You better watch out, you better not cry..

Since I haven't posted anything creative for a couple of months, my last entry of the year is going to be a good ol' Christmas tale.

'Twas the Eve of Christmas day, little Mickey could barely contain his excitement. Every hour or so he would rush to a spot beneath the Christmas tree and check to see if his presents were still there. Sure enough, they didn't go anywhere each time he inspected.
    "Time for bed, Mickey" his mother called from atop the stairs. Mickey squealed with delight, Christmas was so close he could practically touch it! So he leaped to the staircase and merrily bounded up the steps. His father was waiting upstairs, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand.
    "Come on, kiddo, let's go brush our teeth. They need preparing for all the candy and chocolate tomorrow!" he chuckled. To the bathroom they went, then proceeded to brush in unison to the beat of 'Jingle Bells'.
    "Alright, off to beddy-byes now" Mickey's father tucked him in and kissed him softly on the forehead. "Now be a good boy and go to sleep, it would be a shame if you got onto Santa's naughty list right before Christmas!" So Mickey clenched his eyes shut whilst a beaming smile launched itself across his face. He remained this way for over an hour, too excited to fall into slumber, yet he had no intention of opening his eyes. But wait, what was this? Was sleep finding its way to him? Yes! He could feel his conscious letting go. It was only a matter of time before..
    "OY, SHITFACE, WAKE UP" his elder brother Dick was shaking him.
    "No! Dick! What are you doing?" Mickey was terrified that Santa would catch them awake and banish them to the naughty list. Well, obviously Dick was already on it, because he's a twat.
    "Mum said you have to take out the trash" Dick smirked.
    "But it's bedtime"
    "Do I look like I care, twerp? Get outside now!" he pulled out his balisong and twirled it in Mickey's face. "Don't make me cut you again." So Mickey pulled on his jacket, ran downstairs and dragged the contents of the bin out into the snow. A maniacal cackle could be heard as the door slammed shut behind, the click of the lock turning was followed by Dick whispering through the letterbox:
     "The only thing you're getting for Christmas is frostbite!" Mickey was terrified. It was so cold. He opened his mouth to call inside but the cold air hurt his lungs and nothing but a pitiful rasp came out. A rustle came from the bushes at the foot of the porch, soon enough there were rustles coming from every direction.
     "H-hello?" Mickey squinted through the darkness to see a tall figure emerge from the trees on the opposite side of the dirt track that led from Mickey's country home, a half hour's drive from the nearest occupied building. From the bushes crept a small, hunched figure. It let out a raspy sound and slithered on all fours towards the house, its limbs seemingly dislocating over and over as if it was the only way in which it could move. Gradually more and more figures appeared, until the entire garden was full of them. Mickey's eyes bulged and he fell backwards, scrambling to reach the front door. After trying the handle he collapsed into the fetal position and covered his eyes, mumbling to himself 'it's all a dream, it's all a dream'. A cold hand caressed his cheek, sending shivers all the way through his body. Mickey's curiosity caused him to open his eyes, and they were met with empty sockets. The face staring at him had no other features but it still managed to breathe slowly into Mickey's. He blinked once and the figure was gone, the whole garden was empty too. His heart was still pounding as he got up and tried the handle again. This time it opened and he rushed inside. After splashing his face with water he screamed at the top of his lungs
    "MAMA! PAPA! HELP ME!" his mother rushed out of her room.
    "Mickey, what is it?" she ran to the top of the stairs but then tripped and tumbled down. A deafening crunch was heard as the bones in her left leg snapped, tearing through her flesh to reveal a sharp, white fragment. Mickey gasped and ran up to her.
    "Honey, get mummy the hospital" she said remarkably calmly, although her voice quivered. Mickey dialed the emergency services and was met with Tubs, a chubby, bored, lonely, pissed off, pathetic loser who wished he could be home for Christmas to watch TV by himself.
    "Whadaya want, bud?"
    "My mummy fell down the stairs"
    "What do you want me to do about it?"
    "Send an ambulance, please"
    "Would you like fries with that, kid?" he joked, letting out a guffaw which scattered Doritos all over his desk. Before Mickey could say anything else he heard a scream from upstairs, so he dropped the phone, clambered over his mother after telling her he'd be right back and ran into his parents room, where the cry had sounded from. As he burst in, four heads turned his way. Two belonged to a couple of the hunched figures he had seen earlier, one belonged to a masked figure holding a small, sharp knife resembling  a scalpel and the last belonged to his father, whom the figures had pinned to his bed.
    "Mickey, get out of here!" his father cried, however it was difficult to distinguish because he was coughing up blood. The masked figure squealed in delight as it plunged the knife into Mickey's father once more. Mickey was fixed to the spot, too terrified to move. He couldn't stop them and he couldn't run either, so he was cursed to watch as the hunched figures playfully tossed his father's insides into the air.
    "I'm trying to work here, you fools!" the masked figure scolded the ugly creatures. His voice was hollow, as if he were speaking through a woodwind instrument. Mickey finally broke free of his paralysis when the masked 'man' slit his father's throat, letting blood spurt into the faces of the three figures. He rushed downstairs and into the living room. He panted for a moment, caught his breath and then slumped into a chair. Then it hit him. He hadn't met his mother on the way down the stairs. The large window that made up most of the wall behind him smashed open and, sure enough, his mother came swinging through it, hung from her neck. Shrill laughter erupted from somewhere on the roof. Mickey stared for a moment at his lifeless mother. A single tear slipped from his eye and rolled slowly down his cheek. He collapsed to his knees, cupping his face. But then the living room door burst open. At this point Mickey felt ready to accept his fate. However, it was Dick that appeared in the doorway.
    "Shitface! There you are! What's going on?" his smug grin had vanished, replaced by a genuine look of concern. Mickey was in too much of a state to respond, so he simply pointed behind Dick, who turned to see their mother hanging there. He threw up immediately, then collapsed into his pool of vomit. Mickey approached him slowly, knelt down beside him and embraced him. They stayed there for a moment. Several moments in fact. Eventually a burst of orange light showed itself from across the horizon. It was Christmas morning, time had apparently passed very quickly. Unfortunately, the Christmas spirit had somewhat left the two boys, so even when Santa stepped through the door to greet them they hardly seemed to care. He walked up, put a hand on Mickey's shoulder and handed him a present, his cheeks were rosy and his beard was magnificent. Mickey hesitated, then allowed a smile to emerge. He unwrapped the gift to find a toy cat. It was adorable, Mickey loved it. Santa then stood up, took a step back, then revealed a double-barrel shotgun from his sack. He fired both barrels into Dick's face, removing his head entirely. Mickey sat there, covered in remnants of Dick's head. Santa left the house, leaving Mickey alone, the stench of death all around him. In the background the figures that had haunted him for the entire night could be seen creeping back into the shadows. He looked down at his cat. Suddenly he didn't really want it, but before he could dispose of it the eyes started to flash; slowly at first but they began to flash increasingly more quickly. Mickey looked up, his eyes wide in shock. The cat burst into flames and then exploded, ripping Mickey to pieces and bringing down the house in an awesome display of firepower. Santa took some shades from under his hat, put them on and walked slowly back to his sleigh, the house exploding behind him.
    "Ho ho ho, motherfuckers."