Day Twenty Four: The Tale of Santa in the Mall: Are You Afraid of the Dark
Title: The Tale of Santa in the Mall
Author: acanismajoris or Sako Akarui
Fandom: Are You Afraid of the Dark
Pairing: None
Rating: PG?
Warnings: ghost story!
Disclaimer: Do not own members of the Midnight Society, or format
Summary: A Betty Anne Christmas spook fest!
Notes: Had to get this out before midnight my time, so Santa can enjoy his ghost story. Let's face it, Santa is one scary man. Head over to Advent Challenge for more stories!
“Ugh,” Frank groaned, stomping into the circle of his friends and collapsing on the last empty seat.
“We thought we’d have to start without you,” Kristen said.
“So did I. Got stuck taking my cousins to see Santa. Can you believe the line went past the department store? We were there all afternoon!”
“At least your cousins enjoyed seeing Santa, right?” David asked. “I used to love going as a kid.”
“Oh, yeah, the little dweebs were completely ecstatic.” Frank rolled his eyes. “It’s the dumbest thing. I can’t wait until they stop believing.”
“Why would you want that? I still believe in Santa,” Betty Anne admitted.
“How can you believe in Santa? It’s the most ridiculous set of lies I’ve ever heard.”
“Maybe. But I suppose I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Betty Anne reached for the pouch of midnight dust, and Gary handed it to her with a smile.
“Whenever you’re ready, Betty Anne,” Gary said, settling in for a good scare. Betty Anne began reciting her story to the group.
“Most everyone who believes in him loves Santa Claus. He’s big and jolly, and he brings little kids presents. As long as you’re good. If you’ve been bad, watch out. No matter when it was, no matter where, Santa always knows the bad things you do, because he’s always watching. And he’ll always reward like with like.
“Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story:
“The Tale of Santa in the Mall
“Stilton was a pretty average town for most of the year. Fireworks at Fourth of July, ghosts and ghouls at Halloween: exactly as expected. But Thanksgiving was when it all changed. The holiday float would bring Santa around every year, and the entire town would cheer. From then onwards, Santa would appear every day in the mall to listen to the wishes of the town folk, and also to offer advice on behaving well. Even the adults in town would sidle in alongside their children, because they still believed that their Santa was real.
“Everyone believed - except Steve. He’d moved to Stilton during the year, and he couldn’t believe that the entire town still believed in Santa Claus.
“‘You’re a bunch of morons,’ he told his friend, Billy. ‘Look at you, you’re twelve. You should be ashamed to think Santa is real.’
“‘Look.’ Billy pointed from the second floor of the mall to Santa’s house which was set up in the big open plaza in the center of the mall. Men dressed up in elf costumes stood at the gate and at the various doors to the house, while Santa himself sat in a large bright chair. A carpet lead up to him from the gate, and people filled up the space, lining up calmly and trailing all the way out of sight. ‘Maybe the Santa in your town was a fake. But you haven’t met our guy. He’s the real deal.’
“‘You want me to meet the freak? Alright, I’ll do you one better.’ Steve studied the house until he saw a window that no one seemed to be watching. ‘I’m gonna sneak into Santa’s house, find the guy’s real name. Then you can tell me how much he’s Santa when you see him vegging on the couch with chips and no beard later today.’
“Billy tried to stop him, but it was no use. Steve was determined to prove that he was right. He took the escalator down, skirting by the people standing patiently on the moving stairwell. When he reached the bottom, he tried to walk like he was just one of the many other eager kids, just waiting to catch a glimpse of Santa. When no one was watching, he hopped the fence and ducked under a fake patch of snow. He made his way towards the house, stopping as an elf walked briskly by, then ditched the fabric of fake snow and hopped inside the house.
“He was surprised that the inside was as decorated as the outside. He was expecting exposed wood and props to hold up the facade, but instead he saw a mantle complete with stockings and a plate of milk and cookies set on a table. The table was even set with burning candles. Steve ignored it, shaking his head at the town’s insanity. He was going to find this guy’s real clothes, and wallet and ID, then he’d prove to Billy once and for all that this nutter wasn’t the real Santa.
