The door to his apartment slammed hard behind him. He struggled with the locks. It was all he could do to steady his hand to lock the chain and dead bolt. He turned against the door and let himself slide to his rear. He sat there, trying to slow his breathing. The ache in his lungs stung with each deep and abrupt breath he took.
Outside the door, he could hear the creatures as they ambled up the steps. Surely, someone else has to hear the racket they were making. He looked over at the phone. "Someone has to call the cops," he mumbled as he scrambled to his feet and backed away from the door.
Zak held the receiver in his hand, when the uncanny silence drew his attention away. He returned the receiver, his brow furrowed in curiosity. He moved gingerly towards the door, each step, a quiet cat-like move. Uncertainty ruled his action, and curiosity moved his limbs. Had the creatures gone? Perhaps the old woman had returned? He hoped the latter.
Pressing an ear up against the solid wood door, he listened carefully for any movement or noise from the creatures. He heard nothing, so decided he would open the door. He reached for the dead bolt when he heard them again. Quickly he backed away as the creatures scratched at the door. The noise was incredible. The clawing and now banging that rattled the door. Zak backed away as the door buckled, then began to splinter. Soon the menacing black creatures had broken through his door.
The three black creatures moved intently across the floor to where Zak stood. They were quick, not stopping to play or jest among themselves. Zak crumbled to the floor in fear of the monsters. Their stitched mouths and eyes struggled to open, stretching the stitching until they broke. He tried to scream as the three emerald-eyed beast overtook him. He tried to fight them off - his arms wailed about, but each time he struck the creatures they would just run right back and climb on top of him.
He struggled, hoping that perhaps this too was a dream and that he would wake at any moment in a cold sweat and laugh the whole business off. But they were hurting him now. Their sharp silver claws dung into his flesh as they chattered their jagged silver teeth. He tired, as the pain and insistence of their attack wore him down. He submitted, dropping his hands. He thought about Christmas, and how he was going to see another one. He wasn't so certain now, though days before he wished he'd die and get it over with.
The creatures, they stopped as well. The three gathered around Zak's head, all staring down mischievously at him. Then six little hands reached out and grabbed at his mouth. They forced it open, with remarkable ease. Then one by one they leaned over and crawled into his mouth, forcing their way past his lips. Zak struggled as each of them clawed down his throat. He could feel them wiggling inside his stomach, working their way down.
He screamed, but only the hiss of the creatures could be heard as they consumed him.
* * *
Zak could hear the carolers as they sang a joyful Christmas song. They wandered the street below, bringing cheer to everyone. They came every Christmas morning. Their joy-filled songs of peace and laughter. He found no comfort in them, for three Christmases now.
He grimaced at the pain in his abdomen as he crawled over to the table. He longed for the small bottle, the one filled with the remedy. But it was gone and in its place was a small handkerchief with the name 'Jahobe ' stitched into it. It was a gift from the old woman, who came and retrieved her remedy.
The pain was unbearable, worse than before. The cancer had spread from his abdomen to his stomach and pancreas. Three places now, three places of pain, and no room for relief. The pills all made him sick and he refused hospice care. He rather lay up in his apartment and waste away. Or, perhaps as his cruel fate had already dictated, he would suffer through a fourth Christmas.
Zak Tran did make a list this year. It seemed that Santa didn't deliver to his apartment. He only asked for one thing. Surely the man could accommodate his one wish—death.