Tuesday, 31 January 2012

Ho Ho Ho

As previously stated, this was a piece of work for university... but I quite like it and thought it deserved a place here, I hope you find it to be entertaining.

Ho Ho Ho

Detective Martin Goodman was tired, it was just after 6pm on Christmas Eve and he was done for the day at 8. It was an annoyance to him therefore when his captain dropped something on his desk. "This diary was found on a cross country train just over an hour ago Goodman. I want you to read it thoroughly. Read it and think on it over Christmas Day because you’re back on Boxing Day and we’re going to get to the bottom of it. Is that clear?” Martin scowled but decided that reading a diary was not too taxing a last assignment before he had his day off. 

“Yes sir, I’ll read it a few times through.”
“Good lad” the captain replied.
“There’s been a death and a disappearance linked to this diary, so get cracking... Happy holidays.”

Martin sat in his cubicle and thumbed through the diary, it was in fairly good shape and he assumed any fingerprints or other vitals had been taken from it and he was in no danger of contaminating the evidence. He got himself a cup of coffee and resigned to his dull task, flipped to page one.
19th December 2011
My my how much I have been writing! This is part three of my diary project, the start of a brand new book, and what a start it has been to the new volume! Something slightly odd happened today, I drove home from work in high Christmassy spirits and when I arrived, there was a plastic Father Christmas sitting in our garden! (Excuse all the exclamation marks dear diary, I have been told from time to time at work that I use too many but I am in high spirits! Why should I not!? I will use as many as I like! This is my private diary after all! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So there!) The squat little Father Christmas looked rather jolly and Nigel’s joke made me giggle. He got home from work only a few minutes after me and I asked him where he had got them from. He laughingly told me that he had never seen the thing before and he asked me where I had got it from! We both laughed and "agreed to disagree", I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough where he got it from. I had him take a picture of me next to it, maybe I’ll show it to some people at work to see if they recognise the exact model. The whole thing surprises me because it really isn’t his sense of humour. But oh well, it made me smile!

20th December 2011
 Today was mind-numbingly boring so I won’t comment too much on it. I’m sure more interesting things used to happen at work, clearly since I got this diary the only interesting thing in my life is the stupid plastic statue in the garden. When I got home from work it wasn’t where it had been the day before, it had got a bit closer to the house... It’s been windy and stuff but surely if it had been blown along it would have been knocked down? Oh well... I can’t believe this is the end of my entry! Really though, nothing else of note has happened. Signing off for today then.
21st December 2011
After work today, Nigel went out to load the bird feeder. The first thing I did when I woke up was look outside and the Father Christmas had not moved, which was most reassuring. Anyway when he went out there he asked where I had put the “damn silly thing” and to my surprise (and I have to admit diary, some relief) the thing was gone! Completely disappeared. I told him he was hysterical and decided against any kind of quarrel, “I can’t be bothered with this joke anymore” I thought to myself. I sat down in the kitchen with a cup of tea and watched Nigel loading up the feeder when the most amazing thing happened... the Father Christmas dropped clean out of the tree above him and hit him on the head! It didn’t really hurt him but it was enough to annoy him and came striding in and started shouting at me about “could have been seriously hurt” and “not funny in the slightest” etc. etc. This of course threw me right off because I know I didn’t climb that tree and stick the stupid thing in it, and I’m sure he wouldn’t have set himself up like that just for some over elaborate joke. He eventually calmed down and accepted that I hadn’t rigged it up either. We agreed that after work tomorrow we would chuck it in a tip somewhere. I am feeling happier about the whole thing now I have to say, whatever happened this afternoon it will all be over very soon.
22nd December 2011
I am now scared, diary. Very very scared, it feels like my sanity is caving in on me and I don’t know who to talk to. I should explain. This morning started like any other Thursday except for my checking the Father Christmas in the garden. I have never screamed so loudly I don’t think and Nigel came running down in alarm. Together we approached the statue and Nigel picked it up. The smiling, jolly face was gone, the cheeks shrunken and the eyes no longer twinkling with merriment but burning with rage and hate. The statue was silently screaming in apparent agony, its face contorted like it was suffering some unbearably awful pain, I have already mentioned the eyes but by God you can’t imagine the awful ferocity of the look they gave us. “Get the car started, Darlene” Nigel told me. “We’ll go to work later” and I obediently ran into the house to hastily change and started the car up, Nigel threw the horrid thing in the boot and we drove it several roads away and chucked it into the first tip we saw. We went to work late (a first for us both) and I have rarely stopped shaking all day. I have a feeling of dread that I cannot shake off, I truly hope we have seen the last of the foul entity.

