Travis rubbed his mittens together and shivered. A two mile walk home on Christmas because his dad was an idiot and his mom spent too much money on herself to get the car fixed.
“I hate the holidays.” He grumbled and rounded the corner by Mr. Franklin’s house.
As he was passing by, he peered into the yard out of boredom.
Travis stopped and leaned over the gate, squinting. Something was standing in Mr. Franklin’s walkway.
It was a snowman.
Unlocking the gate, he took a last minute glance at either end of the street, making sure it was deserted. He crept into the yard for a closer look.
What the hell was a snowman doing in Franklin’s yard? he wondered. The guy wasn’t exactly the type Travis pictured frolicking around in the snow, sculpting his rendition of Frosty.
When he reached the center of the walkway, he noticed the blood spattered in the snow piled on either side.
Eyes growing wide, chest hitching with short, frightened breaths, Travis walked on.
He was a few steps away from the snowman when he started to gag.
Wearing a crimson-stained Santa hat cocked to one side, Mr. Franklin’s head sat atop two large mounds of snow. Red pools seeped down from the ragged skin around his throat, soaking into the white flakes.
A metallic-green gift card dangled from his neck. Wrinkling his nose, Travis held the card by a corner and read the message scrawled across it in wide, black marker:
“Love,
Your old man.”