Naughty or Nice

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By J.D. Richardson

She descended carefully, baseball bat in hand. Avoid the creaking step. Someone was in her house, she heard the stealthy movement. Living alone, it was the one thing she was terrified of.

She heard a sound, a faint tinkling, saw a shadow appear, a hulking shape. Fear and anger brought bile to her throat, her heart lurched like a fist attempting to break from her chest. She struck, again and again. Her breath came hard as she looked down where he lay, a figure in red, white trim, boots sprayed with dark droplets.

She’d forgotten it was Christmas Eve.

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