“The clothes and wallet were tucked in a closet, along with a notebook containing many many names. Without reserve, Steve picked up the wallet and started flicking through it: some cash, a couple cards, and bingo: ID. The man’s name was Sean Cooley. Steve ripped a page from the notebook and wrote down the information. He nearly put the wallet back, then reconsidered. He reached inside, pulled out some cash, and then replaced the wallet.
“Steve was feeling pretty good for himself. He was about to duck out the way he came, when he noticed one of the ‘elves’ was now stationed outside his exit. He quickly looked around for another way out, but no path presented itself. He was stuck, and he didn’t plan on getting caught by mall security. If his parents found out, he wouldn’t get Zeebo’s Big House for Christmas.
“He spotted the candles again.
“Well, if they were stupid enough to let them burn unintended, who was he not to take advantage?
“In the ensuing panic, Steve slipped out the window and into the crowd of onlooking children and parents. The elves were rushing inside, calling for a fire extinguisher. Santa himself seemed to have used his coat (and part of his beard) to suffocate the fire.
“Steve was grinning from ear to ear.
*~*~*~*~*
“Steve and Billy went by the man’s house, and sure enough there was a man who lived there. And he didn’t always look like Santa Claus. Billy wasn’t convinced.
“‘Just because he spends some of his time relaxing, or shaves every once in a while, that just makes him human. He’s still Santa. He can grow it back like that with magic!’ Billy snapped his fingers, but Steve scoffed. Stilton was full of the stupidest people he’d ever met.
“The people of Stilton only became more excited as Christmas got closer. Steve was thankful when it was finally Christmas Eve. Tomorrow would be Christmas, and the town’s ridiculous obsession would finally be over.
“‘You’ve been so good this year,’ his mother said over dinner, patting his head. ‘I thought the move might have some negative effects, but you’re still my angel, aren’t you!’ Steve didn’t mention the vase he’d broken and blamed on the dog, or the bits of cash he’d taken. What she didn’t know, didn’t hurt him.
“‘We’ll be at our Christmas party, son,’ his father reminded Steve. ‘We’ll be back late, and I expect your light to be off by that time.’
“‘Of course, Dad.’ Steve dutifully finished off his meal (or deposited the vegetables into the plant when no one was watching) and smiled when his mother collected his plate.
“‘Don’t get up to any trouble, dear!’
“Steve retreated to his room, hearing the sharp rap of the door closing while he booted up his video game. He couldn’t wait to get his new games tomorrow. The hours seemed to fly by, until he heard a scratching sound from his ceiling. Steve looked at the clock: 12:04 am.
“‘It’s officially Christmas,’ Steve told himself. ‘Time for me to get my present.’ Steve left his room, turning on the light in the stairwell and descending with a skip in his step. He switched on the light for the living room where the tree was, but it flickered and went dark.
“‘Crappy bulbs,’ Steve muttered. He’d just have to use the light from the stairwell, despite the long shadows it created. He sat himself at the tree and began to search through the presents. He tossed a small box aside, and another that felt suspiciously like a book to his disgust. He soon came across an appropriately shaped box and carefully began to remove the paper. His plan was to replace the paper and unwrap the present again in the morning. Steve uncovered the front of the case and grinned at the clown depicted. He opened the case.
“There was no game; the case was filled with small black stones.
“Perturbed, Steve closed the case and reached for another present. He carefully peeled back the tape, revealing a box inside.
“The box was also filled with the same black stones. He picked up one stone, and dark dust covered his hands.
“Steve opened another present, and another, ceasing to be careful. Every last one was filled with the dark stones.
“Coal.
“A sound in the kitchen caused Steve to start. He turned to look and saw a large shadow move out of sight. His heart was in his throat as he made his way to the kitchen.
“A carton of milk sat abandoned on the table, along with a half eaten cookie. Steve looked around, even bending to look under the table, but saw no one. He put the milk away, leaving the cookie. There was something odd going on in this house, but Steve didn’t want to admit his strongest suspicion.
“That was a ludicrous idea.
“Steve sniffed the air, noticing a sweet and sickly smell. With fear, he ran back into the living where the light had increased and flickered occasionally.
“A fire had caught under the tree, and the piles of coal he had upended earlier were catching and fueling the fire. The flames were beginning to consume the tree, and the curtains behind the tree as well.
