Some links may be affiliate links. We get money if you buy something or take an action after clicking one of these links on our site.
Christmas All The Time is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.
Whoa! What Are You Doing Here?
“Lynn, stop it! Come out of there.” Holly barged through the door into Chelsea’s room. “Whoa! What are you doing here?”
Krampus lashed out with a whip. It wrapped around Holly’s waist. She screamed as he yanked her close.
“You wouldn’t listen to Grammy.” He grabbed a handful of her hair. “You wouldn’t listen to the kid.” He yanked her head back. “You wouldn’t even listen to your own mom. She knew what she was talking about, but you still wouldn’t LISTEN!”
Holly’s breath came in ragged gulps as she struggled to escape his iron grip.
“Well, you’re going to listen to me.” He said in a tone that drove a spike of ice down her spine. “Do you hear me?”
She nodded desperately.
“What did the kid say?” He threw her onto the bed beside Chelsea. Surprisingly, the child didn’t stir.
“It’s my fault.” Holly cried.
“What else? Focus!”
“I don’t know! You’re scaring me.”
“That way, I know you’re listening. What did the kid want?”
“Eggnog.” Holly moaned.
Krampus roared and cracked his whip. Chelsea’s TV split down the middle with a shower of sparks and flame. “Say it!”
“She said she wanted me to take stock of the present and the future.”
“Good!” He kicked the bed. “Look at her.”
“She’s sleeping. I don’t know how she can sleep through all of this.”
“That’s not the point. What is she?”
“She’s my daughter.”
“SHE’S THE PRESENT!”
“Okay, okay.” Holly sobbed. “She’s the present.”
“The other one.” He lunged toward her, his ivory fangs dripping with infernal ichor.
“Kendra?” Holly recoiled from the demonic maw.
“SHE’S THE FUTURE!” He jerked back and lashed out with his whip. Chelsea’s dollhouse melted and splattered all over the walls and shelves. “GET IT?”
“No.” Holly held an arm over her face.
“That’s because you’re stupid!” He kicked the bed again. “What makes it worse is that you’re willfully stupid.”
“What do you want?” Holly cried, arching herself over Chelsea protectively.
“I want what everybody wants, you moron! Get your head out of the sand and start looking at things how they are before it’s too late!”
“What do you mean?” Holly caressed her daughter’s strawberry blonde hair.
“Oh, you’re so thick! How do you even get up in the morning? It’s a wonder you know how to put one foot in front of the other.”
“I’m not dumb! I don’t know what you want. Why don’t you just go away?”
Krampus howled in fury and whipped a huge, scorched gash in the bedroom door. “That’s your answer to everything. Isn’t it?”
“Stop being cryptic. What do you mean Chelsea is the present and Kendra is the future?”
“What is Chelsea like?” Krampus picked up the picture frame with Lynn’s drawings.
“She’s a little girl.”
“What kind?” He flung the frame over his shoulder and examined some of her stuffed animals.
“She’s sweet and silly.”
He pointed the whip handle at her and flung a fluffy bunny at her face.
Holly held up a hand to block the projectile. When she lowered her hand, she found that she was in Kendra’s room.
“What’s Kendra like?”
“She’s solemn and studious.”
“She’s a soulless husk!” He lashed out with his whip. Kendra’s collection of paperweights scattered around the room like buckshot.
“She is not. She’s a sensitive, intelligent little girl.”
“She’s an emo ghost witch in the making. By the time that one is Chelsea’s age,” He pointed at her womb with his dreadful whip. “Kendra will be turning tricks to pay for a drug habit.”
“That’s not true! She’s too smart to get into drugs.”
“She’ll be too dead inside to feel the degradation or get even the slightest buzz from the chemicals.”
“She’s not dead inside. She’s just serious.”
Krampus roared. The walls shook. He lashed out with his whip, ripping a leg off of the bed.
Holly tumbled to the floor. Kendra slid down the mattress like a rag doll. Holly cradled her in her arms, twirling a lock of deep auburn hair in her fingers.
“Well, there’s a change.” Krampus laughed. “When’s the last time you actually hugged that kid and meant it?”
“I always mean it.”
“You mean it when you demean and criticize them! You mean it when you send them to their rooms so they’ll stop bugging you! You mean it when you say you want to be alone! How’d it work out for your mom?”
“Stop it! Leave us alone!” Holly held up a hand defensively.
“Like I said, that’s your answer to everything.” He shouted and cracked his whip a hair’s breadth from her face.
She flinched. When she opened her eyes, she was back in the living room.
Krampus sat down on Frank’s back and twirled his whip aimlessly.
“Now what?”
Krampus flicked Frank’s ear. “Nothing to say in his defense? Do you hate him that much?”
“I don’t hate him.”
“STOP LYING!” Krampus jumped up. “YOU TREAT HIM LIKE DIRT BECAUSE YOU BLAME HIM FOR NOT LIVING DOWN TO YOUR SUSPICIONS! HOW DUMB CAN YOU BE?”
“Stop it! Stop it!” Holly lashed out and grappled with the monster. “Who do you think you are?”
“Who do YOU think I am?” He laughed in her face.
She tore the awful mask from his head. She didn’t recognize the face. Did she?
“Did you listen to a word any of them said? Do you ever?” The fury in his hazel eyes was shockingly personal.
“I-”
“No. You don’t.” He laughed. His scornful smile was a dark mockery of Frank’s. “You never listen. Do you?”
“What do you want me to say?”
Krampus sat back against the couch. He ran pale fingers through his auburn hair. It looked like Kendra’s.
“You?” She rubbed her belly.
“Could be.” He smirked. “Depends on whether or not you shape up.”
“What do you mean?”
He literally smacked his head. “Kids need a mom, not a show dog. You’re not a pageant princess anymore. Stop putting on a show for the public and then crash out as soon as you get home. If you put half the energy into being their actual mom and caring about their needs as you do about pretending to be the perfect suburban housewife, you’d probably have enough left over to heal that pitiful, shriveled thing you call a heart.”
“I don’t know how.” She whimpered. “I never did.”
He stood up and dusted himself off. The stench of brimstone filled the room. “Then shut up a minute and listen to your kids. They know how to experience joy. They can teach you how if you stop pretending like this is some kind of rehearsal.” He stared into her eyes. His hazel eyes became molten balls of fire. “Or you can just keep being you and wind up in Detention like your mother.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Then learn.” He said coldly. “You’ve been warned.” He pulled a gun like the one that had been pointed at her in the toy store.
“You can’t!”
“That depends entirely on you.” He pulled the trigger.
1 Reply to “Whoa! What Are You Doing Here?”
Comments are closed.