I don't know why Crap Mariner's 100 Word Story challenge inspires me to create such bizarre works. Maybe it's time for some virtual psychotherapy.
Wait. Don't roll up your window. Listen to me. There's not much time. It's Christmas Eve. Santa Claus is coming to town.
I'm not crazy. That's what they want you to believe. That's why they've locked me away for all these years. I've seen the truth. Santa Claus is a fucking nightmare.
Forty years ago I crept down the stairs. Milk and cookies. Santa knelt by our tree. He inhaled sharply catching my scent, then looked up to capture my eyes in his predator's gaze. "So you want to feed Santa," he asked?
He killed them all. It wasn't me.