Songs and stories were made as a cautionary tale for children to listen to and obey. Be good and Santa would reward you. Be bad and Santa would take you. They made it seem all too easy and that there was no way you could misbehave unless you wanted to.

I was never too sure if this was true or not. I didn’t know anyone who had lost someone they knew just because they were on Santa’s naughty list. So to impress my friends and classmates, I acted out and did all sorts of things that adults advised strongly against. I made fun of other kids, I mocked my teachers, I teased my little sister. Basically, every single thing that branded me a naughty kid.

Eventually, I got over my rebellion and went back to doing good deeds like everyone else. I helped those that needed it and even did extra acts of kindness to make amends for my bad behaviour earlier on. After every good thing I had done, I assumed I was safe and that Santa would acknowledge that I was good again. I would be rewarded - or at least, left untouched.

Months later, the night before Christmas arrived and I was full of excitement. I couldn’t wait for the presents and food, the songs and laughter. It was supposed to a joyous day of love and fun, as all previous Christmases were. I was tucked in by my kind, loving parents who sang me a Christmas lullaby and kissed my head goodnight. Once they left, I snuggled up to my blanket and teddy with a smile, more than ready to sleep and begin Christmas day.

No one has been able to witness Santa Claus in the flesh and tell the tale. Despite being the world’s most loved man, he was rather reclusive and shy. That’s why no matter what when Santa arrived, everyone would fall asleep. Not a soul could fight it and it would happen almost instantly. Even the worst insomniac or the most energized person would submit to the slumbering spell. The entire world would sleep as Santa made his rounds.

Except, of course, the naughty children.

And that night, I was unable to sleep.

The longer I spent awake, wide-eyed at my ceiling, the more dread filled my stomach. The excitement was long gone, replaced by gut-wrenching fear. My breathing became sporadic and I could hear my racing heartbeat loudly in my ears. The anxiety was paralysing and I wanted more than ever to go to my parents for their reassurance and comfort. But I just couldn’t move. I was stuck, glued to my bed.

I was startled into a jump as I heard the clashes of jingle bells, loud and clear from outside my window. Then came huffs and grunts from the reindeer, along with the loud, bellowing laughter from Father Christmas himself.

“HO, HO, HO!”

Tears welled up in my eyes and I clung to my sheets with all my might. I held my breath and pretended to sleep, hoping just maybe those songs were a lie. A lie to scare children into behaving. That was it, right? No way could Santa, a jolly being, be so cruel to us.

I heard a thud from the roof, followed by the creaking footsteps and another laugh. I bit my bottom lip until I could taste blood, my attempt to hold back the fearful sobs that so desperately wanted to escape. I tried to convince myself it was all a nightmare. A cruel warning to stop me from being bad ever again.

But once I heard his laughter from downstairs inside my house, my instinct to survive kicked in and I jumped out of bed to hide. I quickly ran into my closet and hid amongst the clothes with my hands over my mouth. Thudding footsteps came from down the hall and I panicked to think of how to fight against Santa. How could I protect myself and defeat him?

But then suddenly I heard a scream from down the hall, deafening and full of terror. My heart fell and I dropped my hands as I realised it was my little sister, barely eight years old. She screeched out for help, for our parents, and then… For me. I wanted to go save her, to live up to my word and protect my little sister… But I was a coward, frozen in fear, unable to do a thing.

She cried out that she was sorry and begged for forgiveness but all Santa responded with was deep dark laughter. Her sobs stabbed through me and the thought of my sweet, kind little sister being harm overwhelmed me to the point I could no longer care about what happened to me.

I jumped out of the closet and ran down the hallway in search of her. I threw open her bedroom door and looked around the room. My stomach flipped and a cold sweat broke out across my skin. I stepped up to her bed, where I found her sleeping peacefully.

At first, I didn’t understand. But as I stared down at her calm expression, I knew Santa had played me right into his hand. It was a trick to lure me out.

Suddenly, a chill went down my spine with a daunting feeling that someone was behind me. Heavy footsteps slowly came up behind me and tears filled my eyes. I turned and looked up to the large figure of Santa Claus.

He matched his description pretty close; big belly, rosy cheeks, long white beard and hair. He was even dressed in his red suit with a fluffy white pompom on the end of his hat. The only difference was that this Santa had blood-red eyes that pierced through my soul and a snarled up grin that revealed sharp, gruesome teeth.

He was the same yet so very different from the lovable, friendly Santa I thought I knew.

“P-Please, Santa,” I whimpered. “Please.”

“Please what?” his voice came out harsh and croaky. It alone was terrifying enough to cause the bravest person to wet their pants.

“Please don’t kill me,” I barely whispered it out.

A hallowed chuckle came out of him. He smacked his huge meaty hand onto my shoulder and gripped it to the point I thought my arm might pop off.

“Since you’ve asked so nicely.”

Tears streamed down my face but I was unable to make a noise. Despite the immense pain and the petrifying fear I was enduring, I was once again frozen in place.

He shoved me to the side and I fell onto the floor, which I then quickly tried to get up and scurry away. But before I could even take a step, he grabbed the scruff of my shirt and dragged me out through the hallway.

As I passed my parents room, I cried out for them and screamed for help. But it was no use against the sleeping spell.

“Please, Santa!” I begged.

“Shut up!”

I cried as he dragged me to the living room, where the fireplace was as well as my family’s tall Christmas tree, adorned with red and gold ornaments. But what caught my eye was a giant red sack in the middle of the floor.

“What is this?” I looked at Santa as I hugged my arm, trembling at his glare.

He grabbed my shirt and harshly tossed me onto the sack. Sobs and groans of pain came from inside it and stared up at Santa in horror.

“What are you going to do with us?!” I demanded to know. I had to know.

Santa laughed and then pulled open the sack where several kids were stashed inside off. They screamed at the sight of him and cowered in fear.

“I’m going to put you to work.”

He shoved me inside the sack with the rest of the other naughty children before he closed it up. It was dark inside and like the many others, I couldn’t help but cry out for help. As the night went on, more and more kids joined us, each equally afraid as the rest of us was.

We had no idea where we going or what was to happen to us. All I knew, was that I should’ve listened to that damn song, no matter what.

You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I’m telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to town. He sees you when you’re sleeping and he knows when you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good.

So be good

For goodness sake.