Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus...

Episode Date: December 23, 2021

🎧 Check out my new True Crime podcast here called Crimehub: https://spoti.fi/3nIcpKY 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep This story was written by: Travis Brown 🎥 YouTube: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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I always loved Christmas as a kid. My mom was the same, but my dad, well, there was a reason his nickname was Grinch. Dad despised Christmas. I never found out why. He didn't like to talk about it. But one year when I was 11, Dad tried to like Christmas, just to make Mom happy. That was the last year I saw either of them. It started at the town's Christmas parade on the night we got the first snow of the year.

I was bundled up tight in a sweater, scarf, and cap and coat. Mom was wearing her funny holiday hat, the one with small felt antlers. Dad looked miserable standing with us on the sidewalk as the snow came down, and all of the floats drove by filled with smiling people. Even when I was 11, I knew my dad wasn't an impressive kid. guy. Short and skinny, my father was a timid man, usually spending his time either at the office or in his workshop building furniture. He was a talented man when it came to making chairs and cabinets, but defaulted to irritability anxious when it came to people. It was nice that he came to

the parade that year. I knew he and mom were fighting a lot at night, so I was glad to see them standing side by side as the parade passed us by. Dad even wore a red and green scarf. He was doing his best to be festive for Mom and I. It just didn't come naturally to him. Now our neighbor, Mr. Williams, there was a man who loved Christmas. We saw him that night in the parade. Every year, he dressed up his Santa Claus and rode in the main float that was shaped like a giant red sleigh. Even in his Santa suit and fake beard, Mr. Williams didn't make a convincing St. Nicholas. He was too tall and far too muscular. But all of us neighborhood kids appreciated his passion for the holiday, so we forgave him for being too fit to be a good Santa. Mr. Williams waved and threw candy canes to the kids as his float

rumbled down the parade route. When he passed my family, he threw extra candy. He even winked at us. Me and my mom waved so hard, it's a miracle nobody dislocated a shoulder. My dad just frowned up at the night sky as the snow fell harder. Dad headed right to his workshop in the garage the second we got home from the parade. The door was closed almost before his scarf hit the coat rack. The whirl and buzz of one of his saws drifted out a moment later. That was fun, wasn't it, Tommy? My mom asked.

Yeah. Do you think we'll get a snow day from school? tomorrow? If we do, can I borrow Mr. Williams' sled and go to Drop Hill? He told me I could use it any time I want to. That was nice of him, my mom replied, her eyes looking far away, like she was distracted. Mr. Williams sure is a giver. I nodded. He even told me he'd let me plug the main line into the generator tonight when he turns on all of his Christmas decorations with his new neon manger. Oh, sorry, I mumbled. He asked me to invite you too.

My mom smiled, still wearing her hat with the felt antlers. Sure, let's go be neighborly. We didn't bother inviting Dad. He wouldn't have wanted to go anyway. Mr. Williams was just pulling into his driveway as mom and I crossed our yard. Compared to his house with its curtains of unlit Christmas lights, inflatable snowmen, and electric elves, our property was barren. My dad kept promising to hang lights from the gutters, but here it was Christmas Eve, and all we had was one sad wreath on the door.

Mr. Williams was still wearing his Santa suit as he got out of his truck. When he saw us, he waved. My mom sped up a bit and pulled me along by the hand. Hey, Sport, did you like the parade? Mr. Williams asked, extending one red-gloved hand. I shook it solemnly, trying to project an air of adulthood. It was very fun, and I think you did a great job. Would you mind if, I mean, would it be okay if I plugged in the main line for the lights tonight?

Mr. Williams pointed me towards the generator. I know you've seen me do it a hundred times, Tommy. Why don't you go ahead and light her up? I'd like to talk with your mom for a second. The words were barely out of his mouth before I was running through the snow for the generator. All of Mr. Williams' lights were threaded through one main electric lights. line that he would plug into his generator each night. My hands were shaking as I connected the line to the power source. The lights burst into life all around us, waves and waves of red and green

and gold. I wondered if astronauts could see the house from space. It was that bright. Great work, Mr. Williams called out. He had pulled down his fake beard but otherwise looked like Santa, if Santa was a bodybuilder. Why don't you run home, Tommy? My mom suggested. She was standing very close to Mr. Williams. I want to talk to, uh, Santa for a bit, about presents and what kind of cookies he'd like. Something about her voice and the way they were standing made me anxious. But all I could think to do was wave goodbye and walk across our yard, boots crunching in the fresh snow. When I got back home, I went right to the kitchen to grab some ice cream from the freezer. Since I wasn't to say, I was in the

