Deck the Stalls
It was the night before Christmas.
Lights painted the sky like shards of glass.
Laughter rang out across Blackwater Crossing—bright, warm, and oblivious.
Adults drank and sang. Children chased each other through the snow.
No one sensed the presence lingering far beyond the twinkling lights.
No Grinch. No Scrooge.
This visitor was no fable. Nor a foe to be reckoned with.
Beauty beyond comprehension. Enchantment that could stop a heartbeat. A face like a vision of God Himself—so perfect it made the world feel artificial.
But beneath the illusion lived something old. Something hungry.
Blackwater Crossing’s Annual Christmas Bash.
The town’s holiday party was legendary—eggnog that tasted like gasoline sweetness, a DJ committed to ending the community’s hearing, and enough festive chaos to make anyone forget their problems. At least until they all returned home.
Gerard and Melissa Sunbell needed that escape.
Their marriage had frayed—months of distance, of sleeping back-to-back, of unspoken accusations. Counseling with Dr. Diego Guerrero had been a last attempt at salvaging something that once burned bright. He was the best, but Edgar wondered if the doc was truly what they needed. Something about the town always left him unease. If anything, he felt leaving the town in general, a Road trip, would respire something.
However, Dr. Gurroro insisted they attend the party.
“It’ll do wonders for your connection,” he said with a smile a little too wide, a little too practiced.
He lifted Melissa’s hand and kissed it. Slowly.
Gerard gripped her other hand, pulling it back.
“Thank you,” Gerard said, jaw clenched. “We’ll… enjoy the night.”
For a moment, Gerard and the doctor stared at one another—both smiling, neither genuine.
Melissa broke the tension.
“Well—look at the time. Come on, Gerard. We need to freshen up before the party.”
They left the office. But Gerard’s eyes never stopped tracking Guerrero. Something in that man crawled under his skin. A sense of a mad man, pretending to be what he was portraying.
At Home, their house sat in dim silence. The sour stench of spoiled teriyaki lingered from the sink—three days’ worth of dishes stacked like a monument to procrastination. The story of most who lived a 9-5.
Melissa raised an eyebrow.
“Really?” She said, as she gazed of the sink. She then turned her direction back towards Gerard.
He sighed. “Seriously, now?”
“Oh hush lazyboy, I’ve done the dishes for the past 3 weeks. The least you could do is do it just this once,” she teased. “Such a man child sometimes…”
Melissa chuckled.
But the words stabbed deeper than she intended. Gerard felt old, tired, a shell of what he once was. Maybe she deserved better. Maybe he did too little.
He washed the dishes, the warm water numbing his thoughts.
Upstairs, Melissa stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. She smelled of strawberries and honey. Her body—soft, warm—pressed against his back. Her fingers trailed lower.
He stiffened.
“Mmm… I hope my naughty boy is ready tonight,” she whispered.
“It’s been a long time.”
Gerard turned around from the sink.
Their lips met. The world blurred, and clothes fell.
Together they took another shower, steam blurring every sexual pleasure that fostered behind the door.
Tonight felt like a chance—maybe one last one—at rediscovery of their love.
LET THE PARTY BEGIN
The town hall glowed red and green, lights flickering like electric snowfall. Music thumped through the walls, vibrating the ground beneath them.
“Well… this is it,” Melissa said.
Gerard nodded. “Shall we?”
“Let’s.”
At the entrance, a man and woman guarded a podium with a list.
The woman wore green with a black belt and pointed ears—her beauty unnervingly sharp.
“Merry Christmas!” she chirped.
“Merry Christmas,” the Sunbells echoed.
The stern man beside her asked, “Now—are you feeling naughty or nice tonight?”
Gerard blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”
“If you’re naughty, go left,” he said. “If you’re nice, go right.”
Melissa frowned. “What’s the difference?”
The elven woman’s smile sharpened.
“Well… that depends on how much fun you’re seeking.”
Gerard pulled Melissa aside.
“This is weird. Feels like some freaky setup.”
“I thought the same,” Melissa whispered.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sunbell!” a voice called.
They turned.
Dr. Diego Guerrero waved drunkenly, eggnog sloshing over his sleeve.
“Oh great…” Gerard muttered.
The doctor pushed through the doors, guiding them without hesitation—to the naughty entrance.
“Really?” Gerard said.
“No worries,” the doctor slurred. “You’re in good hands. The best hands…”
He spun down a hallway to a massive set of double doors.
Bass rattled the frame.
Voices roared from behind it.
Dr. Guerrero flung the doors open.
“Let the party begin!”
Inside the “Naughty” Hall, a crystal ball hovered overhead, spraying lights across the room better than a Gen Z rave. Fake snow drifted down like ash, sticking to the sweat on everyone’s body. To the right—an ice rink. To the left—a DJ shaking the building, woman surrounding him as if he was Mr. Claus himself.
Gerard and Melissa smiled at each other.
It looked fun.
Maybe this was what they needed after all.
Then—Dr. Guerrero disappeared into the sweaty crowd.
