Red Christmas
The stench of swine hovered around his head. The sound of blades scraping together echoed in the basement of house 12, the last one on the street. The dim orange lights flickered on the bloody walls. Trails of gore and plasma had started from his kitchen to the basement stairs. The splashing sound of his footsteps as he walks past the puddle of blood makes his cat run towards him with its tail high up in the air. It twirls around its master's leg, licks the blood off of his boots and runs back to its place near the fireplace.
He places the cold body on the table of agony and grabs the sharpened butcher knife. The cat sits and stares up at his master and his passionate way of working. With a quick slap of the knife, the hands came off clean. The deep red blood gushed forth and onto his apron. Slowly, it spilled down on the floor in the perfect stream. There were more clouts, more strikes and more thumps that made an absolutely magnificent melody.
He grabbed a handful of shredded meat and threw it towards his cat. It sniffed and sniffed, and sniffed and then looked at the body bag. It let out a tiny purr before running back to the first floor. Human meat never really tasted good.
Three missing since December 19th. A Deadly winters night.
The gramophone played pieces of Christmas, love, and joy. He sat on his worn out recliner and sipped the twilights coffee. The smell of freshly baked cookies swirled around the streets through the chimneys and the frost glued themselves to the windows. Pale white snow piled up under the heels of children, nevertheless, the laughter’s and the gleefulness of kids ringing the bells to give a taste and a glimpse of their gingerbread house was not invited to house 12. No one knew him. No one cared to know him. Except three.
One missing since December 24th. A Christmas Eve.
She fought with her mom on that day about something absolutely nonsensical. Slamming the door shut behind her, she marched through the heavily piled up snow in her front yard and dialed her boyfriend’s number. He wouldn’t pick up. She tried again but the same annoying response of the disconnected line.
Looking around her dead silent neighborhood, she took out her box of cigarette and quickly pulled one right from the middle. Clutching it between her teeth, she recalled that she forgot her lighter in her room. The second drawer, under the dozen unused socks.
Irritation had soon unwrapped her like a cold blanket. She threw her unlit cigarette on the soiled snow and zipped up her jacket as the frosty wind strongly blew past her, slapping her bangs away.
She wished to go back inside and just cuddle with her stuffed animals under her warm blanket with a cup of hot chocolate with double whipped cream and marshmallows, however, she shunned that thought as soon as she realized the mistake of arguing with her mom. Plus, she slammed the door which showed a great sign of disrespect in front of her relatives. That means, she’s grounded for good and that means she won’t be going inside anytime soon.
A sinister figure stood in front of house number 12. It appeared tall, and muscular and covered in darkness. She couldn’t help but catch a glimpse at it. The cold began to grow on her fingers and faint cramps enveloped her stomach as the individual moved a little.
Unconsciously, she took a step back.
The mysterious person slowly advanced forward, into the little blotch of the street light. She took a sigh of relief as the man appeared no more than a regular man wearing his nightgown with a cup of hot coffee and cookies.
“Hey,” He said a little loudly, “What are you doing out here in the cold?”
“I should ask you the same,” She said.
“The fuse was out, so I came to check.”
“Just came out for some fresh, winter air.”
“Ah, is that so? Well, Merry Christmas to you young lady.”
“You too.”
“Though, would you care to join me for a cup of hot chocolate?”
“Thanks, but I will pass.”
“It’s free,” He chuckled.
She shrugged.
“Come on, just a cup won’t hurt, right? I also have a gingerbread house to finish so I would really like some company.”
Sure, he was a stranger and she shouldn’t accept his kind invitation but it was Christmas Eve. No one lives this particular night alone. At least she would get to smoke a cigarette if he would let her.
“Do you have a lighter?” She asked.
“Of course, so do I take that as a yes?”
“As long as I get that cup of hot chocolate.”
Everything spun around her. The melodies, the patterns, the lights and the cat. Her body fell on the creaky floorboards as she tried to reach for the door. Fingers digging into the popped up nail pins, knees rasping and gasps in apprehension were in vain as a hand grabbed her by her hair and dragged her to the deepest of her expectations.
He roughly picked her up and placed her on the table. The smell of a fresh body captivated the cat. It swirled around its master's leg a couple of times before jumping on the table. It wagged its tail between her legs and watched the menacing event unfold.
First, he grabbed a blunt knife and slit her wrists. She let out a soft groan of pain, and yes, she was alive. So alive that the fresh redness of her blood gloriously spilled on his boots. Another slit on her wrist with the blunt knife and she was losing consciousness. He put aside the knife and grabbed another one, a sharp one at that. Slowly, caressing her cheeks with his lumpy fingers, he slit her throat in a perfectly straight line. The cat mewed.
Finally, taking his master knife; The butcher's knife, he performed spectacularly. The art of cutting, dicing, and skinning was almost as if he was born with it. He danced with the blades, he sang with axes and he enjoyed playing with the cleaver. The cat purred and began cleaning himself, unconditionally ignoring the deadly scene in front of it. Bits and pieces of deep sawed meat plummeted on the already sticky floor. Red covered the entire basement of house 12. The last one on the street.
He heard the police sirens nearing his society. The cat stopped licking itself and ran upstairs while letting out soft meows and vigorous tail shakes. He went upstairs as well, calmly locking the basement door and draping his wallpaper over it. Peeking through the window, he saw the cops stop at the house across from him.
He changed into his usual night wear and sat in front of the fireplace. The cat quietly sat in front of the door. The bell rang. It was already midnight and Christmas Eve had ended.
Lethargically, he got up from his comfortable recliner and opened the door.
“Sorry to disturb you at this hour,” The cop sighed as he tiredly inclined his head.
“It’s fine, what is it, though?”
“Another missing person.”
“Huh? Another one?”
“Yeah, A teen, ash hair, around five six, lives right across you.”
“Across me?”
“Yeah, you might have seen her maybe? Names Beth.”
“I might have seen her, yeah.”
“Man, it never ends…” The cop smacked his lips.
“I don’t think it will until we find the culprit before he kills another innocent person.”
“That’s why wear your damn uniform, Ray, the night has just begun. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas to you too, Nathan.”
He slipped on his white shirt, black pant, black tie and black coat and snatched his FBI badge from on top of his shoe rack. Before leaving the house, his cat stared at him intently.
“Be right with you in a minute,” He said to Nathan and walked to the kitchen. Opening the freezer, he pulled out a bloody Ziploc, unzipped it and threw a few pieces of minced meat inside the cat’s bowl. Lee was his name.
It quickly rushed towards its bowl and sniffed.
“Hope this is enough for you, Lee,” Ray patted its head and kept the meat back in the freezer.
“See you.”
Lee heard the door close as he gazed at the raw food in front of him. He sniffed it once more. Then once more and then for the last time, however, he pushed the bowl away from him and made his way to the fireplace where he would wait for his owner to come back.
After all, human meat never really tasted good.