NICE OR NAUGHTY

Horror Short Story

(4000 words)

 Nice or Naughty Thomas Brand It was quiet all through the house. It had been for hours. Not a creature was stirring, but Emilia wasn't taking any chances.

In the long hours since her parents had tucked her into bed she had lain there, wide awake, waiting. She had listened as the adults had bumbled around downstairs, finishing the last few Christmas preparations before they too finally clomped up the wooden staircase to bed. Once they had settled for the night and silence had at last settled over the house, Emilia had begun her vigil. She had lain in bed, as still as a statue, listening for those telltale noises she knew would come.

Then, from below, she finally heard the sounds of movement she had been waiting for.

Throwing off the covers, the young girl jumped from her bed. Pulling on her dressing gown and slippers from where they lay on the floor, she tiptoed over to the door. Carefully she pressed her ear against the wood. There was definitely someone downstairs. The sound was soft, not enough to wake anyone, but to Emilia, who had been waiting for this moment all night, it was clear as a bell.

Certain that it was finally time, Emilia carefully turned the doorknob and ever so slowly pushed the door open, just a crack. No reaction. The noises below did not change. There was no indication the person below had heard her. Opening the door just wide enough for her to fit through, she stepped out into the hallway. Her slippered feet made hardly any noise on the carpeted floor as she shuffled along the landing. Reaching the top of the stairs, she stopped and listened. It was dark, but starlight coming through the window where the curtains were not quite closed reflected faint sparkles on the tinsel that wound its way in and out of the bannisters. Emilia clung to the top rail and stared out into the darkness of the downstairs hallway. There was no movement that she could see. The only thing that could be made out at the bottom of the stairs was the shape of the sideboard, covered in festive cards and bright decorations. Beyond that was the closed door that led to the drawing room. And from beyond that door came the noise.

Emilia waited. She knew who was in there, and she had no desire to disturb them. Emilia was not stupid. She was, in fact, very clever. She knew the rules. She knew all about Santa's lists, and had worked very hard to make sure she was on the correct one. Emilia was a very good girl. At school, when her friends began to misbehave, Emilia would always hang back so she would not get into trouble. At home, when her little brother James was playing up, she was always careful to look out for him and inform their parents before he could so anything really bad.

Yes, Emilia had been a very good girl this year. Especially so over these last few weeks. There was no way she was going to jeopardise that now by disturbing Santa while he was still in the house. But Emilia was a very clever little girl. Everyone knew that is was incredibly naughty to try to catch a glimpse of Santa while he was in your home. Nobody ever said anything about waiting for him to leave.

She had planned tonight very carefully. She made sure she was well rested and had not gotten over excited, unlike James. While he had run himself ragged with excitement and had practically been asleep already when her father carried them up to bed, she had not been sleepy at all. She had lain there, up in her room, wide awake and waiting for this moment. Now, if she was patient for just a little longer, she would finally get everything that she wanted.

Soon no more noises could be heard, but still Emilia waited. For long minutes she stood there, holding the bannister tightly. Silence. Only when she was absolutely sure that the sounds below had stopped did she begin to make her way slowly down the staircase. She carefully stepped over the third and fifth steps, the two that creaked the loudest, and once at the bottom of the stairs stood stock still and waited again. Nothing. Softly, she scurried to the drawing room door and pressed her ear up against it. Nothing. She couldn't hear a sound except her own excited breathing. Was it safe? It had to be. Santa couldn't stay in there forever. He had all the other houses to visit.

It took several minutes before Emilia was brave enough to actually go in. She stood there in the dark hallway, ears straining for any sign that Santa was still there. Still nothing. Finally she screwed up her courage, pushed open the door and stepped through.

The room was empty. The only illumination came from the flickering lights on the Christmas Tree. Her parents would not leave the main lights on overnight, and so at Emilia and James' insistence each year the Christmas Tree lights were left on for Santa to see by. Bright patches of alternating colour shone over the room, casting warm shadow and soft illumination onto every surface in slow rhythm.

Under the tree, Emilia could see the outlines of shapes filled with promise. Several large boxes sat there, surrounded by many smaller ones, all wrapped in festive ribbons and paper. These were the family gifts. She had helped to set them all out under the tree earlier that evening, arranging each one just so. She had shared in her brother's excitement as each gift was taken, inspected and put in its place. They were forbidden from looking at the labels until the morning, and so each package held the magic of a thousand possibilities and wonders. Now they lay as they had been left, shrouded in the magic of Christmas morning, waiting for the dawn of the new day.