supervised by my mom or dad at the moment, I wasn't going to let the opportunity go to waste. As I chowed down on a pint of mint chocolate chip, I went to the window over the sink that faced Mr. Williams' house. I wanted one last look at the amazing lights before going to sleep. Instead, I saw Mr. Williams holding my mom close. He leaned down and kissed her. She wrapped her hands around his neck. They kissed for a long time with the lights. behind them. I wasn't sure what to think, but suddenly I didn't feel much like ice cream. As I put the pint back in the freezer, I stopped and listened. For the first time since I'd come back in the house, I couldn't hear any of the tools running from my dad's workshop. I realized then

that the garage also had a small window that faced the same direction as the one over the sink. Did my dad see my mom kissing Santa Claus? I felt my stomach clench, a vicious cramp that started around my appendix and slithered up into my chest. There was a long silence that stalked through the house, overflowing into every room. It was suffocating, and when I inhaled, the air got caught in my throat, stuck like a chicken bone. Then the saw started again from the workshop, and I exhaled. in relief. I decided to go to bed. All of the excitement had drained out of me, and I wasn't sure why. I was tired, but I knew I'd feel better in the morning. It was going to be Christmas after all.

I woke up to the sound of heavy thumping from downstairs. It was still dark outside, and I saw snow pressing against the glass of my bedroom window. Thud, thud, thud, thud. Santa! Part of me knew it was silly to believe in Santa at my age, but, like most kids, I always held out a little hope. I crept out of bed, trying to move as quietly as possible. My room was dark, as was the hallway, but I noticed a soft glow coming from downstairs. There was another thud than a strange dragging sound. It stopped in the kitchen. I held my breath at the top of the stairs.

Someone made great gulping noises. I remembered the milk and cookies my mom was supposed to leave out. I guess Santa was thirsty. There was movement from the living room. Something made me crouch behind the stairs railing. I saw a shadow cast against the wall. It must have been from the Christmas lights that mom put on the tree a few days before. The shadow was familiar.

I recognized the shape of the hat, the beard. It was Santa. The thudding started again. I saw Santa's shadow on the wall. He was bent halfway over, dragging a giant sack. His shadow grew taller, and I realized that he must be right next to the tree with all of its lights. I began to creep down the stairs, trying to decide the best way to say hello. Should I call him Santa?

Mr. Claus? St. Nick? I took the last step into the living room and nearly slipped. My bare foot was in a puddle. I tried to move and had to tug for a moment. The liquid was sticky. I leaned down to touch the puddle. It was too dark to see it clearly,

but whatever I stepped in was thick and smelled like rust. All of the excitement drained out of me. Even though I wasn't sure what I stepped in, I knew it was wrong. Not just out of place in the house, but a violation. something awful that my mind kept circling. That cramp was back twisting in my stomach, tying my guts and knots. Santa started talking to himself.

I saw his shadow jerking on the wall, the sack behind him. He was pulling presents from it and placing them under the tree. I think he was giggling. He was saying words too, but just in a whisper. Too soft for me to understand. I took another step and felt my foot. squish in the liquid. Now that my eyes were adjusting to the dark, I could tell there was a trail of it. The dark smudge against the carpet seemed to run from the door to Dad's workshop, past the stairs and into the living room.

That's where the tree was, where Santa was. I tiptoed towards the living room, doing my best to stay out of the wet spots on the floor. Even moving carefully, I still slipped at the end. I fell with a loud yell. In the light cast from the tree, I saw Santa turn around. Even with the fake beard, I recognized my dad. The red velvet Santa suit didn't fit him well, like it was designed for someone taller, bigger, but he was wearing it, boots and all. Dad was crouched on his heels with a large trash back behind him. It was one of the extra tough kind, like he used in the workshop. There were presents under the tree, strange shapes tied off.

with green and gold bows. You shouldn't be awake, Tommy, Dad whispered. Didn't you know it's a sin to try to catch Santa while he's working? It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, or maybe for my mind to accept what I was seeing. The presence under the tree were lumpy and unwrapped. I recognized a few.

There was a muscular arm, a slender foot, and a small head turned away from me. Mom was still wearing the novelty hat with the felt antlers. All of the parts and pieces of my mom and Mr. Williams were cut cleanly and tied off with bows. My dad was always so good with a saw. Merry Christmas, Tommy. Dad giggled, pulling more limbs from the trash bag and placing them under the tree. I think I'm finally feeling the holiday spirit.

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