My Auntie Shelley used to tell Jack and I scary stories on Christmas Eve. She called them the South Pole Christmas Goblins. And, every year, on Christmas Eve, my baby brother and I would gather around the fireplace and listen to her tell stories. 

"These things," She'd start, "are not like any creature that you have ever seen before. In fact, no one has truly seen them. For when their time comes to strike, they slink into a human's body." 

One year, I thought about it and said, "Like a possession."

Auntie Shelley nodded. "Yes, Jenny. Like a possession." 

Jack shuddered, sloshing his hot chocolate everywhere. 

Auntie Shelley never noticed. "Now, these things, they only possess a human who has done something bad. Real bad. Bad enough to wake them from their slumber."

"Like stealing a cookie?" Jack whispered, his voice barely audible over the roar of the fire. 

Shelley shook her head. "No. Much worse."

Her story was always the same. How the Christmas Goblins would possess the person who did something wrong, use their body to kill any living thing in a household, and then leave the person's body. It was a form of punishment, Shelley said, leaving behind the person to deal with the gruesome aftermath. Then, that person would be kept alive to tell the Christmas Goblin's story. To warn others that they could be next. 

Of course, according to Auntie Shelley, the Christmas Goblins could only strike on Christmas Night. Once the clock struck midnight, and the date was officially December 26th, the Christmas Goblins could do no more damage until the following year. 

Years had gone by, but Jack and I still settled in to listen to Auntie Shelley's tale. It was tradition. This year, though, her story struck no fear in me as it had when I was a child. I was bored, after hearing the story for ten years. Auntie Shelley had taken seven-year-old me and three-year-old Jack in after a terrible automobile accident that killed both of our parents. I loved Shelley, she had raised us, but her stories were always the same. 

Jack was thirteen. But the look in his eyes clearly told me that he was scared, and that he didn't want to hear Shelley's story as much as I did. 

"These things are not like any creature you've ever seen before." 

"Stop," I told her, setting my mug of hot chocolate down on the ground with a thud. 

"What is it, Jenny?" 

"You tell this same old story every year. Can we please hear another one?" My voice dripped in annoyance, but I tried my best to be civil. 

"Jenny, you know I must tell you this to warn you. It is my duty to protect you children." 

"Auntie, look at Jack," I motioned to my brother next to me. "This story that you tell scares him to death."

Auntie Shelley took a deep intake of breath. "As it should." 

Losing all patience, I rolled my eyes. "I'm sick of this. I could practically quote the entire story word-for-word. Don't you think we understand your warning by now? Ten years of this mess?"

Shelley's eyes went out of focus as she stared at nothing in particular. "Ten years already?"

"Yes, Auntie. Ten years." My voice was a mixture of calm and firm. 

Suddenly, Shelley returned and glanced at Jack, who was watching intently. "Jack," she said with fondness, "do you not want to hear my story of the South Pole Christmas Goblins?"

Jack was silent. 

The only noise was the roar of the fire. 

"Very well." Auntie Shelley said and stood up. She walked out of the room without another word. 

Jack and I stayed put for a moment, expecting her to come back. She did not. So, I quickly ran upstairs to my room and slammed the door shut. 

~ ~ ~ 

Even though it was Christmas, I locked myself in my room for the whole day. I did not want to speak to Auntie Shelley. Did not want to hear her foolish tales of goblins that belong to Halloween. 

I heard Shelley and Jack opening presents downstairs. At one point, Shelley even knocked on my door, begging me to join them. 

"Please, Jenny. It's Christmas! Do not act like this one Christmas!" 

I groaned from underneath my bedcovers. "Why? Will the Christmas Goblins come and snatch me up?"

"Jenny, you know they do not work that way..."

I rolled my eyes but said nothing. I listened as her footfalls padded away from my door. 

A while later, after dusk had settled in, my stomach grumbled. I did my best to open my door as silently as possible, as not to alarm Shelley or Jack. I started down the stairs, into the hallway that led to the kitchen, but stopped when I heard a voice coming from Auntie Shelley's room. 