But Emilia's eyes were drawn to the fireplace. Over the mantlepiece hung four festive, red and green stockings. A small one hung at each end of the mantle; her parents, being grown ups, received far fewer gifts from Santa. But between them, hanging below the carriage clock, hung the two full sized stockings she knew so well; one bearing a large golden 'E', the other a large golden 'J'.

She ran to the table by the fireplace, carefully set that evening just before bedtime. There was the cup of milk, now empty, and there was the plate on which had sat a large mince pie and a homemade cookie, of which remained now just a few crumbs.

The lights reflected in Emilia's wide eyes as she took in the scene before her. It was beautiful. Had she tried to come into the room too soon, she was sure she would have seen nothing but a few flakes of soot falling into the hearth, and the stockings would have remained empty. But Emilia had been patient, and now had before her everything she had been waiting for.

Everything was perfect. And everything was hers.

Eagerly, Emilia pulled her stocking from the fireplace. She didn't turn on any of the big lights, for fear of waking her family, but by the light of the tree she tipped the stocking out onto the floor. Brightly wrapped gifts fell in a heap from the soft felt. Tossing the empty sock aside, Emilia knelt down and began to rip open the parcels. She made quick work of the pile and was soon facing a horde of toys and chocolate, surrounded by discarded scraps of wrapping paper.

Emilia grinned. She grabbed a net of shining gold coins and ripped into it. Pulling off the foil and throwing it aside, she began to shove the chocolate into her mouth. Chewing happily, she looked around herself. Her eyes settled on the remaining stocking. The large golden 'J' stared back at her. She began to wonder what gifts her brother had gotten from Santa. If she had waited until morning, of course, he would have opened his just fast as she had and she wouldn't have had to wonder. Now she would have to wait hours to see.

There it hung, alluring and mysterious on the mantlepiece. Standing up, Emilia reached out and felt the shapes within. Maybe she could guess what each gift was. Taking the topmost item out, she felt around it with her fingers. What could it be? The paper was fresh and clean, the folds neat. Perhaps she could just peel open one end and take a peek? It would be so easy to replace. James would never know.

Slowly, careful not to rip the colourful paper, Emilia peeled away the sticky tape and unfolded the paper at one end. She peered inside, but it was so dark that she could not see enough to make out what was within. She was forced to peel away a little more. And then a little more. Then the whole thing was unwrapped and sitting in her hands. A neat new pack of colouring pencils stared up at her, the flashing lights highlighting each colour in in turn.

Emilia was stabbed with a moment of guilt. Quickly she rewrapped the pack. It looked almost as good as new. She relaxed a little. She knew James would not take his time over his presents. He would run straight in and rip the paper to shreds as he always did, without paying any attention to the quality of the wrapping.

She was about to put it back in the stocking when she was struck by a curiosity. Her gifts were done. She couldn't open any of the tree presents until her parents came downstairs. She was going to have to wait for hours now before she could see what was in any of the other presents. Long, agonising hours sat here with this tantalising horde surrounding her. She had come down to get her own presents as early as possible, and was now left here alone, forced to wait for the others to wake up. But here was another full stocking. She knew it was not for her, but no one would ever know. She looked again at the good job she had done rewrapping the colouring pencils. The more Emilia thought about it, the more she realised that as long as she was careful she could easily open each of the gifts in James' stocking, see what they were, and then rewrap them. She had hours before any of her family would come downstairs. It would be easy. She knew she could do it. It would be the perfect reward for how good she had been all year. She wasn't stealing anything. She was just getting to see what James had received before he did.

In no time at all, Emilia was once again surrounded by freshly opened gifts and discarded wrapping paper. Not all of James' presents had been as easy to open as the first. Some of the paper was quite badly ripped, but she was certain that she would be able to put it all back. Looking over the pile, she was pleased to see that her own was clearly larger than her brothers, and the presents more impressive. A year of being such a good girl had clearly paid off.

Emilia smiled.

"Well, well," came a low voice from the corner of the room. "Naughty, naughty, naughty."

Emilia spun around. She had been sure she was alone, but the voice had definitely been right behind her. At first she saw no one. Then the shadows by the tree shifted. Something was sat in the darkness. The shape was odd, huddled in on itself. Emilia couldn't make out any details, only a pool of darkness amongst the festive Christmas light.

"Santa?"

"Oh no, child," came the voice. "Nicolas has been and gone. But then you can see that, can't you? And what pretty gifts he leaves you, for such a naughty child."

"I'm not," Emilia burst out. She was scared, unsure of this new voice. She tried to peer into the gloom, but the dark shape was just as indistinct as before.

