 You must never spoke tostin' in terror, I'll be scared if you'll startin' Silent night, deadly fright, All is dead within sight, Round John basement blood and guts flow, Screaming infants run through the snow, Spooky Santa is here, Spooky Santa is here, here, here. Wasn't sure I could hit that note. Hello children, welcome back to Spooky Santa. That's me, I'm Santa Claus and I have more scary stories to share with you today. I have a special story that was emailed to me from one of the children on my good list. Kimberly lives in La Mesa, California and she tells a story about what her older brother saw, which is even more terrifying when you hear what happened afterward. Author Jessica Bayless brings us a story about a brand new Christmas Carol that brought jitters instead of joy. But first, I have a scary tale about three sisters who ask their parents for Christmas presents. Now why would that be scary you ask? Well, keep listening and you will find out. Now, bolt your doors, lock your windows, turn off your lights, pour a mug of hot cocoa and come with Spooky Santa for another holiday chiller. There was a merry couple who had three daughters. The oldest was 15, the middle one was 12 and the youngest daughter was 7 years old. On Christmas, the oldest daughter asked for a laptop computer, the middle daughter asked for an iPad and the youngest daughter asked for a small doll. On Christmas Day, they all unwrapped their presents beneath the Christmas tree. The oldest and the middle daughter received exactly what they had asked for. But the youngest daughter, who wanted the doll, was surprised to receive instead a clown puppet. However, the clown puppet was so cute, she decided to keep it and two days later, the youngest girl disappeared. The next Christmas, the oldest daughter asked for an iPad, the middle daughter asked for a clown puppet in memory of her little sister and two days later, the middle daughter disappeared as well. The next Christmas, the last remaining daughter asked for a clown puppet in memory of her two younger sisters who disappeared. And then, you guessed it, two days later, she too disappeared. The parents became very poor and were forced to sell their furniture for money. One day, they went into the attic looking for something else they could sell. And there, in a dark recess of the attic, in a dark corner, they saw the clown puppet. It was sitting on a throne made from lollipop sticks and arranged all around where the severed heads of the three missing girls. Well, that's a creepy Christmas tale. I sure hope that's not based on a true story. I'm pretty sure it's not. I sure hope so. Hey, if you would like to write a scary story for me, you can send it to me at letters at spookycenta.com. And then, I can read your story in an upcoming episode. I love receiving emails. Email, we get email. We get your email every day. Here's your mail today. I received a great email from La Mesa, California. Kimberly is 12 years old and she sent me this story that we'll call Devil in the Closet. Here is what she wrote. There is five years between my older brother and I. One night, shortly after I was brought home, my brother was asleep in his room. He heard knocking and scraping around in his closet. He woke, sat up in bed and watched a man he described as the devil exit his closet. He walked to the foot of his bed, smiled and said, I'll see you soon, kid. And then returned to the closet. My brother, understandably terrified at this point, went running into my parents' room and immediately told them what had happened. For the next few nights, they let him sleep with them. And just a few nights later, the ceiling in my brother's room collapsed, crushing his bed. Had he been in bed, he would have been killed. Nothing is scarier than strange, true tales like that. Thank you for sharing, Kimberly, and I'm so glad to hear your brother is okay. That way you can celebrate Christmas with him year after year and not worry about that devil in the closet. My final story is something a bit strange. If you like to sing Christmas carols like I began this episode with, well, this one's going to be for you. It's another story about a carol, but this carol is a bit terrifying. And you'll find out why as I read The Carol by Jessica Bayless. Here's the story. It wasn't until the end verse of the new song that everyone went crazy. Mr. Bellinger sprang the carol on us at the last minute. Nobody complained except me. He was all like, now Zachary, you know this tune, everyone does. You just have to read the words. Shouldn't be hard for a seventh grader like you. Out loud, I said, all right, Mr. B. But in my head, I thought, I never wanted to sing at school on Christmas Eve in the first place. Mr. Bellinger made an announcement before the new song. Parents, students, teachers, and friends, we have a little surprise this afternoon. I found this next carol in an antique text. It's an old wassal song. It used to be sung all over England by working folk who'd go door to door for Christmas treats. But nobody has sung this version for hundreds of years, not until today. You'll find the lyrics in your programs. Merry Christmas. Well, the first couple verses of the carol were all normal. Stuff I'd heard before about wassaling all over town, and good cheer and blessings for the mistress of this house, whoever she