Jason Ruins Christmas

Introduction

A snowflake falls, lonely and perfect, through the cold air of the little town. It is the first of many to come, but being on it's on for now, it lights softly on top of an old doghouse, sitting there in silence. It is much too cold to melt, so it watches the night, it's icy patterns oblivious to the sleeping houses and still trees.
All is quiet.
All is peace.

At the end of the road, a man stands under a streetlight but is somehow not himself illuminated. He stands as still as the trees, his clothes and skin are as cold as the air around him to the exact degree. It serves as a sort of camouflage. No clouds of breath come from his mouth. No heartbeat flutters his shirt.
One eye (itself as cold as a rock in a stream) watches the neighborhood in a grim dumbness, like a distant star watching the earth.
Watching, waiting, for the first sign of life.
The snowflake sinks into the roof of the doghouse, a tiny droplet of water leaking from it, a symbolic tear shed for the horrors to come.

                               2

A lone car moves down the little road, navigating the piles of slush. It whips into a driveway, a couple gets out and starts to unpile boxes from the rear seats.
"Did you see someone?" the woman asks.
"Huh?" says the man.
"Just now."
"Where?" he asks, looking around dumbly.
"No, back there. By the stop sign."
He shrugs.
"Never mind. Let's get these gifts in, I'm freezing."
The man obeys, gathering their haul and walking carefully to the door behind her.
Behind them, the man by the stop sign comes to terrible life, like an automaton activated by motion and light.
He steps toward the direction where the warm people went, and he has come to make them cold.
An icy machete dangles from his left hand.