A Christmas To Remember
A Zombie Story
By
Kevin Millikin
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Kevin Millikin
An earlier version of this story appeared in the Living Dead Press Anthology: Christmas is Dead…Again and has subsequently been rewritten for this eBook release.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
A Christmas To Remember
The roof creaked beneath the thunderous echoes of footsteps as they cautiously treaded their way across Betty-Lou’s bedroom. This was what she had been waiting for. The little girl couldn’t help but crack a smile, her heart flopping about in her chest like a fish out of water. She wasn’t scared. No. You see, Betty-Lou was a smart girl. She knew that there wasn’t such a thing as the boogeyman, nor were there monsters and definitely no such things as ghosts and with all of those ruled out, she knew exactly who it was.
“Santa,” she whispered, throwing the covers off of her and onto the floor. In the blink of an eye she was gone, off running across her bedroom in a flash, her pink nightgown flapping behind her like a cape as she flung open her bedroom door and burst out into the hallway.
Above her, the deep and well pronounced footsteps seemed to follow, occasionally losing ground behind the anxious child. Betty-Lou’s bare feet slapped across the hardwood floor, making it sound as if someone was knocking at the door with every frantic leap and hop she took.
In the blink of an eye she passed her parents room, in that fleeting second; she caught the gargled rasp of her fathers snores coupled by the hushed chatter of her mother’s television as she dozed to her favorite late night talk show. It was a wonder that neither of them could ever sleep. Betty-Lou made no attempt to be quiet. Her parents could sleep through almost anything and tonight wouldn’t be any different.
Betty-Lou never slowed her pace. The wicked excitement that pounded in her chest pushed her forward. Rounding the bend from the hallway into the living, she cut a sharp turn around the corner but never lost step. Up ahead, the gentle glow of the red, blue, green and white Christmas tree lights beckoned her forward like an offering hand.
The living room was large, set up as one would typically expect a living room to be. It was simple with nothing but a couch, a TV, bookcase and a fireplace. It was the soft glow of the Christmas tree that brought everything full circle, completing its look with an angelic sense of perfection. In the corner of the room was the large fir tree that her father had chopped from the base of Mount Shasta. Now, free from the wild, it sat there solemnly radiating in all its glory, towering over the presents like a divine God.
On any given night Betty-Lou would sit there by the tree and let its colorful strands of lights warm her face as she gazed upon the wrapped presents, pondering the sorts of magic and wonder that they held beneath their fancy bows and colorful wrapping. Tonight, she wanted none of it (at least not yet) the small child could barely contain her glee as she ran across the room towards the fireplace where her mother had hung up their stockings a few weeks prior.
There on the mantle, sat a plate of cookies and a large glass of milk. Betty-Lou picked up the plate and was careful not to spill the milk as she sat down on the floor a few feet from the fireplace, the plate of cookies and the glass of milk were laid out before her like an offering of peace and goodwill.
Somewhere overhead she could hear the approaching footsteps and couldn’t help but feel an overpowering sense of joy wash over her, after all she had just outran Santa Claus!
She listened as the jolly fat mans footsteps stopped just short of the chimney stack; such sounds caused the child to squeal with excitement as the house began to shake. Betty-Lou pictured the old man as he climbed into the chimney, heaving one massive leg upon the next all the while balancing his massive sack of goodies before shimmying his down the narrow passageway.
She wondered what treats he had in store.
A gentle poof of dust trickled down from the chimney, small, pebble sized pieces of chipped brick fell along with it, making little popping sounds as they hit the bottom signaling Father Christmas’ arrival.
As she waited, her smile never faded, “come on, come on,” her whispered words becoming a fevered mantra. Her mind spun with the thoughts of all she could receive on this most special of Christmas Eves.
The slithering of fabric on brick stopped, moments of excruciating silence passed and still, the child smiled and she continued to smile as a long, hard, moist cough shattered the night.
Betty-Lou’s smile flipped to a frown, that’s not very Santa like, she thought as Santa’s phlegm hit the bricks with a plop! She didn’t think twice, even though it was gross and un-Santa like, she still had to lump him into the category of being a boy and in her short amount of years, Betty-Lou still believed boys to be gross.
She only started to worry when a feverish groan resonated throughout the mason tomb, followed by what she thought to be some curse word but she wasn’t sure.