was. But the last verse sounded weird, even the non-Latin part. We'd sung Latin before, but still you'd think Mr. B would have given us a warning or something. Veni valint, take all lives longest. Come fill us of the strongest. Else tricks he give ye. Veni valint. Come pray the maker, fill the bowl, and let it round the table troll. Or shame and pranks he'll have for ye. Veni valint. Only I never got to sing that part, because Mark Brody yanked again on his tie that his mom forced on him, and he bumped me with his elbow when I dropped my music. Shelly Jenkins laughed at me, and that made my cheeks hot. My neck, too, and my hands were all sweaty when I grabbed my folder from under Joey Black's retro Jordan. When I stood up, my stomach felt funny, but not only because of Shelly. Cackles, high-pitched and cold mixed with the song. Everyone kept singing, though, like they couldn't hear it. My mom sat in the audience fanning herself with the program. Dad shook his head at me, but pulled at his collar like, well, like he was hot, too. He stopped to clap for the end of the concert. Finally. But we still had the party to get through before we could go home to start real Christmas. All the clapping turned into loud talking as everyone headed for the food. That was very nice, Zack, Mom said when I pushed my way to them through the crowd. Is it just me or is it hot in here? I'm dying. Can we go now, please, I said. Ho, ho, ho! Shouted a deep voice. How festive, Mom said. Santa's here. Let's go see him. Mom, I'm too old for Santa. I wasn't talking about you, she said. What? Come on, Steve. She elbowed my dad a crazy grin on her face. Let's go tell the big guy what we want. She grabbed her hand and then they ran. No, no, they skipped to the corner where the line was already growing. They wouldn't. They would. They are. They didn't even wait their turn. Mom got right up in front of Jenny Evans, which was kind of cool because Jenny's a snob anyway. But still, she, Mom, sat on Santa's lap in front of the whole school. Even worse, Dad did too. This had to be a nightmare. Some messed up nightmare. Please, let it not be real. I looked around in case anyone was watching, but no one was. Everyone was acting weird. Tanisha Johnson pranced around on stage, singing a Beyonce song into the microphone with no music, and it did not sound good. Like at all. Mrs. Rodriguez, the English teacher, wrestled the mic from Tanisha, but then she started reciting poetry into it. Tanisha tugged the mic, but Mrs. Rodriguez wouldn't let go. She spouted on about how death and obvious enmity shall peace forth or whatever. Watch me dunk. Joey Black shouted it out. He blew by me in a running start for the basketball net. Who was he fooling? Joey couldn't even make a basket from the free throw line. Before he could go for it, he slipped on some spilled punch and landed face first into the cake that the home and careers class had made. Me and Lee laughed her butt off, but I forgot all about Joey's frosting face when a sixth grader tripped her. I don't know if it was an accident or what, but she fell and her dress went up. I looked away real fast, but Kendall Islam jumped and shouted and pointed, Fruit of the Looms! Everyone wears Fruit of the Looms, everyone! Kendall's boyfriend John came over and that's when Kendall's face went green. What's wrong? John asked. I don't. Kendall puked all over John's legs and shoes. Gross! John said. Oh my gosh! Kendall wailed and then sobbed all the way to the girl's locker room. Zach, what's wrong with everyone? A voice said. Shelly Jenkins. I couldn't even look at her. If I tried, my cheeks would get red again, so I kept my eyes on the party. Except it wasn't a Christmas party. Not anymore. My mom was arguing with a ninth grader over one of Sana's presents. I caught her eye and mouthed, Let's go please! I made prayer hands under my chin and everything, but mom only crossed her arms and shook her head at me. Oh no! Shelly pointed. Mr. Shepard, the math teacher, had arranged the dessert plates so that they all lined up just right. When Bruce Belsky tried to take a cookie, Mr. Shepard slapped his hand away. I don't think his dad liked that, I told Shelly. And he didn't. Bruce's dad shouted in Mr. Shepard's face. Mr. Shepard shouted back, then shoved Bruce's dad in the chest. What is happening here? Shelly asked. I have no idea, I said. He danced. A teacher cried. I cringed when Simon Cherry snuck up behind Kim Warner, tapped her on the shoulder, and opened a can of soda that he'd been shaking, right in her face. We have to do something, Shelly said. Like what? I don't know. It's like they're all possessed or something. The carol, Mr. Bellinger said from behind us, he grabbed Shelly's arm and stared hard into her face. It was a joke, he said. We sang a song but didn't make an offering to the spirit. What do you mean? She asked. He didn't stay around to answer. He ran to the stage and wrestled the microphone away from Mrs. Rodriguez, and then started singing some opera song. I almost wished for Tanisha's Beyonce imitation again. It was that bad. Did you hear that? Shelly asked. Yeah, Mr. B can't hit the high notes. He had a finger in my ear. Not that. He said something about the carol. I'll bet he means the new song he added to the concert. I got a weird feeling when everyone else sang that last verse. Everyone