27 Nov A Season to Dismember
“A Season to Dismember”
Written by Raz T. Slasher Edited by Craig Groshek and N.M. Brown Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek Narrated by N/ACopyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).
🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available
⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 10 minutes
Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. For me, it has never been about the money spent, no, it’s about the love and joy you share with those around you. It’s about charity and goodwill towards mankind, as the saying goes. Nothing is more important than staying off that dreaded naughty list though.
It began like every other holiday season. Christmas trees and lights were going up and festive music was dominating every major department store. I was back at the mall with a few friends of mine from work for another round of early shopping. We made our purchases and donations before splitting up and heading to our respective homes. I was living with my partner Stanley at the time and couldn’t wait to get home and show him all the early shopping I’d already finished with. He’d been out of town on a business trip for the last week and I wanted to surprise him. I pulled out of my parking lot and headed home, blasting the usual CD of various Christmas songs that I always kept in the car. I made it home just as he was coming in from the airport; talk about perfect timing!
We spent some time hanging out and talking about his trip and what I had been doing while he was gone. Then we munched the hell out of our dinners, leaving little behind in our ravenous wake. I’d somehow conned him into a relaxing night of laying on the couch and watching Christmas movies. It was one of several little marathons I’d con him into during the holiday season.
The way it worked is that we’d each pick a movie, then pick a third together. I knew I was in for a lot of punishment when he’d chosen the Star Wars Christmas Special but that was nothing that a joint couldn’t solve. I’d decided to get a little payback on him when I chose Santa Claus Conquers the Martians! After a lengthy debate on whether Nightmare Before Christmas was a Halloween movie or a Christmas movie, we settled on it as our collective choice. Listen up people, the movie starts as Halloween ends and focuses on Christmas. Watching it for Halloween is like when Walmart puts out the Christmas decorations in September.
With the popcorn and hot chocolate ready, we’d settled down on the couch to watch the Star Wars Christmas Special. We groaned and laughed when it was merited, but after 20 minutes, he regretted the torment that he’d inflicted upon the both of us. By the time it was over, we were both thankful.
We stood to stretch and take turns in the bathroom afterward. Then we got some refills of hot chocolate and popcorn for the next movie. Just as we were settling back in on the couch to continue our little marathon, we both received a push notification on our cells from a news app that read:
“A suspect in a Santa costume continues to evade police after murdering eight people with an ax in Dayton, Ohio. The attacks began at the local Mall last Sunday and have since continued to private residences throughout the week… Little is known about the suspect, but they are considered armed and dangerous. If you see a Santa engaged in suspicious activity, dial 911 immediately.”
I was concerned but Stanley shrugged it off. “Nothing we need to worry about tonight. I’m sure the police will catch them soon enough,” I sighed and acquiesced. “You’re probably right. I’d feel safer if we kept the porch lights on tonight though.”
He chuckled faintly and slipped off the couch, moving to the outside light switch and flipping it on. He settled back in next to me and I got the next movie started; Santa Claus Conquers the Martians! It’s a truly terrible movie, but it’s still better than that damned Star Wars Christmas special!
We cuddled up, both moaning and groaning at my awesomely terrible movie decision. It was a lot of fun though, just spending time on the couch with Stanley. We were both so busy all the time, so it was nice to finally have some time to ourselves. Just as the movie was ending, we received another alert on our phones. It read as follows:
“Police are still on the hunt for a person dressed as Santa that’s been killing unsuspecting victims with an ax throughout the week. The authorities have discovered additional bodies in nearby Riverside, Ohio, bringing the death toll up to eleven. They appear to be no closer to an arrest at this time. Once again, keep your eyes peeled and remember to dial 911 if you see anything suspicious.”
That sent a shock wave of fear through me; we lived in Riverside. I hopped off the couch and ran to the front door. I pulled the curtains aside on our front bay window and peered up and down the street. It had started snowing, but there was no sign of anyone milling about; just the occasional car now and again. While I felt a little better, the fear was still there.
Stanley joined me at the window, wrapping his arms around me. “We’re gonna be okay sweetie, I promise.” I balked at that. “How do you know that? I’m sure those eleven people this person has killed felt exactly the same way!”
He squeezed me a little tighter. “Would it make you feel better if I did a perimeter check just to be sure?” I nodded at that, turning to look up into his eyes. “Do you think that’s wise? I mean, what if that maniac is waiting just outside the door with an ax?”