Gerard turned to Melissa and bowed.
“May I have this dance?”
She blushed. He hadn’t done something romantic like that since high school, neither was he ever all that good at it. But still, she’ always found it adorable.
They danced.
Bodies pressed all around.
Heat, steam, sweat—a strange mix of excitement and claustrophobia.
Then Gerard’s bladder twisted painfully.
“I gotta hit the restroom,” he said.
‘Melissa rolled her eyes. “I told you to go when we were home, but nooooo...”
Gerard shrugged.
Melissa pulled him close and glared at him with intense passion.
“You better be back… naughty boy.”
Gerards pants tightened slightly at her words, although his bladder prevented further embarrassment.
He hurried to the stalls. A long line of men waited.
The guy in front turned.
“Dude, I’ve been waiting like thirty minutes. Two women went in and never came out.”
“What?”
“Yeah man… this party is weird. No clue what's going on in there, but judging by the way they looked, that must be the private party if you catch my drift.”
The man chuckled, but Gerard wasn’t in the mood for any form of comedy.
He glanced back toward the crowd—and froze.
Dr. Guerrero was dancing with Melissa.
Gerard’s stomach dropped.
His bladder screamed.
“Out of my way!” he shouted, shoving through the line.
He burst through the restroom door.
“Hello? Anyone?”
Empty.
The smell hit next—piss, vomit, and something metallic like old blood.
He found a stall, unzipped, and relieved himself. Midstream, he noticed a figure slumped in the corner.
A man.
Cold.
Blue, like a frozen fish.
Adry bottle of whiskey at his side.
A note lay on his chest.
Gerard squinted and stepped closer.
LOOK BEHIND YOU!
He spun.
Nothing—just the door.
No handle.
“What the—? Hey! Open up!”
Silence.
He charged the door with his shoulder. Pain shot down his arm.
He tried again.
Nothing. Except the regret of thinking he could do so in the first place.
“It won’t work,” a woman’s voice said behind him.
Gerard turned.
She wore a red dress and a green elf hat. It was the same woman at the entrance, but different.
Tall—six feet at least.
Skin like polished porcelain.
Eyes like cut diamonds.
Her smile gleamed, two delicate fangs peeking from the corners.
Blood stained her lips.
She wiped it away casually.
A man then fell through the door of one of the stalls.
He was as pale as the man in the corner, blood spewing out of him until there was a puddle.
“Ugh.. what a waste… You interrupted my meal
“You… You killed him?”
“Of course.”
“What the hell do you want from me? Back up!”
She circled Gerard, hips swaying like a predator.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Lady, I don’t have time for this. I just want to get back to my wife.”
The woman laughed, the sound echoing unnaturally.
“Your wife? My dear sweet man… if she’s still out there, I’m afraid her luck has already run out.”
Gerard slammed against the door again in desperation.
The woman closed the distance, placing her cold hands against the wall on either side of him.
Her breath was icy.
Her presence overwhelming.
He backed away.
“What are you—some kind of vampire?”
“Some call me that,” she said.
“Others simply call me… a woman with a thirst.”
Gerard said nothing.
She smiled wider.
“Doctor Guerrero did a wonderful job bringing you here. I’m sure he’s having a divine time turning your wife.”
Something snapped in Gerard.
He lunged, hands around her throat.
He squeezed, screaming, losing himself entirely.
The woman didn’t flinch.
Didn’t struggle.
Didn’t even blink.
When his strength failed, he stumbled back.
“Why… why didn’t you just kill me?” he gasped.
Her grin widened—beautiful, terrifying, hypnotic.
“Because,” she whispered, “I believe you can help me with a certain problem. And when you do…”
She licked a drop of red from her fingertip.
“I’ll give you a taste and maybe you can even have a taste of me.”
Gerard staggered back—but before he could react, she was on him.
Her teeth sank into his neck.
Agony flared—white, blinding—then melted into a strange, medicinal relief, as if pain itself had been anesthetized. The music bled away. The lights dimmed. The world folded inward.
Darkness.
THE LAST DANCE
Hours later, Gerard woke on the bathroom floor.
Cold.
His mouth was dry, his pulse unfamiliar. When he breathed in, the air tasted sweet—like sugar left too long in the sun. He pushed himself upright, every movement deliberate, alien.
He found a mirror.
Fangs pressed against his upper lip. His eyes stared back, glassy and drained, as if life had been edited out of them.
A chuckle echoed behind him.
“What did you do to me?” Gerard demanded.
She lingered in the shadows, eyes glittering like a serpent’s. “What I had to,” she said calmly. “To end the madness.”
“And what madness is that?”
Her grin split wider—meaner than the Grinch’s. She pointed toward the door. “See for yourself.”
Gerard pushed it open.
The party was gone.
Bodies lay where laughter had been. Decorations sagged, soaked. The air was marinated in blood.
Melissa was nowhere.
Gerard dropped to his knees as a violent heat churned through him. His skin slicked with sweat. His vision pulsed.
“What’s happening to me…?”
