Got another Xmas song, now for Soul L33k's challenge. Think you can do better? join Soul L33k's Christmas challenge and show what you got! ----------------------------------------------------------------------- "oh, sleeping again..." "how about...reminding you about some little ol' memories?" "HAHAHAHAHA" The reporter’s mouth moved slow on the screen, Said bodies were found where carols had been. Red fabric soaked darker than it should be, White beards left tangled in blood on the street. Mom said the doors were solid and strong, Metal on metal, nothing goes wrong. I watched her hands as she killed the light, Didn’t know fear waits for the middle of night. The house smelled warm, like dinner and wax, Outside was empty, streets laid flat. I leaned to the glass, forehead cold, That’s when I saw someone watching our home. Red hat tilted, face lost in dark, I thought of gifts, not teeth, not scars. Christmas massacre, holy night, Something breathing under porch light. Christmas massacre, no sleigh sound, Just boots pressed deep into the ground. I opened the window before I knew better. Cold air cut my skin as the latch came free, He lifted his head and stared at me. His beard was stiff, clumped and wet, Not snow, not foam — something I won’t forget. Mom screamed sharp when she saw his face, Ran at him fast, no time to think straight. She hit him hard, he barely moved, Just turned his head and smiled at us. He stepped inside, boots leaving marks, Dark shapes dripping across the carpet. Mom grabbed my wrist, nails in my skin, Pulled me upstairs while he laughed behind... We slammed the door, the lock shook once, Her hands were red, not just from rust. She pushed me inside the closet space, Told me to hide, wiped blood from her face. Her breath came loud, then went thin, Footsteps climbed, slow and heavy. Wood creaked under his weight, Each step closer felt like a count to eight. I bit my sleeve so I wouldn’t cry, Something warm ran down my thigh... Red hat tilted, face lost in dark, I thought of gifts, not teeth, not scars. Christmas massacre, holy night, Something breathing under porch light. Christmas massacre, no sleigh sound, Just boots pressed deep into the ground. I opened the window before I knew better. The closet door shook once, then twice, A blade scraped wood right by my eyes. Light slid in through a growing line, I saw his boots stop inches from mine. The handle turned, slow like a joke, Wood split where the metal broke. I smelled iron mixed with sweat, He hummed something I still regret. Then sirens cut through the house, Blue and red smashed the walls. He stepped back fast, cursed the air, Blood dripped steady from his sleeve. They pulled me out past shattered doors, Mom was shaking on the floor. They said my name like I was real, Like I wasn’t still hiding in there. They cleaned the house before sunrise, But missed the stains behind my eyes. Christmas never smelled the same again. Christmas massacre, tell the kids, Not every Santa comes with joy. Christmas massacre, lock the frame, A window open feeds the blade. Silent night, broken breath, Holiday songs over thoughts of death. Christmas massacre, hear me clear, If someone waits outside your home, Don’t trust red cloth or fake smiles, Some legends walk — and don’t come alone.
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