My greatest horror story

Image for representation only

I discovered the pleasure of writing when I was eight. I started off writing a horror story called 'Magical Fort' which was in fact a compilation of 'Jumanji' and 'Alice in Wonderland'. It was more of a fantasy story than a horror story. After receiving a pat on the back and a kiss, from Achan and Amma respectively, I began indulging in the pursuit of story ideas, horror story ideas.

My search for good horror movies online stopped after a while, due to Amma's frowns and persuasive talks. So I did what I do best; observe. I would talk to my friends and also eavesdrop other people's conversation in the hope of finding something, a tad scary at least so that I could write about it. I would observe my surroundings, trying to find something creepy, something spooky. And I did. And the funniest thing is, I'm just a few months away from being an adult, and it still creeps me out. I get the same feeling I got that day, this coldness spreading through me, and the phrase 'frozen in fear' suddenly making sense.

It was December, my favourite month of the year, because that was the month of my favourite celebration, Christmas. And our school was holding a Christmas celebration. Everyone else was excited because they could wear casual dresses. But I didn't need anything else to be excited. The mere thought of Christmas excited me, and it was that day I saw HIM. His mere entrance into our school brought everyone's eyes on him. He wore this old ragged clothes, completely black. His teeth had yellow stains, I mean the teeth that were left, he wore a half-sleeve shirt and on his arms, there was a number written, not completely visible due to the sleeve. But it was his eyes, the cold bloody eyes that creeped me out. His eyes clearly spelled 'purpose.' He had come here for a purpose. And I really didn't feel it was 'charity.'

And then my senior, Nina told me something.

'I know who he is' she said.


'Evil Santa,' she replied.

'Yeah, right,' I rolled my eyes.

'Look at the numbers, the numbers on his arms.

'It is 6...something...'

'Yeah, it could be 666.'

'That's...' I was confused.

'Yes…the Satan's number,' she elaborated.

'The evil always appears on the greatest days. It's obvious. Why do bad things happen to good people? You think God wants something bad to happen to us? It's the Satan's doing. And on Christmas, to ruin the happiness of people, Satan appears as a counterpart of Santa, and I call him Evil Santa.’

'That's a hoax,' my sister, whom Amma forced to go along with me, laughed it off.

'Trust me on this. Today something bad is going to happen.'

'Stop trying to scare my sister, jerk!’

'You're calling me a jerk? You should look in the mirror.' And before it could turn out to be a full-fledged fight, with hair pulling and tugging at each other's dresses, I dragged her away.

But I never stopped thinking about what Nina said. And what she said started making more sense as I thought about it more and more.

After Priya maam gave all of us pastries and sweets, we decided to part, and suddenly a scream erupted out of the hall. I was sure, of what it was. It was 'him.' He had hurt someone! A feeling of fear and hatred spread through me. I won't let evil ruin the happiness of this day, no matter what. I prayed to god, having faith in him, believing he will protect me for sure. I do go to church every Sunday. So if I'm loyal to him, he will protect me, I thought.

I ran towards the hall, amidst the crowd. Then I saw something really unexpected. Sougand sir, along with two security guards, were dragging him away from the hall, out of the school compound. They must've found out he was evil. What if he attacks them? I prayed for a minute, especially for Sougand sir cause he is a great teacher. Who would teach us Maths if he dies? No one can replace him. He is that great. Then I saw the satan crying. And that really confused me. Why should he cry? We are the ones that should cry. Not him. He was also saying something. 'Please… I have a grandson. All we have is that house… we have nothing else….'

As Sougand sir kept on dragging him away, he screamed, 'Please.. don't make us leave... this school already has everything... why do you have to extend...? if that house is destroyed where will I raise him. He only has me…please…'

Evil Santa has a grandson. It wasn't making sense at all. He was dragged out of the school building and then school door was shut. I felt like I should know more about this peculiar evil. By that time, this is the information I've got about Evil Santa. He is an old man, he has a number written on his arms with a sketch that seemed like 666 from the distance and he also has a grandson. I was getting more and more curious. I wanted to know more about him. I ran towards the door and before Sougand sir or anyone else could stop me, I was outside. And it was raining. I saw the evil santa desperately attempting to walk fastly. He was just too old. I followed him.

Before I could even scream 'no,' he started crossing the busy road quickly and before I could even close my eyes, a large truck with a pile of goods ran over him.

Even now, I remember the terrible sight of his body, of what remained of his body and the tires and road soaked in blood.

I witnessed a death, a terrible gruesome death and I just stayed there, wide-eyed having lost the voice to shout or scream or cry. My pursuit for a great horror story led me to the greatest horror story I will or ever find in my whole life… but it came at a cost.. I lost my voice!

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