Scary Christmas Everyone

It was a cold, brisk night in December. That wasn’t unusual in Oklahoma, but tonight felt different. The frigid wind carried an eerie edge, as if the air itself was whispering warnings. Janet glanced at Nathan. He sat on the patio bench, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, silent, just as he had been for the past three hours. Maybe that’s why it felt so cold—because he was so cold.

Their argument from that morning still lingered between them, raw and unspoken. The echo of harsh words and raised voices refused to fade. There wasn’t much left to say besides, “I’m sorry. I love you.” But pride—stubborn and thick—had its claws in both of them. Neither was willing to break the silence.

Janet shifted under her fleece blanket, the sound of nothingness pressing in on her. She wanted to speak, to shatter the oppressive quiet, but every time she tried, her frustration bubbled over. After all, it was his fault. He should be the one to say something. But deep down, she knew he wouldn’t. He never did.

Sighing, she tossed off the blanket and added another log to the fire. She stood close to the flames, letting their heat seep into her skin. Pulling a joint from the side table and a lighter from her pocket, she inhaled deeply, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the cold night air. Swallowing her pride, she turned toward him.

“So, how long are we going to play this game?” Her voice broke the silence like a cracked bell.

Nathan didn’t even glance up. “Don’t start, Janet. I’ve had enough for one day.”

“Wow. Every time I speak, I’m ‘starting something.’ Why is that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you should ask yourself that question,” he shot back, finally meeting her gaze with a flash of irritation.

Janet took another long drag before responding, her words laced with smoke. “No, I’d much rather ask you.”

That was it for Nathan. He switched off his phone, stood abruptly, and began walking toward the house.

“Nate!” Janet grabbed his arm. “You’re just going to walk away while I’m talking to you?”

He yanked his arm free and turned to her with sharp annoyance before sliding the patio door open and disappearing inside.

Left alone, Janet wrapped herself back in the blanket, the weight of the argument pressing heavier on her chest than the winter air. Tears threatened to spill, but she swallowed them down. It felt pointless. The cycle of trying to meet his expectations while staying true to herself was wearing her thin. She felt lost, disconnected, like they were strangers living under the same roof.

She let her thoughts wander back to the beginning—before the fights, before the silence. When had things gone so wrong? Was it the move? Had sharing a home exposed problems they’d been too in love—or too blind—to see before?

He prided himself on being a great communicator, but his actions told a different story. Every concern she voiced, every plea for understanding, was brushed aside. He left her with all the emotional labor. And here they were again: silent, distant, stuck.

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves near the front of the house. Janet froze, the eerie feeling from earlier creeping back over her skin. She stood and turned toward the sliding glass door, her breath hitching.

The doorbell rang.

Her heart stuttered. She watched Nathan rise from the couch and approach the front door.

“You wouldn’t have to do that if you’d just installed the camera doorbell like I asked,” she muttered to herself, still eyeing the shadows outside the patio.

The uneasy feeling surged, sharp and electric. “Nathan, wait!” she whispered loudly. “Shh… Are you expecting someone?”

Nathan turned back, confusion etched on his face. He shook his head.

The Christmas lights blinked faintly in the foyer, but everything else was unnervingly still. He frowned, realizing he hadn’t heard a car pull up or seen headlights in the driveway.

Bang! A forceful knock rattled the door.

Janet jumped. “What the fuck?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Nathan went to the kitchen and grabbed the gun from the cabinet above the fridge, cocking it with practiced hands. Janet, still wrapped in her blanket, stood frozen by the patio door, every nerve in her body screaming.

Nathan approached the door cautiously and peered through the peephole. Darkness. Just darkness.

He turned back toward Janet to say something—but the words died in his throat.

Behind her, silhouetted against the glass patio door, stood a tall, dark figure.

Its slick, slimy skin gleamed faintly in the firelight. It didn’t move, but it breathed, fogging the glass with each shallow exhale. A strand of saliva dangled from its chin, swaying unnaturally in the wind.

“Nathan?” Janet called softly, sensing his sudden stillness.

His voice came low, trembling. “Baby, don’t turn around. Just walk toward me. Now.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. He hadn’t called her “baby” all night.

“What’s behind me?” she whispered.

“Janet. Move. Now.”

Tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks as she obeyed. Slowly, deliberately, she walked toward Nathan, never turning her head.

He pulled her into his chest with one arm, raising the gun with the other. The figure didn’t move, but the fog on the glass began to fade.

“Go upstairs. Now,” Nathan ordered, shoving her in the direction of the stairs. She didn’t hesitate.

They bolted to the bedroom, slamming the door behind them. Nathan locked it and shoved the dresser in front of it, then dragged another to block the window.

Janet, trembling, stammered, “What… what was it? Was it a burglar? Should I call the police?”

Nathan didn’t answer, his hands gripping the gun tightly.

“Nate, what’s happening?” she pressed, tears streaming.

Finally, he met her gaze, his face pale and grim. “You can call the police, but tell them we’re being robbed. Because if you tell them what I just saw…” He trailed off, swallowing hard.

“They won’t believe you.”