else, I said. You mean you didn't sing it? That's right. She'd been laughing when I dropped my music, which is why I hadn't sung that part. I felt weird too and I heard Shelly put her hand on my arm. I stared at it like I'd never seen a hand before. She'd painted her fingernails sparkly red. Zack, did you hear me? I snapped my eyes to her face. What? We have to find that book. Where the song came from, that's gotta be it. She tugged my hand and we bolted across the gym dodging crazed partygoers until we reached the hall. It's unlocked. Shelly slipped inside Mr. B's office. We rummaged through drawers and understacks of papers. Here, I said, wow, it really is an antique. Cracked red leather covered the book. Shelly read the gold lettering. Charming chance. What a bonehead. This isn't a book of Christmas songs. It's a spell book. Come on, that stuff's not real. She put a hand on her hip. Then how do you explain what's going on out there? Even from here, all of us in the gym rang out loud and clear. Shrieks, laughs, voices singing silent night but all out of sync. Crashes, bangs, thumps. It sounds pretty bad. Pretty bad. She made that face where her eyebrows scrunched up and her lip gets pouty. Okay, okay, it's bad. Let's see. She flipped through the pages. Here it is. And the lint, the trickster. He haunts celebrations at Yuletide. I knew I hated Latin. Does it say how to get rid of him? Hold on. Maybe there's a counter chat or something. Her lips moved as she read. I've got it. We need to sing these lines. I had to sing in front of Shelly. Maybe you should do it alone, I said. No, it says many voices. Shout dispel him. We'll be lucky if just two is enough. I huffed out of breath. Fine. I had to get close to read the words. So close our shoulders brushed. I cleared my throat. Ready? Shelly met my eyes and nodded as she counted. One, two, three. Crevalent. Let's dawn take ye. Be gone for present. No tricks we will give ye. Crevalent. My bowl is empty. No carols to troll. All pranks beended. Crevalent. My voice cracked. Twice. Shelly clenched the book so tightly. Her fingers turned white and her hands shook. What's wrong? I asked. I don't know. I can't hold it. Wind roared through the room. All the papers on Mr. B's desk flew into the air. The wind whistled higher and higher and louder. I covered my ears. When a gust tugged the book from Shelly's hands she covered her ears. The book smacked against the wall. It stuck for a second then slid to the floor. The pages turned by themselves. When they stopped everything got quiet. Even the party down the hall went silent. Like we were in some kind of bubble. Shelly wrapped her arms around me and pressed her cheek into my shoulder. This surprised me so much I forgot about the book for a second. Zack, look! Smoke curled up from the book's pages. It spiraled higher and darkened forming the shape of a tall, skinny, troll man with limbs no thicker than table legs. Spikes stuck out where his ears should have been. Now I could tell where the smoke came from. Fire burned from each of the lint's fingertips like teeth. The lint's fingertips like ten candles. The spirit's smile was so huge it barely fit his face. Oh my goodness! Shelly whispered. The lint threw his head back and cackled My dears! What fun you've given me! You're supposed to leave, I shouted. We sang the song. I shall but first one last prank. He darted at our heads. Shelly screamed and hit her face. Flinching from the flames, I threw my arms around her. But before he touched us, the lint burst into a million particles of dust that fell like ugly, dirty snow. He's gone. I tried to look all around me at once. Shelly peaked with one eye. Really? Think so? She straightened. And that's when I did something so crazy even while it was happening. It was messed up. So totally messed up. I kissed Shelly on the lips. She smelled like the punch from the party. Her lips were pink from it. They tasted pink. Her eyes, wide from the ghost, got even wider. The lint made me. I jumped back. The lint's crackling voice sing-songed all around us. Tricks for ye! Tricks for ye! Until his words faded to nothing. I tried to look at Shelly without actually looking at her. Should we see if everyone's okay? She asked after a minute. Uh, yeah. Before I could take a step, she slipped her fingers with their red glittery nail polish into my hand. Her hand was warm. As we walked, she clapped her free hand over her mouth and giggled. They're all going to be so embarrassed. I know. Good thing we didn't do anything we'll regret. Totally. I love it when the hero gets the girl in the end. Well, did you like the stories I told kids? If so, do Santa a big favor and tell your friends and family about the Spooky Santa podcast. That way, they can listen too. And remember, you can write your own scary story and email it to me at LettersAtSpookySanta.com I love scary stories and true stories, so long as they're spooky, I love getting them. If you want to learn more about the stories that I've told or the authors who wrote them, you can find links in the episode's show notes. Spooky Santa is a registered trademark of Martler House Productions. Copyright Martler House Productions. Now, be a good little boy or girl and join me next time for more creepy tales from Spooky Santa. Hoo-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!