She floated behind him, fog coiling around her legs. “That, my boy, is the thirst.”
A whimper echoed across the hall.
Her head snapped toward it. “It seems we still have a guest.”
She seized Gerard by the collar and dragged him forward. With every step, the hunger sharpened. His mouth flooded. His nails raked the floor. He screamed until the sound tore loose from whatever he used to be.
She stopped at a long table draped in white. Circled it once—slow, predatory—then flipped it effortlessly.
“Melissa!”
“Gerard!”
Blood stained her clothes—not her own.
“Well,” the woman purred, clapping once. “How interesting.”
“Gerard, what happened to you?” Melissa cried.
He couldn’t answer. All he could see was the pulse at her neck. She smelled impossibly sweet—maple syrup over blueberries—and the hunger roared.
The woman stepped between them. “No. Not yet.”
She turned to Melissa. “Where is Dr. Guerrero?”
Melissa shook her head. “I don’t know—and I don’t want to. I left for a drink. When I came back, he was holding a woman—lifeless—blood everywhere. I ran. He tore through the town just to find me.”
“Melissa—run,” Gerard whispered.
She didn’t move.
Slow applause echoed from the DJ stand.
Dr. Diego Guerrero stepped into the light. His eyes burned gold. A terrified woman trembled beside him.
“Well, isn’t this perfect,” he said. “My ex-wife. The man I want dead. And my future bride.”
Gerard slammed his fist into the floor. “Is this what you wanted? Is this why you turned me—to fight him?”
The woman struck Gerard. He skidded across the floor.
“We are not freaks,” she said coldly. “Only that man is.”
Guerrero shoved the woman at Gerard’s feet. “You look thirsty, my friend. Have a drink before we dance.”
The woman lay unconscious. Her scent was radiant. Overwhelming.
Gerard crawled toward her. The world tunneled.
“Gerard, don’t!” Melissa begged.
“Silence,” Guerrero sneered. “Soon, you’ll be mine.”
The woman stepped in front of Melissa.
“Like hell you will.”
The room held its breath.
Music crackled from dying speakers. Snow machines hissed and sputtered like wounded animals. Blood pooled beneath broken lights, reflecting fractured versions of everyone still standing.
Guerrero smiled, slow and indulgent. “You were always a disappointment, Gerard. Weak. Ordinary. I became more.”
The woman in red stepped forward, her voice calm but lethal. “You became careless.”
Guerrero laughed—and lunged.
The impact shattered a nearby column. The two vampires collided in a blur of red and gold, slamming through tables, walls, bodies. The floor split beneath them. Gerard watched, shaking, his hunger screaming louder than his fear.
“Choose,” the woman hissed to him without looking back. “The thirst—or the man you were.”
Melissa’s eyes locked onto his.
That was the moment.
Not the blood. Not the pain.
Just her.
Gerard roared and surged forward, strength erupting from somewhere deep and feral. He tackled Guerrero mid-strike, sending them crashing across the dance floor. Guerrero snarled, claws raking Gerard’s chest.
“Drink,” Guerrero taunted. “You know you want to.”
Gerard grabbed Guerrero’s head and smashed it into the ice-rink barrier. It cracked—then shattered.
“No,” Gerard growled. “I want you to stop.”
Guerrero shrieked as the woman in red appeared behind him, driving a jagged candy-cane stake through his back. Gerard seized the moment, forcing Guerrero’s head beneath the rink’s freezing surface.
The gold faded from Guerrero’s eyes.
Silence followed.
Snow drifted down.
Melissa rushed to Gerard, clutching him. His breath came ragged. His eyes flickered—human, then not.
“It’s over,” she whispered.
The woman in red watched them, unreadable.
“Not quite,” she said.
Gerard pulled back. “What happens now?”
She studied him. “Now you live with what you are. And with what you choose not to be.”
Melissa swallowed. “Is there a cure?”
The woman smiled sadly. “There’s restraint. There’s purpose. And there’s eternity.”
She stepped backward, dissolving into mist. “Blackwater Crossing will forget this night. But you won’t.”
The lights died.
Sirens wailed somewhere far away.
Gerard stood amid the wreckage, the hunger quiet—but never gone. He took Melissa’s hand.
Outside, Christmas lights blinked back on.
Laughter echoed faintly from streets that remembered nothing.
Above the town, snow fell softly.
And somewhere deep inside Gerard, something ancient opened its eyes—
—not in hunger.
—but in watchful restraint.
As the two held each other, Melissa tilted her head.
“It’s okay Gerard… Its me and you. Forever.
Gerard continued to fight the feeling.
Melissa took a bobby pen, and made a subtle puncture by her neck.
Blood dripped from her neck like sap from a tree.
“Babe, do it.”
Without hesitation Gerard bit down, eyes rolled to the back of his skull like a shark.
Their love was rekindled. Their commitment forged for everlasting.
_THE END
# HolidayHorror #VampireHorror #ChristmasGoneWrong #DarkFiction #IndieAuthor #HorrorStory #FestiveFear #DeckTheStalls