

Little Danny loved Christmas. It was his favourite time of year. He was seven years old, an only child to parents Greig and Linda and a spoiled one at that. Last Christmas he got a brand new bike, a PS5 and the full limited edition collection of his favourite Spider-Man comics. Along with his birthday, Christmas was his favourite time of year. Having no siblings meant that it was all about him. He didn’t have to share the spoils with anyone. He was a pretty switched on kid. He knew that Mum and Dad were grown ups and Santa wasn’t interested in them anymore. So that meant Santa would focus solely on Little Danny.

Danny lay in bed on Christmas Eve. Mum had told him to go to his bed at 9pm but he managed to stretch it out to 9:30pm. Dad was out with his friends at the pub which he seemed to be doing a lot more than working recently. Mum always seemed to get so angry at him lately too. Danny overheard her a few days ago on the phone to her friend calling Dad a ‘fucking waste of space’ and an ‘alki’. He didn’t know what that meant.

Mum was crying and said something about ‘cutting back on presents’.

He rolled over and looked at his Iron-Man alarm clock and it was 10:27pm. Santa would be here soon. It wasn’t long before Danny drifted off to sleep and dreamt of the new Avengers tower lego set he would no doubt be unwrapping in the morning.

Danny woke up at 6:48am. He whipped his covers off and sprang out of bed. He ran out of his bedroom and straight to Mum and Dads room. He threw open the door and bounced onto their bed.

‘Wake up! Wake up! It’s Christmas!’

Dad grunted and pulled the covers further up over his face. Mum slowly sat up and forced a smile.

‘Morning Danny.’ She pulled him in for a hug. ‘Are you excited to open your presents from Santa?’

‘Yeah! Let’s go, come on!’

He jumped off the bed. ‘Hurry! Dad, get up!’

Dad didn’t budge and Danny didn’t register the look Mum gave Dad just before she got out of bed. There was hatred in that look. Disgust and disappointment too. Something Danny would soon understand.

‘Come on, Danny,” Mum said. ‘Let’s see what Santa brought you’

Danny ran down the stairs and when he got to the living room door he stopped. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at. Every year he would come down and Santa had left the room covered with presents. Not this year.

Under the tree lay three presents. All relatively small. Too small to be the Lego set he was sure Santa would bring him. Mum reached the last step on the stairs.

‘Go on, go see what Santa brought you’.

Danny would never know the heartache Mum was feeling. She had worried for months. Every year they would go above and beyond to make sure their Little Danny would have an abundance of presents to open. But her husband of nine years had become a different person. He worked less and drank more. He’d lost his job at the bank, not to mention his 40k salary. He had been drinking on the job. Now he would do the occasional shift in the Tesco warehouse. Mum couldn’t bear to leave him. Danny loved his Dad and it would break both their hearts.

Danny trudged towards his presents under the tree. Mum followed close behind trying to hold back tears. Hopefully Danny would still find joy in his presents. He knelt down and picked one up. He held it in his hands, still mystified as to what was happening. Where were all the gifts? This wasn’t right.

‘Open it, Danny’ Mum pleaded.

Silently he tore off the wrapping paper. It was a Cadburys selection box, followed by a single Incredible Hulk comic. The final present hurt the most. It was an Avengers Tower lego set. But it was the mini version. The smallest one available.

Danny remained on his knees with the box in his hands. He sat there, silent. Mum standing behind him, dressing gown on. She took out a small tissue from the pocket and wiped a tear.

‘So Danny, was Santa good to you this year?’

Danny picked up the remaining presents. He got to his feet and turned to Mum. He could see she had been crying.

‘It’s ok, Mum,” he said as he hugged her. ‘It’s his fault. Santa. I hate him.’ Mum tried to mentally prepare herself for the worst Christmas Day of her life.

Christmas Eve – One year later

Mum came into the bedroom and caught Danny red handed playing with his toys. Captain America, his least favourite Marvel character, was getting a right good kick in from Chewbacca. His favourite Star Wars character.

‘Danny, it’s nearly ten o’clock! You should have been asleep an hour ago. Santa won’t come if you’re awake’.

Danny knew this. But Danny had too much adrenaline. He’d waited all year for this night. Ever since Santa messed up his presents last year he had been counting down the days. He planned to kill Santa and make him pay for ruining his Christmas. Not to mention making Mum cry. She’d had a really hard time this year. Dad was no longer living in the house and Danny hadn’t seen him since his birthday in June. He got really bad presents then too. Mum assured him it was Dad’s fault and it wouldn’t happen again. Dad left two days later.

‘Sorry mum. I’m just too excited!’

‘Oh I know, Danny. But please get back into bed. It’ll be worth it’

Danny put Steve Rogers and Han Solo’s co-pilot down and got back under the covers.

