Author: R. J. Erbacher

Timmy woke with a start and looked up. He heard scurrying overhead. On the roof? Hooves, maybe. He laid perfectly still and listened intently. It only lasted a moment and then stopped.

For a while there was nothing and he began to lose hope that he had actually heard anything.

A few minutes later there was a faint scratching from downstairs. Timmy sat up, peeled the blanket back, crept to his door which he opened a crack. There it was again. He tiptoed his pajamaed feet to the steps and snuck down trying to avoid all the spots that creaked.

About halfway down Timmy could see partially into the living room and a blur of crimson trimmed in white flashed by. He covered his mouth to stifle the gasp. At the bottom he inched up to the threshold as he heard the crinkling of wrapping paper and just the tinkle of the bell ornament on their tree, as if someone had brushed against a branch.

He allowed himself a deep breath, counted to three, turned the corner.

And froze.

Standing with a present in its clutches was, what appeared to be, a giant red cricket. On its hind legs, it was taller than the star on the top of the tree, its distended abdomen projecting into the middle of the room. The sides of its forelimbs were covered in a white crust, like dried salt granules. Twitching frantically the bugs antennae tapped all the edges of the gift. As it rapidly rotated the wrapped box, a sinewy mist sprayed from the maw between its mandibles, covering the package. The gift glistened with a sparkly shine. It placed it down and picked up another and performed the same exertion on this one as well.

Timmy, unable to move – or breathe for at least a full minute, finally gulped. The creature’s movements ceased except for its head which swiveled backwards in his direction. Two massive compound eyes that seemed glossy wet gazed at him. Timmy felt the scream rising in him but there was no air in his lungs to expel it.

The insectoid released the package and scrambled over to him so incredibly fast he had a hard time following the advance. The front two legs grabbed him by the shoulders and effortlessly lifted him off the floor and held him just inches from its face. The two pinchers looked like gardening tools his father used to cut branches, their serrated points glowing with the moonshine reflecting in the front window off the new fallen snow. Timmy expected his head to be severed off at any second.

Instead, it used one of its other appendages and gingerly plucked off a piece of the white fleck attached to its edges. Another limb pried open the boy’s mouth and the pellet was inserted into his throat. Timmy had no choice but to swallow it.

He began to tremble and feel unnaturally warm and within seconds the view of the insect’s disgusting head started to tilt and swirl sideways. Then his vision went black.

The aberration went back to its task, finished coating all the packages, then turned with a jerk, crawled up the chimney and flew away to the next house.

In the morning Timmy’s parents came downstairs and found Timmy lying dead still on the couch. His father touched his shoulder and shook his body.

Timmy woke, blinking his eyes.

“So, did you see him?” his dad asked.

“I think… I think I did. I don’t remember,” Timmy answered.

His mom laughed, picked up a present, looked at the label and handed it to her husband, “This one’s for you.”

She manipulated her fingertips peculiarly and wondered, ‘why are these so sticky?’