"But we can't take her with us? Why?" It was Jack who spoke, quiet as a mouse. 

"I have already explained this to you. It is for the best. She might not believe me, but I know that you do, right, Jack?" Auntie Shelley. 

I listened closely, but I heard no reply come from my brother. 

Auntie Shelley sighed. "Fine. I am going to tell you the rest of the story, okay? I am going to tell you something that I haven't told another soul."

My ears pricked up. 

"Ten years ago, on Christmas Day, I made an awful mistake." Shelley paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "It was Christmas, you see, and we all had had too much wine. Your mother and grandmother took you two little ones to bake cookies at Grandmother's house."

Even through the closed door, I heard Auntie Shelley gulp. 

"Your father and I agree to stay behind and clean up the mess that was left from unwrapping all of those presents. But we had too much wine and... did some things that we should have never done." 

I almost gasped, but did not want to give myself away. 

"Your mother, my dear half-sister, she never found out. But she left you two at Grandmother's house after passing out from cookie baking. She came home later that night." Silence for just a moment. "We swore to each other that it would never happen again. We swore we would never tell sweet Helen."

Anger bubbled into my blood. 

"But, that night, when the house was silent, I woke up. It was midnight. My hands were covered in..." But she choked out a sob, then fell silent. 

"The Christmas Goblins..." Jack whispered. 

Shelley must have nodded. "Ever since that night, I vowed to do everything I could to keep you safe. That's why I told you the stories."

Without hesitating, I bursted into Shelley's room, anger fueling my movements. "You are insane! First, you kill my parents, then you blame it on some goblin, and now you are going to run away with my little brother?!" 

Shelley shook her head. "Jenny, stop it. You will wake them." 

"Stop it? You want me to stop it? How about you stop lying to us, and yourself! You murdered my parents!"

"It wasn't me! You must listen! When they possess you, those things, you are no longer in control. I did not kill your parents! They did!"

I let out a scream that shook the entire house. "Well, I wish they would have killed you!!" 

Shelley sobbed, then dropped to the floor, shaking her head all the way down. "They don't work that way, I told you they don't work that way..." 

I grabbed Jack's wrist and pulled him to me. Shelley let out a shriek. 

"You've awaken them! You've angered them! They will come for this household! They will come for you!" Shelley's fingers were shaking too much to determine who she was pointing at, but she was gone before I could even ask. She flew out of the house and out onto the street in no time, her skirt trailing in the mounds of snow. 

I take a shaky breath. "Are you okay?"

Jack nodded, but said nothing. 

"How about you rest? Tomorrow, we can go to the police station and tell them what we know. Hopefully, they can catch Auntie Shelley before she hurts anyone else. 

Jack was silent as I led him back upstairs, tucked him into bed, and kissed his cheek. 

"Goodnight, Jack. Don't let her scare you." 

But he did not seem to hear me. His eyes were closed as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

~ ~ ~ 

I woke up at midnight to the sound of a leaf falling. No, not a leaf, a flower. The vase of flowers that always sat next to my bedside table had wilted. What a shame. I loved the way they smelled. 

When I rubbed my eyes, I noticed my fingertips were stained and dripping with something. 

Something red. 

A nightmare! I told myself. It must be! 

I got out of my bed and quickly ran to Jack's room. All of this talk of Christmas Goblins, I thought, it's made my brain scattered. 

But my head was screwed on perfectly fine. Once I reached Jack's room, my nightmare came to life. 

Jack. Lifeless. On his bed. Blood oozing around him like a thick cranberry sauce. 

Above him, etched in red on the wall, was a sentence. 

Tell our story. 

And I knew. I knew then what had happened. 

My breath caught in my chest. I could not breathe. Not a creature was stirring. Not even me. 

I rushed to the bathroom and practically threw myself into the tub. 

I scrubbed and cried and rinsed and lathered and screamed until the water was pink. Until my fingers were wrinkled-up prunes.