Advent Ghosts 2009: Out of the Mouths of Babes (repost)

"From the Mouths of Babes"

by C. N. Nevets, (c) 2009

Twelve Christmas ago, Deb and I put up the tree and then the kids placed ornaments. They complained that the globes were warm and the figurines were evil. I said they'd been by the heater and were handcrafted. Then the whole house started to get warm and Deb said Frostie's eyes were creepy.

When phantom mists poured forth and wooden reindeer walked, I believed.

When Frostie ice-skated across Maddie's throat and the mists turned Jacob's eyes blue, I screamed.

When the tree burst into a fireball that consumed Deb, I crumpled.

When all passed and I remained untouched, I wept.

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This is a repost of my story last year's Advent Ghosts event, organized by Loren Eaton.  You can read the whole list of Christmas ghost stories from 2009 here.

Advent Ghosts 2010: Christmas at the Cabin

"Christmas at the Cabin"

by C. N. Nevets, (c) 2010


We'd never done Christmas at her grandparents' cabin before.  During the day, it had seemed charming and rustic.  It had felt warm and cozy.

At night, it was unsettling for my city-boy nerves.

Ice-covered branches scratched against the cabin and clinked against one another. Birds or animals moaned, low and remorseful.  The snow that fell seemed to hush everything but the sounds I didn't want.

Cozy felt confining.  Rustic felt unprotected.

It's just the woods.  It's just the woods.  It's just the woods.

And then I saw the face at the window.

And the blood seeping under the door.

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Please read the other stories that are part of the Advent Ghosts 2010 event, organized by Loren Eaton.

Blogsclusive: From Mouths of Babes

"From the Mouths of Babes"
by C. N. Nevets, (c) 2009

Twelve Christmas ago, Deb and I put up the tree and then the kids placed ornaments. They complained that the globes were warm and the figurines were evil. I said they'd been by the heater and were handcrafted. Then the whole house started to get warm and Deb said Frostie's eyes were creepy.

When phantom mists poured forth and wooden reindeer walked, I believed.

When Frostie ice-skated across Maddie's throat and the mists turned Jacob's eyes blue, I screamed.

When the tree burst into a fireball that consumed Deb, I crumpled.

When all passed and I remained untouched, I wept.

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A 100-word Christmas Eve Ghost story, prepared in response to Loren Eaton's writing invitation.