Last Christmas

Stacey smiled as she heard the opening strains of Wham’s Last Christmas and lowered herself onto the plush armchair, steaming mug of coffee in hand. Looking down at the two children tearing the wrapping from their mountain of presents, she felt at last like all was well. She had never been one for Christmas but she was almost dizzy with it now, seeing the happiness on their faces. So much love, it threatened to overwhelm her.

The room could have been straight out of a magazine, it was so immaculately decorated. Ornate wreaths hung on the walls and the tree twinkled with warm lights; though with their matching pyjamas and bright smiles, the children were somehow even more perfect.

It hadn’t always been easy but now Stacey had it all; her little boy and girl, her dream house, everything she ever wanted.

“look mummy!” the little girl said, “It’s so beautiful, I’m going to play with it every day!” she stood beside a Victorian dolls house, the remnants of the wrapping paper strewn over the floor.

Stacey felt an odd flutter in her chest and her vision swam grey. The doll house was just like one she had as a child, right down to the painted white flowers crawling up the pink exterior. She had the worst kind of déjà vu that stirred a profound sense of wrongness in her.

Shaking her head, she took a deep drink of coffee. Get a grip of yourself woman, she chided herself, It’s bloody Christmas. The coffee was hot and rich, settling her nerves enough to let her melt back into the happy moment, though that strange familiarity still gnawed at the edges.

“It’s lovely” Stacey forced a smile in her voice. “Santa’s been good to you this year”.

“We can play with it all the time mummy, it’ll be the most fun forever”

Stacey smiled for real this time. She was probably misremembering and overreacting as usual. Today wasn’t about her, it was about the children.

“That’s nothing compared to this!” The little boy shouted, “ Look Mum, a bike!”

There was that awful feeling again. It was uncanny. The bike was powder blue with yellow wheels, an exact copy of the one she had received for Christmas aged seven. There was no misremembering this, a photo of her riding that exact bike had hung on her parent’s wall for years.

“Love, who got you that one?” Stacey said, struggling to keep her tone bright.

“Santa of course, silly.” the boy said sweetly.

“Of course, silly mummy!” Stacey felt frayed, an intense headache beginning to build at her temples. What was wrong with her? She needed to keep everything perfect for the children. They were so beautiful. So sweet. Everything she had ever wished for but those gifts… who had bought them? This seemed like more than a coincidence.

Stacey stood up abruptly, the strange panic reaching a boiling point. In her haste, the coffee dropped and hot liquid sloshed at her feet.

“Mummy, are you okay?” The girl said, concern lacing her voice.

“I’m fine love, but look at the mess I’ve made” Stacey was flustered, the pain in her temples screeching.

“No you haven’t mummy, everything is lovely” the girl replied sweetly. Stacey looked down puzzled. There was no mess. The mug of coffee felt solid and warm in her hands.

“My mistake I…’ she trailed off, trying to find the words, “I think I just need a lie down.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would help quiet the headache. The pain was getting excruciating now and the music wasn’t helping. It felt like it was getting louder, and why was it still playing anyway? She didn’t remember Last Christmas being this long.

As soon as the thought passed her mind, the song started to distort, the dulcet tones of George Michael warping into a terrible shriek.

Stacey covered her ears. “Please, make it stop!” She yelled, pain and panic overtaking her.

“Mummy, are you okay?” the little boy shouted back. She wanted to console him but everything was wrong. She couldn’t even remember their names.

Oh god, what were their names?

She forced her eyes open. The music stopped, leaving them in terrible silence. The boy and girl stood in front of her, smiling.

She didn’t know who they were.

“You’re not my children, are you?” Stacey said, the realisation numbing her.

“It’s easier if you don’t fight it mummy” the little girl replied, her voice saccharine.

Reality was starting to seep in. This wasn’t her house. This wasn’t her life.

“I don’t have any fucking children, I’m a student, I still live at home for fuck sake!”

“We’re trying to help you” the boy said, reaching out to her, “just take my hand and we’ll make the pain go away”.

And pain there was, she felt like she was going to burst with it.

What the fuck is happening?

She wasn’t going to take his hand, he was a stranger, this was all wrong. So wrong. She watched in horror as the children’s faces began to distort until their features were completely blank. Stacey screamed. The pain reached a crescendo and she felt herself falling into blackness, the illusion shattering

….

Stacey’s eyes fluttered open and she felt her body twitch lamely. She tried to move but she was paralysed. She wasn’t alone though, a figure was crouching beside her. The dread she felt was matched only by the pain that now engulfed every nerve in her body. With her heart racing, stacey swivelled her eyes over to the figure and even in the low light she could tell it wasn’t human. Its clawed fingers were splayed on her chest, forcing her down. Worse, much worse, she felt the awful thing suckling wetly at her temple. She now knew what was causing her agony and tried to scream out but her throat was so dry she managed only a pathetic yelp.

The creature was probing the inside of her head with its tongue.

The awful pressure of it violated her, pressing against her skull. It defied everything she knew to be true but the thing was inside her, lapping at her brain like a fucking ice cream. With a horrible finality, Stacey realised she wasn’t getting away from this. All she wanted now was for the pain to disappear, to go back to that happy place.

“Shh, mummy” she heard a sweet voice say inside her head. “Come back to us, we’ll make it go away.

Please, She thought desperately. Help me.

“We’ll make it perfect for you this time mummy.”

Stacey could barely keep her eyes open now but saw two faceless children hovering on her periphery. She let her eyes flutter shut and the pain mercifully started to recede. Music played faintly in the distance as Stacey felt herself be pulled into the blackness.

……

Stacey smiled as she heard the opening strains of Wham’s Last Christmas and lowered herself onto the plush armchair, steaming mug of coffee in hand. Looking down at the two children tearing the wrapping from their mountain of presents, she felt at last like all was well…