1. A Blizzard from the Beyond
A vortex sliced through the thick darkness of a moonless sky, bursting open with a thunderous implosion that unleashed furious suction beneath it. The corrugated panels imitating a roof on an auxiliary morgue were sucked away instantly, revealing the squalor of those condemned to rot namelessly in overpopulated cadaver drawers. Packed tightly, torsos and limbs had fused through synchronized putrefaction and rigor mortis. As they were pulled into the sky, conjoined skeletons were evacuated from shared bodies, and entrails fluttered downward as human confetti, leaving gooey lipstick marks on the snow.
2. Chilled to the Bone
When I regained consciousness, my eyelids strained to split the ice that had welded them shut, frantically tugging at an unbreakable bond soldered with hardened, mucus-infused tears secreted by my distress. Their brittle muscles eventually cracked the ice just enough to smuggle in glimpses of my surroundings through crude passageways of eyesight. I was trapped inside a compact freezer, I realized, immobilized by the adherence of my skin to everything it touched, glued in place. And in the kaleidoscope of my peripheral vision, I could see splinters of bone protruding from where my legs should have been.
3. Slay Ride
The impact of the sleigh draped my spine over the front rail like limp tinsel. Ejected vertebrae rattled with involuntary merriment among the perky sleigh bells, mocking their Christmas spirit. Ahead of me, eight reindeer rectums winked back at me with a twinkle in their puckered, wrinkly peepers, subtly threatening to douse me with vaporized holiday cheer. I was indifferent though. The G-force of the flight speed had blown my chest open and fed my lungs my broken, blood-striped ribs like candy canes. Checkmate, reindeer. I win.
4. Santa’s Village of the Damned
Two bulging cherries glowing like nuclear waste peered out from under the elf’s hat, illuminating a bustling colony of sores weeping pus down his cheeks. Lapping up the reservoir on his chin, he maintained eye contact with Santa, controlling the once-jolly man’s mind. “Good,” he said. “Now the other hand.” Santa watched as his bloated fingers reached for the pliers on the table, complying with the elf. Their now-vacant nailbeds were puffy and spurting blood, making him fumble with the workshop’s miniature pincers. Determined to obey, he clamped them onto one of his remaining fingernails, and then proceeded to pull out the rest.
Kat Hearons 
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