by Dawn DeBraal

The blackened finger of evil rolled down the elf’s face, leaving a trail of blood behind it.

“Where’s the fat man?”

“My loyalty is to Kris Kringle.”

“You stupid imp, I am Kris Kringle.”

“Then you should know where you work!” The demon recoiled at such bravery. The spirit disposed of the elven trash. If Santa’s helpers were close, so was the mode of transportation Kris needed.

“Come.” He called to the hellhounds with antlers tied to their heads. Soon, they would touch every house on Christmas Eve with the help of Santa’s stolen sleigh. All Hell would break loose.

Dawn DeBraal

Dawn DeBraal lives in rural Wisconsin with her husband Red, two little dogs, and a cat. She has discovered that her love of telling a good story can be written.  She has published over 200 stories in many online magazines and anthologies. Falling Star Magazine’s 2019 Pushcart Nominee.