The Yule Lurker

The clock struck midnight as Evan Lawson pulled his scarf tighter around his neck and trudged through the icy streets of Ashwick. The Christmas lights twinkled cheerfully in windows, but Evan barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere—on the lies he’d told, the corners he’d cut, and the people he’d left broken in his wake.

He didn’t care. Not really. Life was about survival, and Evan had survived.

Still, the wind felt colder than usual, biting at his skin like teeth. A strange unease prickled at the back of his neck, but he shrugged it off as the lingering guilt he rarely allowed himself to feel. That was until he heard the sound: a soft, rhythmic crunch of footsteps in the snow behind him.

Evan stopped and turned. The street was empty, save for the snow falling softly under the glow of the streetlamps. But the sound continued, growing closer. It wasn’t just footsteps. There was a distinct dragging noise, like something heavy being pulled through the snow.

His breath hitched. "Who's there?" he called, his voice echoing down the silent street.

The dragging stopped. The air thickened, oppressive, as if the night itself were holding its breath.

Then, in the distance, he saw it.

A figure stood at the end of the street, barely visible through the falling snow. It was tall, impossibly thin, its limbs unnaturally long and bent. Its face was hidden beneath a hood, but its eyes glowed faintly, like dying embers. In its hand, it gripped a chain, the links rattling softly in the stillness. Something hung from the chain—something heavy, wrapped in stained cloth.

Evan felt his stomach twist. The stories his grandmother used to tell him as a child rushed back, unbidden: the Yule Lurker, a spirit that prowled the night every Christmas Eve, hunting the wicked. It was said to sniff out lies, deception, and harm like a wolf smells blood. And once it found you, it wouldn’t stop until you paid for your sins.

“Just an old story,” Evan muttered to himself, backing away. “A stupid fairy tale.”

But the figure moved, taking a step forward. Then another. Its dragging chain left deep furrows in the snow, and Evan’s heart thundered in his chest. He turned and ran.

Evan’s boots pounded against the snow-covered pavement as he weaved through the empty streets. The Yule Lurker’s footsteps echoed behind him, impossibly steady, no matter how fast he ran. He ducked into an alley, pressing his back against the wall, gasping for breath.

The alley was dark, silent except for the faint jingle of the chain. Evan clenched his fists, his mind racing. He’d conned people out of money, cheated on his taxes, lied to his friends and colleagues to get ahead. But that didn’t mean he deserved to die. Right?

The chain rattled closer, the sound filling the narrow alley. Evan spotted a broken pipe on the ground and grabbed it, his fingers numb from the cold. “You’re not taking me,” he hissed, his voice trembling. “I’ll fight you.”

The figure stepped into view, its glowing eyes fixed on him. Up close, it was worse than he imagined. The Yule Lurker’s skin was pale and cracked, like old parchment, and its mouth was sewn shut with coarse black thread. Yet somehow, Evan could hear its voice in his mind.

You cannot escape the truth.

It raised the chain, and the bundle at the end of it unfurled. Evan gagged as he realized what it was: a human head, its features twisted in agony. The eyes rolled toward him, and the mouth opened in a silent scream.

Panicking, Evan swung the pipe. The Yule Lurker caught it effortlessly, its bony fingers tightening around the metal until it crumpled like paper. The spirit leaned in close, its icy breath washing over him.

Confess, it whispered in his mind. Only then can you be judged.

Desperation clawed at Evan’s chest. He fell to his knees, trembling. “Fine!” he shouted. “I’ve lied! I’ve cheated! I’ve hurt people, okay? But I didn’t have a choice! Life isn’t fair, and I did what I had to do to survive!”

The Yule Lurker tilted its head, its glowing eyes narrowing. For a moment, the air seemed to still. Then, the spirit reached out, its fingers brushing Evan’s forehead.

His vision exploded with images—every lie he’d told, every person he’d wronged, every selfish act replayed in agonizing detail. The weight of his sins crushed him, and tears streamed down his face.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I’ll make it right. I’ll fix everything, I swear!”

The Yule Lurker loomed over him, its voice cold and final. You cannot fix what is broken. But you may yet learn.

It lowered the chain, wrapping it around Evan’s wrist. Pain seared through him as the metal burned into his skin, leaving a mark: a circle with jagged lines radiating outward, like a sun.

The spirit straightened, its glowing eyes dimming. Your punishment is to carry your sins. Let the mark remind you. If you stray again, I will return.

And then it was gone, dissolving into the snow like smoke on the wind.

Evan stumbled home, the mark on his wrist burning like a brand. He didn’t know if he could change, but the thought of the Yule Lurker’s eyes watching him from the shadows was enough to make him try.

Every Christmas Eve, he stayed awake, waiting, wondering if the spirit would return. And every year, the snow whispered a warning: the Yule Lurker was always watching, waiting for the wicked to falter.