“Steve ran up the stairs, too scared now to be prideful. He grabbed his wallet and ran back into the living room, eyeing the flames with trepidation.
“‘Santa!’ he shouted at the fireplace for lack of a better target. ‘I’m sorry! Okay! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have broken into your house, or taken your wallet or gone lurking by that house! And I certainly shouldn’t have thrown eggs at your door! But here’s all the money I have,’ Steve dumped bills of currency onto the floor, ‘with interest for the trouble I caused, and I can give you more, and I promise to be good, but please, please forgive me! I’ll be good!’
‘Steve closed his eyes, sitting on the floor and wishing he could take back what he did. The lights flickered lower, then brightened again.
“‘Steven, sweetheart, what are you doing by the fireplace?’
“Steve looked up in shock to see his parents standing in the doorway. The fire was gone, the presents were wrapped once more, and the only light was the one overhead from the ceiling lamp, working once more.
“‘I thought I told you to be in bed.’ His father looked irritated.
“‘I... was waiting for Santa,’ Steve said, glancing at the empty fireplace. His mother touched her heart, a look of endearment in her eyes.
“‘He’ll come, sweetheart. Come, let’s get you to bed. He won’t come by unless you sleep like a good boy.’
“Steve was ready for bed in minutes.
“The next morning showed no signs of oddity. His presents were all as expected, except a small present Steve hadn’t seen the previous night. Inside, he found a picture of the Santa in the mall, along with his elves and a card.
“‘Seasons Greetings,’ the card read, ‘and Remember to be Good in the New Year.
“So remember,” Betty Anne said, scanning the faces of her audience. “Just because you can’t see him, doesn’t mean Santa hasn’t got his eye on you. He may just be waiting for the right moment to pay a visit you will never forget.”
“Good story,” David said when Betty Anne fell silent, grinning.
“Yeah,” Frank said, adjusting in his seat. “Good story.”
“I declare this meeting,” Gary said, lifting a bucket of water, “of the Midnight Society closed.” He poured out the liquid, quenching the flames.
“We still on to see Santa tomorrow?” Kristen asked Betty Anne.
“Of course,” Betty Anne replied, picking up her backpack.
“Hey, think you could use a third in that party?” Frank asked, following the girls away from the campfire.
Author: acanismajoris or Sako Akarui
Fandom: Are You Afraid of the Dark
Pairing: None
Rating: PG?
Warnings: ghost story!
Disclaimer: Do not own members of the Midnight Society, or format
Summary: A Betty Anne Christmas spook fest!
Notes: Had to get this out before midnight my time, so Santa can enjoy his ghost story. Let's face it, Santa is one scary man. Head over to Advent Challenge for more stories!
“Ugh,” Frank groaned, stomping into the circle of his friends and collapsing on the last empty seat.
“We thought we’d have to start without you,” Kristen said.
“So did I. Got stuck taking my cousins to see Santa. Can you believe the line went past the department store? We were there all afternoon!”
“At least your cousins enjoyed seeing Santa, right?” David asked. “I used to love going as a kid.”
“Oh, yeah, the little dweebs were completely ecstatic.” Frank rolled his eyes. “It’s the dumbest thing. I can’t wait until they stop believing.”
“Why would you want that? I still believe in Santa,” Betty Anne admitted.
“How can you believe in Santa? It’s the most ridiculous set of lies I’ve ever heard.”
“Maybe. But I suppose I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Betty Anne reached for the pouch of midnight dust, and Gary handed it to her with a smile.
“Whenever you’re ready, Betty Anne,” Gary said, settling in for a good scare. Betty Anne began reciting her story to the group.
“Most everyone who believes in him loves Santa Claus. He’s big and jolly, and he brings little kids presents. As long as you’re good. If you’ve been bad, watch out. No matter when it was, no matter where, Santa always knows the bad things you do, because he’s always watching. And he’ll always reward like with like.
“Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this story:
“The Tale of Santa in the Mall
“Stilton was a pretty average town for most of the year. Fireworks at Fourth of July, ghosts and ghouls at Halloween: exactly as expected. But Thanksgiving was when it all changed. The holiday float would bring Santa around every year, and the entire town would cheer. From then onwards, Santa would appear every day in the mall to listen to the wishes of the town folk, and also to offer advice on behaving well. Even the adults in town would sidle in alongside their children, because they still believed that their Santa was real.
