Silent Night

The first snow of December blanketed the small town of Alford's Hollow, turning it into a picturesque winter scene. As Christmas drew near, the townspeople prepared for their annual Christmas Eve gathering in the town square. A tradition, one passed down for generations, that promised joy, warmth, and the comfort of old friends.

However, this felt different.

Samantha, a recent arrival to the town, felt a strange unease in the air. She had moved to Alford's Hollow to escape a tumultuous life in the city, hoping the quiet countryside would offer a fresh start. But as Christmas approached, something about the town seemed wrong. She couldn’t place it, but there was a whispering in the wind, an odd energy that she couldn’t shake off. Her curiosity grew when she overheard murmurs in the local café about strange happenings in previous Christmases—whispers that no one dared discuss openly.

On Christmas Eve, the town square was bathed in a soft, almost ethereal glow from the streetlights, and a massive evergreen stood proudly in the center, adorned with ornaments and twinkling lights. The townspeople gathered around, smiling and laughing, exchanging warm greetings as the local choir began singing hymns. Despite the merriment, Samantha could sense an underlying tension, something lurking beneath the surface.

She walked through the crowd, trying to shake the feeling, when an elderly woman named Agnes, her face lined with age and eyes sharp with knowledge, stopped her.

“You don’t know, do you?”

Agnes said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret.

“Know what?”

Samantha asked, her breath coming out in puffs of mist.

“The Christmas curse,”

Agnes replied, eyes darting around.

“The town has a history. A dark one. Every year, we have to offer a sacrifice.”

Samantha’s heart skipped a beat.

“A sacrifice?”

Agnes nodded, her expression solemn.

“It’s been that way for generations. It keeps the town safe. Keeps us prosperous. But each year, the price must be paid.”

The ground beneath Samantha’s feet seemed to grow cold, her mind racing.

“What kind of sacrifice?”

Before Agnes could answer, a distant, eerie chime echoed through the square, and the crowd fell silent. The moment was broken by the appearance of the town's mayor, a portly man named Jonathan Clarke. His face beamed with an almost unnatural smile, and he stood proudly at the center of the gathering.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!”

he bellowed, raising his hands in greeting.

“Tonight, we celebrate the blessings that have been bestowed upon us this year. And we give thanks for the prosperity that awaits in the year to come.”

Samantha felt a chill run down her spine as the crowd began clapping, their faces blank, almost robotic in their enthusiasm. Something felt deeply wrong.

“Join us in the final song!”

Mayor Clarke announced, his voice booming.

“And then, let us prepare for the night’s... true meaning.”

The choir began to sing again, but this time, the song was different. The melody was haunting, filled with dissonance that made Samantha’s skin crawl. The lyrics were ancient, almost a chant, but she couldn’t quite understand them. She was pulled into the crowd, caught in a trance-like state as the townspeople began to circle the tree, swaying in rhythm with the song.

Then, the bells tolled again.

But this time, it wasn’t the town clock. It came from the tree.

The town square seemed to stretch, the air thickening, as if the ground itself was moving. The once-white snow around them began to turn crimson, staining the ground beneath their feet. In a panic, Samantha turned to run, but the crowd had already encircled her, their eyes hollow, their smiles stretched too wide.

“It's time,”

Mayor Clarke intoned, his voice taking on a sinister quality. He stepped forward, his hands raised.

“The curse must be fulfilled.”

Samantha’s heart pounded as she pushed through the crowd, her breath shallow, and for the first time, she realized that everyone in the town square was smiling—a smile too perfect, too rigid. She stumbled to a stop when she noticed a figure standing at the base of the tree.

It was a child, small, pale, and dressed in a tattered red coat, her hair long and white as snow.

Samantha froze as the child’s eyes met hers, empty voids of blackness, no pupils, no warmth. The child smiled, but it wasn’t the innocent smile of a festive season. It was something darker, something twisted, like a predator’s grin.

The choir’s chanting reached a fever pitch. The snow had stopped falling, and the night air felt dense, thick with anticipation. The ground trembled beneath Samantha’s feet, and then, in one horrifying instant, the child’s mouth opened wide, impossibly wide, and the choir’s voices stopped.

The silence was deafening.

With a sudden, jarring force, the child’s body began to contort, her bones cracking as she stretched impossibly tall, her head elongating. The townspeople didn’t move, didn’t react. They stood there, lifeless, as if they were waiting for this to happen.

The child—now towering above Samantha—spoke in a voice that seemed to echo from the depths of some ancient, forgotten place.

“You should have stayed away.”

Suddenly, everything became clear. The sacrifices weren’t a tradition—they were a necessity, a grim price for the town’s prosperity. Every Christmas, the curse needed a new soul to maintain the fragile balance. And now, Samantha was the one chosen.

The wind howled, the air growing cold and suffocating. As she tried to scream, her voice was swallowed by the noise of the crowd, the chants, the eerie chimes.

The child’s smile widened.

And then, with a single, twisted motion, the world around her shattered like glass.

The next morning, when the sun rose over Alford's Hollow, the town square was eerily quiet. The snow had returned, fresh and untouched. The evergreen tree stood tall in the center, its lights glowing brightly. The townspeople emerged from their homes, smiling with serene, empty faces.

There was no sign of Samantha.

But if one listened closely, the faintest whisper could be heard, carried on the wind:

"You should have stayed away."

And as the town carried on with its Christmas Day celebrations, the dark secret of Alford’s Hollow lived on—waiting for the next Christmas, the next sacrifice.