‘Goodnight Mum, I love you’

‘I love you too, my beautiful boy,” Mum replied and she bent down to give him a kiss. As she was leaving the room Danny said, ‘Don’t worry Mum, this will be the best Christmas ever.’

Mum smiled. She really hoped it would be.

Danny had tried, he really did, but he couldn’t sleep. It was 12:05 am. He slid his hand under his pillow and caressed the scissors. He’d been so patient, A whole year he had waited. Santa wouldn’t see it coming. There was something smoothing about the feel of the scissors. He stroked the steel. He ran his finger down the blade and carefully touched the tip, careful not to prick himself. The last thing he wanted was his bed sheets covered in blood. He didn’t want to give mum the extra work tomorrow. The feel of the scissors relaxed him and he felt himself drifting off to sleep.

Sleep came, but only briefly. Danny’s eyes snapped open and he sat up. Had he missed Santa? He looked at his clock. He’d only been asleep for ten minutes. He put his hand under his pillow and pulled the scissors out. Danny gave the scissors a gentle kiss and slid them back in their place. He felt ready. Should he attempt to sleep again? It wasn’t worth the risk.

The debate in his mind was cut short by a noise from downstairs. He could hear someone moving about. This was it. Santa was here. He took the scissors and got out of bed. He creeped into the hall and the noise increased. There was definitely someone downstairs. He opened Mum’s door, heart beating in his chest. He had to make sure it wasn’t her. He opened it enough just to poke his head in. She was fast asleep, snoring. With the most gentle of movements, Danny pulled her door shut.

The adrenaline raced through Danny as he smoothly began his descent downstairs.

With each placement of his foot, the stairs made a small creaking noise. Hopefully Santa would be preoccupied with the milk and cookies they’d left out. Danny didn’t think he deserved them, but he had to play the game.

As he approached the bottom, gripping the scissors tight in his right hand, he peered into the living room. There he was. Santa himself. He was placing a badly wrapped present under the tree. There were no other gifts. No sack. Nothing. Danny thought he was pathetic.

Any fear Danny had evaporated. He stood in the doorway of the living room. He lifted his right hand with the scissors in them and readied himself.

‘Santa’

The man in the red suit slowly turned, stumbling in the process. He faced Danny and his eyes widened.

‘Oh, Danny, my boy, I-’

‘This is for ruining Christmas and making my mum cry!’

Danny charged at him. Just before he plunged the scissors into his stomach, he was sure he heard him say something. Did he say Danny was being bad? Or something about Dad?

Danny didn’t have time to think before the scissors cut through the fabric of Santa’s suit and into his belly. He stumbled backwards and into the christmas tree, sending it toppling over, along with Santa. Danny wasted no time. He pulled the scissors from Santa’s stomach with ease and began repeatedly thrusting the knife back in. Santa tried to shield himself with his arms but they were sliced open. Along his forearms and into his hands. Santa’s famous white gloves were now a similar colour to his suit. Danny could barely hear his protests as he threw his arm back and forth, slicing into any part of the body he could reach. Santa kept shouting, ‘Danny, it’s me! It’s me!’ but it fell on deaf ears.

It lasted around twenty seconds. Danny had run out of energy. He stepped back, breath panting, and looked down at Santa. The man Danny hated was breathing in and out rapidly. He seemed to be crying.

‘I want you to apologise to me before I kill you’

‘Danny..’

‘Say it’

‘It’s me…Danny’

‘Say it!’

‘I’m sorry Danny, for everything’

Danny slowly strode over to Santa and got to his knees.

‘You ruined Christmas’

Danny stuck the scissors through Santa’s beard and into his neck. The blade punctured the skin and ripped open the Adam’s apple. Blood sprayed over Danny’s face and down Santa’s beard. Danny stepped back, admiring his work. Life drained from Santa’s eyes. He tried to speak but could only manage gurgling sounds. He raised his hand to his neck with a struggle. He grabbed hold of his beard and pulled. It came straight off. Through the blood Danny didn’t realise whose face was behind the fake facial hair. He stood there, triumphant. He had made amends for last christmas.

His victory was short lived however as Mum appeared in the doorway screaming Dad’s name.

Danny’s Dad had been at the pub. His whole life revolved around booze since being kicked out. He’d never stopped missing Danny. He wanted to give his son his present in person but Mum refused until he could prove he was sober.

This evening he’d lost a bet with a friend and had to dress up as Santa at the pub. They all teased him but it was good fun. After his tenth pint he decided it would be a good idea to break into the local bookshop and steal a comic book for his beautiful son. He then had the grand idea of dropping it off at his old house. He fortunately still had a key.

Danny would love it. His very own Father Christmas.

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