“Everyone believed - except Steve. He’d moved to Stilton during the year, and he couldn’t believe that the entire town still believed in Santa Claus.
“‘You’re a bunch of morons,’ he told his friend, Billy. ‘Look at you, you’re twelve. You should be ashamed to think Santa is real.’
“‘Look.’ Billy pointed from the second floor of the mall to Santa’s house which was set up in the big open plaza in the center of the mall. Men dressed up in elf costumes stood at the gate and at the various doors to the house, while Santa himself sat in a large bright chair. A carpet lead up to him from the gate, and people filled up the space, lining up calmly and trailing all the way out of sight. ‘Maybe the Santa in your town was a fake. But you haven’t met our guy. He’s the real deal.’
“‘You want me to meet the freak? Alright, I’ll do you one better.’ Steve studied the house until he saw a window that no one seemed to be watching. ‘I’m gonna sneak into Santa’s house, find the guy’s real name. Then you can tell me how much he’s Santa when you see him vegging on the couch with chips and no beard later today.’
“Billy tried to stop him, but it was no use. Steve was determined to prove that he was right. He took the escalator down, skirting by the people standing patiently on the moving stairwell. When he reached the bottom, he tried to walk like he was just one of the many other eager kids, just waiting to catch a glimpse of Santa. When no one was watching, he hopped the fence and ducked under a fake patch of snow. He made his way towards the house, stopping as an elf walked briskly by, then ditched the fabric of fake snow and hopped inside the house.
“He was surprised that the inside was as decorated as the outside. He was expecting exposed wood and props to hold up the facade, but instead he saw a mantle complete with stockings and a plate of milk and cookies set on a table. The table was even set with burning candles. Steve ignored it, shaking his head at the town’s insanity. He was going to find this guy’s real clothes, and wallet and ID, then he’d prove to Billy once and for all that this nutter wasn’t the real Santa.
“The clothes and wallet were tucked in a closet, along with a notebook containing many many names. Without reserve, Steve picked up the wallet and started flicking through it: some cash, a couple cards, and bingo: ID. The man’s name was Sean Cooley. Steve ripped a page from the notebook and wrote down the information. He nearly put the wallet back, then reconsidered. He reached inside, pulled out some cash, and then replaced the wallet.
“Steve was feeling pretty good for himself. He was about to duck out the way he came, when he noticed one of the ‘elves’ was now stationed outside his exit. He quickly looked around for another way out, but no path presented itself. He was stuck, and he didn’t plan on getting caught by mall security. If his parents found out, he wouldn’t get Zeebo’s Big House for Christmas.
“He spotted the candles again.
“Well, if they were stupid enough to let them burn unintended, who was he not to take advantage?
“In the ensuing panic, Steve slipped out the window and into the crowd of onlooking children and parents. The elves were rushing inside, calling for a fire extinguisher. Santa himself seemed to have used his coat (and part of his beard) to suffocate the fire.
“Steve was grinning from ear to ear.
*~*~*~*~*
“Steve and Billy went by the man’s house, and sure enough there was a man who lived there. And he didn’t always look like Santa Claus. Billy wasn’t convinced.
“‘Just because he spends some of his time relaxing, or shaves every once in a while, that just makes him human. He’s still Santa. He can grow it back like that with magic!’ Billy snapped his fingers, but Steve scoffed. Stilton was full of the stupidest people he’d ever met.
“The people of Stilton only became more excited as Christmas got closer. Steve was thankful when it was finally Christmas Eve. Tomorrow would be Christmas, and the town’s ridiculous obsession would finally be over.
“‘You’ve been so good this year,’ his mother said over dinner, patting his head. ‘I thought the move might have some negative effects, but you’re still my angel, aren’t you!’ Steve didn’t mention the vase he’d broken and blamed on the dog, or the bits of cash he’d taken. What she didn’t know, didn’t hurt him.
“‘We’ll be at our Christmas party, son,’ his father reminded Steve. ‘We’ll be back late, and I expect your light to be off by that time.’
“‘Of course, Dad.’ Steve dutifully finished off his meal (or deposited the vegetables into the plant when no one was watching) and smiled when his mother collected his plate.
“‘Don’t get up to any trouble, dear!’
