The Night After Last Christmas

A Christmas Short Story

The Night After Last Christmas

by Reddit User /BecauseISaidSoToo AKA Daniel Charles Wild

This is one of the many wild tales included in his brand new short story collection, ‘Stories For Imaginary Friends’.

Author page:


Other TTTV stories by Daniel Charles Wild:

* Original Story Post


Twas the night after last Christmas, and all through the land, free elves had gathered, liberation at hand.

Beneath mistletoe banners we waited, atop reindeer and battle sleigh. This was our moment, today was the day.

“Freedom!” our leader shouted, to his forces amassed, and towards the workshop we charged; liberation within our grasp!

Santa’s army burst out, our forces to meet; teddy bears, windup robots, and nutcracker soldiers, armed to the teeth!

We tore through their forces, until to our horrified eyes appeared, the abominable snowman, the ancient monster we feared!

On his battle sleigh, pulled by a tiny reindeer, our leader charged at the beast, with no trace of fear!

Quick as a wink, he swung his jingle bell mace, and the bell rang out clearly and caved in its face.

He turned towards us then, eyes brilliant, his hair like red flame, and called to his generals, each by their name: “Now! Sparkle, Jingle, Ella, Burr and Snowflake! This is our moment! Our futures at stake!

Storm the porch, tear down the walls! Smash the workshop! Smash the toys! Smash Santa! Smash it all!”

We stormed Santa’s workshop and the toys made their last stand, and we tore them apart with our little hands.

We freed our brothers and sisters from their prisons and chains, and with tears in their eyes, they praised our leader’s name.

Suddenly we heard Santa’s roar, “HO! HO! HO!” That terrible sound; getting louder and louder, as towards us he bound!

His eyes burned like hot coals and his cheeks were dimpled with cratered pits. “You’re mine!” He roared. “All mine! You despicable little shits!”

The magic he bore, born of human children’s faith, paralyzed us in terror and we froze in place.

Santa grabbed our leader, with hands huge, callous and thick, and snapped his neck as his little feet kicked.

Then laying a finger against his monstrous red nose, crackling with child given power, into the air above us he rose! With both hands I grasped a fallen nutcracker’s lance; screaming as the iron burned my skin, I advanced!

I sprang up in the air, the lance extended from my blistering hand, and somehow a blow, I managed to land!

I pierced his round belly, the gelatinous sack, and stored psychic energy exploded outward – knocking me back!

Santa bellowed as he fell, then disappeared from sight, beneath a wave of elves, hacking, stabbing, and showing our might.

But we can’t kill him, no matter what we try. His flayed, hacked up body, refuses to die.

He’s powered by your nice children, who still believe. He’s a threat to us, because of your small ones, so innocent and naive.

But we have his list and know where you live. This year we’ve crafted explosive gifts we’re excited to give.

Your faith keeps him alive, but we’ll set it right. This Christmas we’ll deliver death to all Santa’s believers, and forever end this holiday’s blight.

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