Dark December [A Holiday Filled Horror Anthology]

Tarnished By: L.L. Sanders

TARNISHED by LLSanders 

TEASER BLURB: This Christmas, little Jake is visited by an odd, discolored stain on the wall. The tarnished spot resembles a human figure bearing a gift. Is it a case of pareidolia or has Santa come early? If so, he shows no sign of leaving.

~ ~ ~

I can't do this.

How in the hell did she?

My temples ached at the thought of what I had to do. So I threw back another shot of rum to relieve the pain.

A steady drizzle of rain drummed the rooftop of my meager two-bedroom home, while the crackles from the fireplace instilled me with a much-needed sense of calm. Except, the peace was short lived as the scurry of small footsteps rustled from the boy's room. I exhaled, anticipating his voice from beyond the closed bedroom door.

"Daddy?"

I took a deep breath before my lungs burst and dropped the shot glass to the desk. Why couldn't he just call me Mike? "What's up, Buddy?" I shouted in his direction.

"I can't sleep." More pintsized footsteps pitter-pattered the carpet. "I don't like being all by myself."

Reluctantly, I allowed my feet carry me into what I still considered my office, even though his bed occupied a third of the space. The boy sat on the edge of the bed, and for a few awkward seconds, we stared at each other. He didn't want to be here. I read it in his eyes.

Can he read the same in mine?

I rested against the doorframe and studied him as he plucked stray pieces of lent from his favorite blanket. "If you don't go to sleep Santa won't bring you gifts."

He looked up with wonder in his dirty-brown eyes. "Santa? Who's Santa?"

My eyebrow lifted as I gave him a look. "What kid doesn't know who Santa is?"

He shoved his thumb into his chest and eagerly bounced on the mattress. "Me."

"Your mom never told you about Santa Claus?" She really took the not-influencing-my-kid-with-religion stuff seriously. Now here I am, left to do the dirty work.

I looked away so he wouldn't see the panic in my eyes while I fingered the cloth headband in my pocket. The same headband she had often used to wrap her hair into her preferred messy bun. I never understood her style choices, but whenever we'd run into each other on the street, she always looked well put together.

Why'd you have to go and die on us, April? What a messed up way to spend the holidays. I sighed, swallowing a lump of grief that threatened to render me useless.