“Steve retreated to his room, hearing the sharp rap of the door closing while he booted up his video game. He couldn’t wait to get his new games tomorrow. The hours seemed to fly by, until he heard a scratching sound from his ceiling. Steve looked at the clock: 12:04 am.
“‘It’s officially Christmas,’ Steve told himself. ‘Time for me to get my present.’ Steve left his room, turning on the light in the stairwell and descending with a skip in his step. He switched on the light for the living room where the tree was, but it flickered and went dark.
“‘Crappy bulbs,’ Steve muttered. He’d just have to use the light from the stairwell, despite the long shadows it created. He sat himself at the tree and began to search through the presents. He tossed a small box aside, and another that felt suspiciously like a book to his disgust. He soon came across an appropriately shaped box and carefully began to remove the paper. His plan was to replace the paper and unwrap the present again in the morning. Steve uncovered the front of the case and grinned at the clown depicted. He opened the case.
“There was no game; the case was filled with small black stones.
“Perturbed, Steve closed the case and reached for another present. He carefully peeled back the tape, revealing a box inside.
“The box was also filled with the same black stones. He picked up one stone, and dark dust covered his hands.
“Steve opened another present, and another, ceasing to be careful. Every last one was filled with the dark stones.
“Coal.
“A sound in the kitchen caused Steve to start. He turned to look and saw a large shadow move out of sight. His heart was in his throat as he made his way to the kitchen.
“A carton of milk sat abandoned on the table, along with a half eaten cookie. Steve looked around, even bending to look under the table, but saw no one. He put the milk away, leaving the cookie. There was something odd going on in this house, but Steve didn’t want to admit his strongest suspicion.
“That was a ludicrous idea.
“Steve sniffed the air, noticing a sweet and sickly smell. With fear, he ran back into the living where the light had increased and flickered occasionally.
“A fire had caught under the tree, and the piles of coal he had upended earlier were catching and fueling the fire. The flames were beginning to consume the tree, and the curtains behind the tree as well.
“Steve ran up the stairs, too scared now to be prideful. He grabbed his wallet and ran back into the living room, eyeing the flames with trepidation.
“‘Santa!’ he shouted at the fireplace for lack of a better target. ‘I’m sorry! Okay! I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have broken into your house, or taken your wallet or gone lurking by that house! And I certainly shouldn’t have thrown eggs at your door! But here’s all the money I have,’ Steve dumped bills of currency onto the floor, ‘with interest for the trouble I caused, and I can give you more, and I promise to be good, but please, please forgive me! I’ll be good!’
‘Steve closed his eyes, sitting on the floor and wishing he could take back what he did. The lights flickered lower, then brightened again.
“‘Steven, sweetheart, what are you doing by the fireplace?’
“Steve looked up in shock to see his parents standing in the doorway. The fire was gone, the presents were wrapped once more, and the only light was the one overhead from the ceiling lamp, working once more.
“‘I thought I told you to be in bed.’ His father looked irritated.
“‘I... was waiting for Santa,’ Steve said, glancing at the empty fireplace. His mother touched her heart, a look of endearment in her eyes.
“‘He’ll come, sweetheart. Come, let’s get you to bed. He won’t come by unless you sleep like a good boy.’
“Steve was ready for bed in minutes.
“The next morning showed no signs of oddity. His presents were all as expected, except a small present Steve hadn’t seen the previous night. Inside, he found a picture of the Santa in the mall, along with his elves and a card.
“‘Seasons Greetings,’ the card read, ‘and Remember to be Good in the New Year.
“So remember,” Betty Anne said, scanning the faces of her audience. “Just because you can’t see him, doesn’t mean Santa hasn’t got his eye on you. He may just be waiting for the right moment to pay a visit you will never forget.”
“Good story,” David said when Betty Anne fell silent, grinning.
“Yeah,” Frank said, adjusting in his seat. “Good story.”
“I declare this meeting,” Gary said, lifting a bucket of water, “of the Midnight Society closed.” He poured out the liquid, quenching the flames.
“We still on to see Santa tomorrow?” Kristen asked Betty Anne.
“Of course,” Betty Anne replied, picking up her backpack.
“Hey, think you could use a third in that party?” Frank asked, following the girls away from the campfire.