23rd December 2011
If this does not end soon we will be moving away from our house. Our beautiful house that was once such a comfort to me when I spent my Christmases here as a little girl... the long hallways now look threatening and I’m starting to wonder if my sanity will stay intact for much longer. Threats are everywhere, most of all inside my head. This morning I looked out the back, there was nothing unusual but after I had eaten my breakfast and my heart rate had returned to normal (it had only been raised by anticipation, anticipation which had been encouraged by my awful nightmares and visions) I left for work. When I opened the front door I screamed and sobbed, there it was again. What’s more there was a bang and a smash, as I ran backwards into the kitchen there was another one, an identically hate filled little man dressed in a Father Christmas outfit. It was sitting outside the back door and the glass was smashed on the inside of the kitchen, I had of course only looked here moments ago and there was no such intruder. Nigel arose and again we loaded up the car and this time drove to a dedicated tip over two miles away. We threw the figures into the humongous industrial bin and drove out of there as quickly as possible. We are having the window mended tomorrow but I would rather we just left, I don’t know what powers are trying to spook us out of the house but they have been successful. Their attempts of terrorism and intimidation are working, I confided this to Nigel who scoffed and said he was going to ring the police. The officers came round but appeared derisive and seemed to think we were a couple of basket-cases. Maybe they were right, I certainly don’t feel like I used to and I’m sure that before this monstrous nightmare began I wasn’t a basket-case. Or maybe I was and now I am sane? Or maybe there is truly no such thing and we really are all just brains in labs? Whatever the case I do feel disconnected from the reality I used to embrace, understand and enjoy existing within.
24th December 2011
It is just after four in the morning, I am fleeing forever. I don’t know where the next train is going to but it will be here at just after six and I’m getting on regardless. I woke up just over an hour ago to find a scene that shall forever haunt me. Nigel lay in the same position on his back that he does every night, I’m not sure what awoke me but when I did surface I screamed like never before. A large serrated blade was sticking straight out of his neck. As I threw open the door sobbing and shrieking I would estimate over 300 of the plastic statues came tumbling into my bedroom. I practically rode them down the stairs, there were hundreds more on the landing and downstairs. I grabbed my purse and some clothes and simply ran. The house is over-run, once I am suitably far away I am going to... well I’m not sure, I’m going to find somewhere to report the whole thing and try and come to terms with it. IF I make it that far, I genuinely don’t know what rules I am playing by anymore. If bits of plastic can consciously commit a murder then what’s to stop the very bricks I walk on turn into giant cabbages and eat me? I intend to keep this diary on me and keep it updated over the next day or two, it is the only thing that can distract from my grief and terror. It’s too cold to write anymore so I’m putting my pen and diary back into my pocket, Godspeed.
PS I have stuck in the picture from when the entity first arrived for reference.
Goodman finished it for a third time and sighed in annoyance; he had seen this kind of nonsense before. Some well off middle aged lady had finally snapped and murdered her husband and thought it a good idea to try and indicate some over the top ‘Fantastic’ macabre story to cover the whole thing. He wasn’t yet sure what kind of criminal she was but her recklessness in leaving such a document proved she was not a particularly savvy person when it came to covering her tracks and he was sure they would be picking her up within a few days. The picture was stuck in the back of the diary and he looked at it for a moment, the woman in the picture had demon red eyes as did the Father Christmas and they were both pointing straight into the camera. This un-nerved him slightly but after a moment he simply snorted and left the office, locking the diary and picture away in his desk.

The drive home was peaceful, most people were either in their local pub or spending time at home with their families, in a few hours it would be Christmas and he was looking forward to the good food, beer and the beautiful new watch he knew his wife had bought for him. He stepped out onto his drive, blowing on his chilly and hands and strolled up to the front door. His wife opened it for him as his keys rattled and they smiled at each other, they kissed for a moment and then he walked into the warmth of the hallway. “I like it!” She grinned. He frowned at her for a moment, 
“Like what?
“I must have missed it when I woke up this morning”.

Dread poured through his stomach and he asked slowly
“Missed what?”
“The wreath you numpty!”

He frowned for a moment before laughing. “Ohhh, the wreath!” He had completely forgotten the wreath that he had picked up the previous day and put on their front door to surprise her. She chuckled “Yeah, what’s wrong with you?” she giggled. He sat down in the living room and relaxed. “Nothing.” She left for a moment and then he heard her voice from the kitchen calling – “Oh yeah, and the back garden looks nice too. Did you get that plastic Father Christmas at the same time?”

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