He chuckled faintly. “I’ll be right back.”
I was torn between being worried for his safety and being pissed that he wasn’t taking this seriously. I followed him to the back door and watched him pull on his coat and walk outside. I followed his progress around the house as best I could, going from window to window to check on him.
10 minutes later he walked in through the back door with a fine coating of snow. He shrugged off his coat and flashed me an award-winning smile. “See? Nothing to worry about. No one’s even outside at all. I turned on the garage light just to be safe.” I nodded at his words, feeling much better about the situation.
I turned the TV input over to cable to check the news before we watched our last movie of the night, just to be safe. There was a live news report in progress on channel 7, so I turned the volume up. There was a woman in a power suit standing in front of a camera outside near the local high school.
“With the death toll now up to eleven, we can only hope there will soon be an end to the madness. Again, we’re urging everyone to stay indoors until this person is caught. They were last sighted near Stebbins Highschool in the Valley Plat area. Cops are out patrolling en masse. Stay tuned for more updates.”
The video went back to the anchor desk at the studio before they moved on to the weather report. I glanced over at Stanley. “That’s only five blocks away from here.” He nodded to me solemnly. “Getting close, that’s for sure. We just have to do as they advised and stay indoors until it all blows over.”
I was on edge. They weren’t reporting the names of the victims yet… Suddenly, I realized we forgot to lock the doors!. I jumped up and startled Stanley. “We have to lock the doors and windows!” He swiftly joined me and we split up, locking every door and window on our respective sides of the house. When we were done we returned to the living room, plopping back onto the couch.
Stanley was the first to speak up. “I just realized something.” I rose a brow at him. “What?” He sighed heavily and jumped to his feet. “The door to the basement outside, I left it unlocked earlier!” I cringed at that. That door led straight down into the basement, and from there it was an easy walk up the stairs to the kitchen. Suddenly we heard a loud crash in the basement, and I darted behind Stanley. “What do we do?” Stanley grabbed the fire poker from its spot next to the fireplace and cast his gaze towards the kitchen. “Stay here, I’m going to check it out.”
I grabbed one of his arms firmly. “Shouldn’t we just call the cops?” Stanley shook his head. “If it’s nothing I don’t want to waste their time. They’re on a manhunt after all.” I still didn’t like this train of thought at all. “Shouldn’t we at least go together?” He sighed and shook his head again. “No, if someone IS down there I need you to be ready to dial 911.”
I supposed that made some sense, but I still didn’t like it. Reluctantly I let go of his arm and watched him creep into the kitchen. I heard Stanley open the door from the kitchen to the basement and lethargically descend the stairs. It was an old staircase we’d been meaning to update, so you could easily hear every thump and creak of the boards. I stayed next to the fireplace to give myself some distance. Any moment of time I could buy myself would be more than beneficial if something were to go wrong. I damn near jumped out of my skin when I heard another loud crash from the basement, closely followed by Stanley letting out a scream. “SON OF A BITCH!” I screamed back to him, “What’s wrong?!”
Every millisecond of silence that passed sent fear tingling up my spine. I was ready to run down there before he shouted out once again. “Just some damn raccoons babe!”
But I knew, and I grinned to myself. I turned on the kitchen radio just in time to catch “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” I paused for a moment, thinking it odd that this particular song had been playing at each place I’d visited. I shrugged it off and pulled the old blood-drenched ax from the walk-in pantry he never looked in. I had just enough time to don the Santa costume too before he made it back up the stairs. When I saw his head enter the doorway up into the kitchen, I leveled that ax and swung for the fences. Blood and bits of bone exploded all over the Frigidaire. Stanley had been a very naughty boy.
I took off the mask and relaxed back into my recliner, flipping the TV back on and turning up the volume. I was just in time for the eleven-o-clock news; the male anchor already launching into the top headline.
“We’ve been following this story all week. Someone dressed as Santa Claus has been on a blood-filled rampage throughout our town. We can now report the names of some of the victims. The first body found was an elderly mall Santa named Eric Ballsey. He was found behind the Sears at the Dayton Mall. It’s from him we believe the suit was taken.”
The suit was a little big on me, and I’d had to add a new notch on the fly to tighten the belt around my waist. I distinctly remember the guy smelling of cheap liquor. I’d even noticed him taking money from the collection stand and slipping it into his own pocket!
“The next few victims have caused big shocks to the local community. A true loss, for sure. It was our own Mayor Rydelle, his wife Amy Rydelle, and his top advisor Matthew Smith.”
