Footsteps on the staircase woke Timmy. Light flickered under his bedroom door and the 'clonk' of something heavy that bumped against each step grew louder.
Wide-eyed, Timmy sat up in bed, clutched his teddy bear tight, and whimpered. By the dim glow of his snowman lamp he could see the door handle turn and the door swing wide. An arm holding a lantern extended into the room.
Icicles dripped from Santa's nose. His beard and bushy eyebrows glinted in the lantern light.
Timmy saw the meat cleaver tucked into the broad belt. Rolled up sleeves revealed matted hairy arms and Santa's fist held a big red sack which bulged with the dismembered bodies of all of the naughty children.
Well, nearly all of them.
Bill West always wanted to be a mortuary technician but when he failed the interview he took a job in IT instead. He's met a lot of odd people working in IT.Bill lives in a remote part of rural Shropshire, UK. He likes to explore ancient ruins, which is where he found his wife. He has two sons who tell him they are a) a Rock Star and b) an Avant-garde Film Maker. He suspects they may be either confused or exagerating as he has never heard of them.Over the past five years Bill's Flash Fictions have been published in a wide variety of print and on-line e-zines and been included in a number of anthologies. See further details of his work at his website, http://writewords.org.uk/bill_west/