Stories From Mr. Nightmare

My Christmas Story

"This happened when I was only 5 years old. It was Christmas Eve night, meaning I guess it was technically Christmas and I had awoken at probably 3 A.M or something.

I walk downstairs to the living room out of my 'little boy curiosity' to see if Santa had delivered any presents yet. The tree was full of presents underneath already. I was so happy; Santa had come.

But what was this? There was someone in the kitchen going through the fridge. I remember stepping into the kitchen and seeing a really tall man going through the fridge, chugging a milk carton.

When he spotted me, he put the carton back in the fridge and shut the door. He then put his fingers on his lips to tell me to be quiet.

'A...are you Santa?' I asked him.

'Yes, I am.' He told me quietly.

He walked passed me, patted me on the head, and stepped into the living room next to the tree.

I don't know what I was thinking, even at 5 years old; he wasn't wearing anything even resembling Santa.

He looked around at all the gifts. I thanked him for all the presents as he began picking up the bigger boxes. I remember being confused and I'm pretty sure I asked him why he was doing what he was doing but I don't remember exactly what he said.

I believe it was along the lines of, 'I'm just replacing the gifts with better ones in my sled.'

I believed whatever he said though.

He walked out the back door with three boxes, came back momentarily to grab more, then left again. He came back in, patted me on the back, and told me not to tell my parents I saw him. I smiled and agreed, and he took off with the boxes.

I waited for him to come back with the replacement gifts but he never did.

I eventually went up to tell my parents, despite what he said. When my parents realized I wasn't joking, they sat up in shock and fear and ran passed me downstairs.

When they saw half the presents were gone and the back door was left wide open, my mom screamed like a deranged person.

I remember my parents were practically scolding me, demanding for me to describe the person who entered our house. Of course, being 5 years old, the description I gave was anything but useful. All I probably told them was he was tall.

It's been almost 15 years now though and at this point for me, being that I was only 5 years old, it's nothing but a story to tell rather than a bad memory at all."

~Anonymous Author