Mayor Rydelle had always been a vicious little man. He was a known racist and bigot. How he became Mayor in the first place was something many of us had wondered about. I’d found out just last week that it was due to a series of well-placed bribes that had earned him his lofty position. His wife and advisor weren’t any better. I’d eased myself into his home through the backdoor this past Wednesday after a town hall meeting and waited in his bedroom closet. I caught the three of them engaging in the most depraved sexual activities you can imagine. Needless to say, they were very naughty indeed!
“The next victim was Albert Stone, a local man convicted of rape just last year.”
A self-explanatory victim. That trial was a notorious one around the area. A few mistakes had been made by the police, and the whole case ended up being dismissed. He’d taken to strutting around town after that, and we all hated him for it. Naughty, naughty, naughty!
“Multiple bodies were also found at Stebbins High School. Their names are Jonas and Evelyn Stark, Jerry Riggers, and Shane Dempsey. Their remains were found in a dumpster in the teacher’s parking lot.”
That had been a tricky one for sure. I’d caught them behind that building smoking pot and rooting around in the dumpsters over the weekend. They were scourges of the neighborhood; guilty of everything from breaking and entering to extreme animal cruelty. The four of them were naughtier than most. I lured them to the nearby woods, high out of their minds, and took my time playing a nice game of cat and mouse. By the time I was done I had festively painted the nearby pine trees red.
“The most recent victim was Jimmy Lyman. Her remains were found in her apartment.”
Ah, Wendy. I took the most pleasure in killing him. This also brings me to Stanley’s death. I had proof that the two of them had been engaging in an affair for quite some time now. I lifted a copy of his apartment key from Stanley’s office the night he left for his trip. I’d let myself into the apartment and caught him in the shower. Let’s just say that Norman Bates ain’t got nothing on me. There’s nothing like watching the blood of a naughty man swirl down the drain.
“The other victims have yet to be identified. Police are hoping that dental records may be their most useful tool in identifying the remains. We will continue to provide information as it comes in. For now, just continue to remain inside your homes and remain vigilant.”
I shut off the TV and helped myself to some more hot chocolate. I’d played my part well and I was proud of that. I knew I needed to be caught for my plan to work. People needed to understand what happens to naughty boys and girls. I would become a new face of fear, a new reminder of what it meant to dishonor the spirit of Christmas! With that in mind, I sat on the couch and placed an anonymous call to the local police station. I told them that I’d seen someone dressed as Santa, covered in blood, enter my neighbor’s house. I gave them my address as the location of “the neighbor” of course.
For some reason “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” was playing on repeat through my home stereo. Did I forget there was a cd in there or was there some malfunction with the radio? Either way, I found myself singing along with the music, and was halfway through another repeat of the song when I heard fists pounding on my front door. I smiled to myself and answered it; happy to see six policemen at my door and eight squad cars surrounding the house. I put on my most pleasant smile as I addressed them. “Evening, officers. What can I do for you?”
One of them looked at me oddly while the other two tackled me through the threshold. I remember laughing happily all the way down to the station. I wasn’t in a cell for very long before they shipped me here to the Twin Valley Behavioral Center.
That’s my story I suppose. It’s a year later and I still love Christmas more than ever! A plea of insanity at my trial pretty much guaranteed I’d be staying here for quite some time. It’s not all bad here though. I get to listen to Christmas music year-round and I’m even helping with decorations around the building! I’ve been making a lot of progress in my treatment, and people are actually starting to trust me around here. How else could I have grabbed this phone off an orderly and posted this story?
Not everyone here is friendly though, some are, dare I say it, more than a little naughty. This morning I snuck into the nurse’s station. You’d be surprised by the large variety of medications they keep on-site. Too many of the wrong combinations could very well leave someone in a defenseless state. I also happen to know which keys the orderlies possess to unlock certain doors. I hear they installed a new emergency fire ax in the security corridor too.
It’s my turn this evening to make the hot chocolate for the staff and patients. It’s part of a new program for those of us that have made the most progress. Sort of a way for us to give back I suppose. Well, this is the season for giving, after all, and I’m not one to disappoint. It’s like Mother Theresa once said: “It’s not how much we give, but how much love we put into giving.”
🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available
Written by Raz T. Slasher Edited by Craig Groshek and N.M. Brown Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek Narrated by N/A🔔 More stories from author: Raz T. Slasher
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Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).