"Oh, but you are," the voice continued. It was deep, with a strange accent that Emilia did not know. "All those lovely gifts. Are they yours, Emilia?"

Emilia looked down. No, they weren't hers, but she had been going to wrap them again. James would never have known.

"Wouldn't he?" asked the voice. Emilia froze. She hadn't spoken. "You stole the magic, Emilia."

The strange figure straightened up, unfolding from where it sat in the corner. It remained shrouded in darkness and cast an eerie pallor over the room. Before now, the lights on the tree had seemed warm and festive, but where they struck the shape they just seemed cold and weak. It stepped forward, its heavy footsteps thudding into the carpeted floor.

"You opened them first, Emilia. Did you think that your brother would not be able to sense what you had done? There is a magic to opening Christmas gifts, Emilia. You know that? When first you pull open that paper and look inside to the gift within? That moment when the anticipation turns to wonder? That feeling that pulls you, draws you in? You know that feeling, don't you? It was that magic that drew you here this morning. And you stole it." It took another step forward. "You stole that magic, Emilia. You've taken it away from your little brother and now he has nothing."

"I'll put them back," whispered Emilia. She wanted to deny it, but she knew that the creature spoke the truth. The dark shape was moving forward. Thick fur shook as it walked, and there was a dull clanking noise with each step. It appeared to be hunched over, so that while it seemed to fill the whole room, Emilia was left with the impression that its true size was greater still.

"Why do you think you deserve so many nice gifts, Emilia?" it asked. "Why did you deserve so many, and your brother none?"

"I'm a good girl. I've been good all year."

"But now you've come down so early, just to steal these gifts. Is that nice, Emilia, or is it naughty?"

"But," Emilia tried to speak, but the voice carried on over her.

"Some might say that waiting until the last minute, after Nicolas has gone but long before anyone would be around to share the magic with you, is even more naughty than trying to catch him. Wouldn't you agree? You tried to trick him. You tried to trick Santa Claus. To steal all the magic for yourself. Do you know what happens to naughty children who try to trick us, Emilia?"

Emilia stood there, frozen. The figure was standing in the middle of the room now. It was covered with long dark fur, and as the lights on the tree flashed they reflected off long, curving horns that wrapped around a head that bent in close in towards her.

With a thump, a large cloth sack was dropped on the floor between them. Emilia stared at it. It looked to be empty, yet there was faint movement underneath.

"Now tell me, little Emilia," the figure spoke, "Why do you deserve all your brother's Christmas magic? Why do you get all his gifts?"

Emilia swallowed. She could not take her eyes off the large sack. It covered the entire floor between her and the horned figure. It looked old, ancient and scratched. It was still moving, as if it covered some pit and small, childlike hands were trying to push their way through from underneath.

"I'm waiting, little one." The figure growled, leaning forward.

"But I'm a good girl," Emilia argued desperately, unable to tear her eyes away from that horrible sack. "I always behave. James never does. He's always fighting with other kids, and he only helps mother when she watches him. He misbehaves at school, and I always have to watch out for him." Most of this was true. James was two years younger than her, and never behaved as well as she did. She knew she deserved more from Santa than he did. Her eyes were filled with the image of all those little hands pushing as the sackcloth in front of her.

"Hmmm," mused the figure. It tilted its head and leant in so that its face was close up to Emilia's. She still could not make out any details in the dark room. All see could see were the Christmas Tree lights reflecting in two deep, ancient eyes. Its breath held the scent of old forests, of damp wood and cold air. Emilia found herself shivering.

"So it is your brother who's the naughty one?" "Yes."

"So you say, little Emilia, you say that you are not naughty for opening all the presents? You are nice and your little brother is the one who is naughty. That would mean it did not matter that you had stolen his Christmas magic, would it not?"

"Yes." Emilia's voice was a whisper.

"I see." The figure stood straight. It towered above Emilia, even taller than her father. Its great horns brushed the ceiling, banging against the hanging light. "So, in a way, James does not deserve those presents. After all, only good little boys and girls should get gifts, should they not?"

"No."

"Naughty children get something else, don't they?"

"Yes."

"And you know what naughty children get, don't you?"

Emilia looked down at the sack. It was still now. It simply lay there, empty, covering the floor of her drawing room.

"Yes," she whispered.

With a sweep of its long arm, the creature reached down and scooped the sack from off the floor. Emilia half expected to see a deep hole beneath, but the green carpet was as it had always been. Emilia shivered. As she watched, the dark figure hung the sack over his shoulder and backed away into the corner. The sack no longer appeared empty. She could not be sure, as the room was still so dark, but it seemed that between it laying on the floor and arriving at the figure's shoulder, something had been placed inside.

