Merry Christmas! - Our Short Stories

Art by Oncat

Merry Christmas to you all, and a happy New Year!

A Beetle of the Jolly Variety - Amelie

I hate humans. I really, really do. 

I was just buzzing around out here in the middle of the night, minding my own business, when one of those imbeciles decided to switch on their light, knowing perfectly well that I’m going to follow it. I’d never seen a light quite like it, how could I not? 

So now I’m flying around in this human nest, trying to find my way out again. The blonde girl who opened the screen door for me before is nowhere to be seen and the pretty light is gone, dammit! I’ve been flying around for ages, but I can’t seem to find a way out of here. I pivot in the air as I spot a thick green bush, buzzing my way onto a branch. But hold on a second… this tree isn’t outside.

Humans have built a giant tree in the middle of their nest. It glitters with tiny colourful stars, and I climb it the way I would any other tree, settling on a sturdy branch halfway up. From here, I can see the whole room: weirdly shaped red bags dangling like cocoons, plates of half‑eaten food, and a glass of milk taller than any anthill I’ve seen. The air smells of pine and sugar.

I’m admiring the view when a soft thump echoes from the big square nest where the fire goes.

The soot shifts. A boot appears. Then another. And suddenly, a man in red — enormous, jolly, and dusting ash from his sleeves — steps into the room. 

He moves with surprising grace for someone so large. From a sack that seemed impossibly deep, he pulls out boxes wrapped in shimmering paper and tucks them beneath the tree, right under my branch. I hold my breath as he reaches up to adjust an ornament near me. His gloved hand passes so close I can feel the breeze of it.

Then he fills the little red bags, each one bulging with treasures. He pauses to nibble the remaining biscuits. I considered scurrying down to taste one, but I wouldn’t dare interrupt a legend at work.

Before leaving, he glances around the room with a satisfied smile. For a moment, his eyes flicker toward my branch. Did he see me? I’ll never know. But he winks — a slow, knowing wink — and then he vanishes back up the chimney in a swirl of magic and soot.

Untitled Christmas Story - Evelyn

“Did you know… that mistletoe is a parasite?”

Oliver slowly spun around on his chair to face her. “No, I don’t think I did.”

She didn’t look at him from where she was standing in the small office on the other side of his desk. “Hmm.”

Oliver removed his glasses and stood, coming around to the front of his desk. He pushed papers to the side and leaned on the edge. She still didn’t meet his eyes. Her eyes were glued to the large bookcase next to the door, and the only reason that he noticed that something was wrong was in the small way her fingers played with the lace of her dress.

“You know you can tell me what’s wrong.”

She turned slightly and cocked an eyebrow. “Why… would there be anything wrong?”

“There’s always something wrong on Christmas Eve.” Oliver was a businessman, and he didn’t have a lot of time to spend on Christmastime. Except for her. She raised her hand in front of her face as if to grasp onto something floating in midair. “It’s just the voices. Particularly loud tonight." Oliver scraped a hand through his hair and went to open the curtains to see the snow outside.

“It’s a good thing that you’re safe then.”

“Am I, though?”

He made a confused expression. “Why wouldn’t you be?” He straightened his vest.

She pursed her lips. She always looked like such an angel. Her words weren’t much more than a whisper. “I don’t know.”

The fire was on, but Oliver suddenly didn’t want it to be. To purge the room of cold was an unnecessary precaution of nights like this. She preferred the cold when they were calling to her. The flickering of the flames was too much for her sometimes. She’d see faces in the embers and hear words in the crackling.

Oliver led her over to one of the chairs in front of his desk and knelt down in front of her. “Ghosts will never be able to bother you while I’m here. I promise.”

“And I believe you.” She retracted her hands and pulled her dressing gown tighter around her shoulders. Her eyes caught on his lamp and stayed there for a while. Oliver wouldn’t dare bother her while she disassociated. It normally meant that she was attempting to block out the whispers. She squeezed her eyes tightly together. “I just… I can’t keep doing this to you.”

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows. “Doing what to me?”

She suddenly stood and walked past him. “Keep… bothering you. Distracting you, weighting you with my… problems.” She stared at her hands and then slowly reached up to her ears to cover them.

It wasn’t unusual for her to get anxious in the holidays, but Oliver had never heard such strange things from her. Aside from her stories of the voices, she wasn’t normally alarming in this way. “What are you… You’ve never bothered me with any of this! Look,” Oliver ran to the back of his desk, reached for the telephone and started dialling a number. “I’ll get you a cup of tea and call Dr Langley and see if he can help any of this-“

“No, I don’t need help! I need to-“ She tore her hands down her face.

Oliver put the phone down.

She smiled. And began to head towards the door.

“Where are you…”

She flashed him a smile and closed the door behind her.

“Wait! No-“ Oliver climbed over his desk and crashed through the room to chase after her. The corridor outside the room was empty. The house was big. He’d catch up to her. He called after her, screaming for her. She couldn’t… she wouldn’t…

He passed the dining room- prepared for Christmas Dinner, the lounge- decorated appropriately for the day to come, the library- where a small piece of mistletoe hung in the middle of the room. Then he descended the stairs to reach the entrance hall, where a large Christmas tree was sitting in the middle of the room, adorned with gilded baubles and silver tinsel with a sparkling angel at the top. The door, he saw, was slightly ajar. He walked slowly through and stepped onto the deck. The deck where he had first seen her. Shivering, mumbling nonsense, like she’d just seen death himself. This time, however. He saw her standing alone in the snow. Barefoot. 5 metres away from him.

He'd invited her in the house. He couldn’t just leave her out in the cold. “Hello.” He had said.

She frowned. “Goodbye.” And ran into the storm.

“Emily!”