Folklore
By S. L. Edwards
By S. L. Edwards
He put out so many lights around the
cabin. The lights were colorful, glittering, joyous and all that good holiday
bullshit. He had a snowman that waved, a reindeer with a red glowing nose and a
green wreath that flickered like a pond in the sun. But there was no sun, this
was the darkest time of the year, when the world seemed to hurtle through space
a little longer.
It
was no coincidence the old Christians moved their holiday to this time of year.
Justin had seen the true face of winter, the evil that seeps out from between
the cracks of blackness between the stars, the howling monstrosities that were
contained in human memories only as “legends” and etchings in old books. Every step
in human civilization had culminated in the invention of the lightbulb, and
Justin had been curious (or foolish) enough to try and peak behind the false
security curtain of civilization. Moving Christmas was about countering, not converting.
It had been one whole year since he lost
his family last Christmas. The only thing that kept him going now was his
mutinous sense of self-preservation.
His little ten acre plot was covered
in lights, strung up in brilliant spider webs through the trees to make up for
the absence of nighttime stars. Everything was terribly, awfully still as snow
seemed to accumulate out of nowhere on the ground. Nothing fell, and nothing
spoke save for the slow, nervous tapping of an awkward clock.
The moment dawn came he would be
safe. He could go back home, no one would get hurt.
A little lamp next to him went out.
He felt sweat underneath his hair, scratching across every part of him like
stinging-rat claws. He heard himself sobbing pathetically, scared to death of
the prospect of living this night every year for the rest of his life. Outside,
the darkness was at bay, but no dark corner would do for Justin. He took a bulb
from the pile of cartons on the living room table. His hands were shaking, and
with muted curses he finally managed to screw the thing in. He turned the lamp
on.
There was a loud hiss.
Each light went out at once.
The instant change was too much; he couldn’t see his
hands in front of his face! He clawed at the floor and recited every prayer
spell that he had memorized since the year before, each syllable streaming
together into one pitiful, meaningless mad sound.
With nothing to hold it back, the growling came from
across the sightless room. There was a heavy, husky-horse breathing that filled
the air. There was the scraping of something long and sharp against the floor. He
could smell the wet fur, the still bleeding wound that he had given IT last
year.
There was an electric hum and whirr as the lights
exploded to life. Justin laughed hysterically, seeing that he was alone in his
cabin.
When they went out again, he wasn’t.
