It was Christmas Day, and the whole family was in high spirits. The house was decorated with twinkling lights, and the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. As a teenager, you still loved the magic of Christmas, and this year, your parents had outdone themselves with thoughtful gifts. You were happy, surrounded by the warmth of family and festive cheer.

After dinner, the weather outside was cold but crisp, perfect for enjoying the snow. Eager to make the most of the day, you bundled up in a thick sweater, stepped outside, and joined your family in playing with fireworks and building snowmen in the yard. The world was quiet, and everything felt magical as the soft snowflakes fell from the sky.

Hours passed, and as the evening wore on, your stomach rumbled. You decided to go to a nearby stall to buy some snacks to satisfy your hunger. The streets were empty, the world still covered in a blanket of snow, and the air was crisp with the cold.

On your way back, you heard strange noises coming from the forest. At first, you tried to ignore it, but the sounds got louder, and the trees started shaking. Nervous, you tried to hurry home.

You quickened your pace, trying to get back to the safety of your house, but the sound seemed to follow you. You turned a corner, and to your shock, a figure appeared out of nowhere. Standing in front of you, silhouetted by the moonlight, was a man dressed as Santa Claus. But this wasn’t the jolly Santa you’d seen in pictures or heard of in stories.

His clothes were torn, stained with something dark, and his face was covered in blood. His eyes, instead of the usual warmth you’d expect from Santa, were cold and hollow. He smiled, but it wasn’t a comforting smile—it was unsettling, almost predatory.

"Don’t be afraid," he said in a voice that didn’t match the jolly old man you’d imagined. "I’m Santa. I don’t eat people..." His tone was strange, almost mocking.