text: I know the title doesn't sound that scary, but don't worry. &#x200B; *T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even the mouse. Santa was coming, kids opened their eyes, to get a glimpse of the fat man, but to their surprise, the huffledinger approached them, and every kid died.* That’s the story my dad always told me before bed throughout December, but I always thought it was some big prank. I lift my head off my pillow, trying to avoid the creaky step as I tip-toe downstairs. I slide my hand against the wall, pausing when my mom ceases snoring for a second and relaxing when she begins again. I grab the cookies and milk that we left out for Santa and decide to make the final test to see if he’s real. Poisoned cookies. I put two drops of the homemade poison I found on the internet on each cookie, and pour the rest of it in the milk. Now if Santa’s real, I won’t get a present, and if not, one of my parents will die. So, it’s a win for me only if Santa isn’t real. Mom and dad are too controlling together. I hear a creak-- someone stepping on the creaky stair. I quickly replace the cookies and start to open the fridge to grab myself some water. “Luke, what are you up to?” croaks my mom, watching me as I grab a water bottle from the fridge and point to it. “I got thirsty, duh,” I mutter, my face (hopefully) void of emotion. My mom nods, before walking back upstairs and plopping onto her bed once more. I grin. All according to plan. I take a sip of my water before putting it back and jogging upstairs. ‘*Santa, come on out to play!*’ I think, my face stretched into a grin. I look at the ceiling, lying in bed, pondering about what I might dream about when I hear a jingle from downstairs. It must be Santa Claus! I slide my robe on as the *thump* echoes downstairs. I peek down, but I don’t see a man dressed in red with a red-tipped nose, instead, I see a slim, tall, shadowy figure. It moves like a gaseous substance throughout my living room, sliding like a shadow across the wall. I slowly step down the stairs and squeeze my eyes shut when my bare foot lands on the creaky stair. The noise echoes through the hall, and the creature stops. It hovers over Santa’s dead body, foam bubbling out of the man in red’s open mouth. I cover my mouth as bile rises in my throat. I small gasp escapes me when I see the figure turn towards me and widen its already wide smile. I recognize it from dozens of nights, looking at the illustrations of a book. It’s the huffledinger. I scream for my parents, my eyes and mouth widening simultaneously. No sound comes from their bedroom, not even my dad snoring. I sprint back up and turn into their room, my face paling when I see the very same foam bubbling out of their mouths. I hear a creak on the staircase, and my face goes white. The shadowed figure smiles at me as its eyes roll back into its head, turning a bloody red. I scream, but no one hears me. As the huffledinger approaches, I remember the nursery rhyme. *And every kid died.* Oh god. I’m going to die, and it’s all because of one little experiment. I feel tears prickling at my eyes. I’m going to die. *I mean, death is inevitable, right?* I think as I close my eyes. But instead of the sharp pain of death, I hear a high pitched voice with a rasp singing. “Lucas, Lucas, not the first, try it again, and you’ll be the worst. No one kills him, except for me, so Lucas, on a killing spree!” The voice grows louder with every verse. “Lucas, Lucas, very bad boy, what would your mother think, if she were alive? You paid the price, don’t pay it twice, Lucas, don’t try to roll the dice!” I cover my ears, and it all but muffles the horrendous sounds coming from the creature in front of me. I know that as soon as I open my eyes, I will die, so I do. My eyes blink open, and the huffledinger’s mouth opens wide, swallowing me whole in one giant bite. *Lucas, Lucas,* I think. *You are dead, you opened your eyes, so he took your head.