Red Christmas
By Patricia RD

Drusilla could barely contain her enthusiasm as she sat on Santa's lap, long red fingernails tracing his chubby features. He was almost real, not like those mall Santa's with big pillows and fake beards. Giggling incessantly and basking on the fear in his eyes, she'd told him what he wanted to Christmas.

A pony. A new dress. A skull. Daddy.

And then she ripped the gag from his mouth, so she could hear him scream while she fed. He tasted like caramel and mint. Thanks so much, Grandmummy.

Darla smiled as Dru broke her present's neck.

'Merry Christmas, Dru.'

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