"So, you have one last chance, child," the creature hissed slowly as it crouched back down into the shadows. "Do you truly think that it is your brother who is the naughty one?"

"Yes," Emilia whispered.
"Then enjoy the gifts, little Emilia. Only good children get gifts, and you are such a good girl."

Emilia stood there, too scared to move. She stared into the darkness for several minutes, but the corner into which the creature had backed away was empty. The shadow that a moment ago she was sure had been cast from a curved horn now blended in with the arm of the chair. What she thought was long, matted fur was just the texture of the wallpaper. The flashing lights hanging from the tree sent shadows around the room. On and off they flashed, revealing an empty corner. She was alone, with nothing nearby but toys and torn paper. The figure was gone, but the sense of menace hung in the air like snow.

Emilia fled from the drawing room. The decorations on the sideboard rattled as she sped past and up the stairs, which thumped and creaked as she ran. She did not stop until she was safely in her room and the door slammed shut behind her. Grabbing the covers from off her bed, she hastily bundled herself up and huddled, shaking and crying, in the corner.

The rest of the night passed agonisingly slowly. Emilia did not sleep. She simply sat where she was, her eyes screwed tight shut. She could not shake the words of that creature out of her mind. She jumped at every noise, fearful that at any moment she would hear the heavy thump of the horned figure's feet on the carpet beside her, the dull clanking as it leant over her, and see that sack falling across her eyes.

Eventually, the new morning dawned. After a while the bedroom door opened. Emilia looked up, her heart in her mouth, but it was her mother who stepped in, bundled up in her familiar red dressing gown and slippers.

"Emilia? Where are you? We thought you'd be badgering us to wake up by now."

Emilia sprang up and ran to her mother. Throwing her arms around her waist, she clung to the familiar, reassuring fabric of the dressing gown.

"Emilia? What on earth's the matter?" asked her mother.

"I'm so sorry, Mummy," Emilia sobbed. "I'm sorry. I waited 'til Santa came, and I went downstairs, and I opened all the stocking presents. I opened them all, and I was going to put them back, but only..."

Her mother knelt down. Emilia tried to bury her face into her, but her mother took her by the shoulders and looked into the little girl's eyes, smiling fondly. "Emilia, why are you so upset, you silly girl? We've seen that you've been down there."

Emilia looked into her mother's happy face. She was confused. She had expected to be in so much trouble for last night's work.

"But I opened them all."

"We can see that," her mother laughed. "You've made quite the mess down there. We thought you'd still be down there playing. I can't imagine why you were curled up in the corner up here?"

"But," Emilia sniffled, "I opened all James' gifts too."

"Who?" Mother looked confused.

"James," Emilia repeated.

"Who's James, sweetheart?" asked her mother.

Emilia froze. "My brother," she said uncertainly. Something was wrong.

"What are you talking about, Emilia?" said her mother. "You don't have a brother. Come on. You can't spend the whole of Christmas Day up here."

Gathering the small girl up in her arms, Emilia's mother picked her up and carried her downstairs. Through the open windows Emilia could see frost covering the garden. Everything seemed calm. As she was carried through into the drawing room, Emilia saw before her the scene from the night before. Two piles of presents lay unwrapped on the floor, surrounded by discarded paper, only this time the room was filled with light from the open curtains. She immediately turned to check the corner by the tree. There was nothing. Everything seemed as it should, yet something felt wrong.

Emilia's father was crouched by the fireplace lighting a freshly laid pile of kindling. He turned and stood as they came in the room, kissing Emilia on the forehead.

"Merry Christmas, beautiful. You've been a busy one, haven't you."

Emilia looked up. There were the two small stockings, one for each of her parents, still hanging from either end of the mantlepiece. But only one large stocking lay on the floor, bearing the large golden 'E'. James' was nowhere to be seen.

"Mummy, where's James' stocking?"

"Who?" Mummy answered again, shaking her head. "Don't be silly, darling. All three stockings are right there."

Emilia's heart froze. Words from the night before floated in her memory. Naughty children get something else, don't they? One last chance, Emilia; Do you think that it is your brother who is the naughty one? The sack, empty on the floor but filled when it hung from the creature's shoulder.

Enjoy the gifts, little Emilia. Only good children get gifts, and you are such a good girl

Her father took Emilia from her mother and placed her down by the piles of presents she had abandoned that night.

"Here you are, beautiful. All yours."