A dark shed: arena of shadows.
A heavyset man carefully wraps a severed leg, placing it alongside other limbs. He adds a bright bow, before wiping bloody hands in matted beard. With dripping shovel, he approaches the torso.
A female voice: “Santa. Tea’s ready.”
“Almost done!” booms his jolly voice.
The neatly-written note makes him smile.
“Dear Santa,
Daddy left Mummy! I usually want lots of parcels, but all I want this Christmas is Daddy back.
Love,
Jenny.”
Best of both worlds, muses the red-robed figure, as the shovel whispers down on an exposed neck, to grant a child’s wish.
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Flameout by C.L. Sidell"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="First Kiss, Second Kiss by Jeff Currier"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Up, Up and Stay by Jacob Conflitti"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Butterfly Defect by Andreas Flögel"
class="motion-reduce"
loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>