Santa’s Little Helper
Published on… 31 October 2014
Published as… Horror
H. D. Gordon’s Guest Post
I’ve spent all my life living in really old, really big houses. The kind of houses with dank, cement-walled basements and rusty hinges. The kind of houses a child could spend hours playing and hiding in, discovering strange new things in dark corners and crevices that gave pause upon approach.
The rooms were deep, but not tall. The sunlight that filtered through the windows in contained rectangles always seemed somehow dustier, floating with tiny specks that made you hold your breath, so as not to breathe them in, as you passed through.
If you’ve ever lived in one of these places, you know that the very walls, the ceiling and the floorboards are constantly singing out to their occupants; groaning and creaking and “settling”–as my mother liked to call it– all around you. To me, the sounds always reminded me of a complaining stomach, and I couldn’t help but feel as though I was the undigested meal inside it.
Yes, I had an imagination. A tendency to envision impossible possibilities. And boy, was it a source of pain for me when I was younger.
I remember one night in particular. I was an embarrassing thirteen years of age, and just then trying my darnedest to sleep in my own room, with the lights off. (I spent a long time sleeping in my mother’s or sister’s room, secretly hoping that when the monsters showed up–because I was certain they would show up–they would eat the other person first, leaving me with a chance to escape.)
I was lying there, telling myself there was nothing to be afraid of, when I heard it. The tiniest of noises, the slightest of “settlings”, and my body went board-stiff in the bed.
It was Chucky! That evil, hideous doll from Child’s Play! I was certain! And there! There! Did I hear correctly?! Dear LORD, please tell that wasn’t the pitter-pattering of his little plastic shoes crossing my bedroom floor, huge knife in hand!
Dear Reader, you may be laughing now, but I was frozen with terror. I tried to scream. For the love of GOD, I tried with all my will to scream my head off, but I was so scared that I’d lost control of my vocals!
That was the only time in my life–save for the occasional nightmare– when I literally had my voice snatched from me by fear. I can tell you, it was not a pleasant feeling.
What happened, you wonder? Well, after what seemed like an eternally long moment of sweat-chilling terror, I finally regained control over my body, and bolted out of the black room, barking my shin on the dresser and somehow escaping with my life.
By the time I worked my courage up to return to the room–standing with my body out in the hallway and searching the inside wall blindly for the light switch–Chucky had hidden from sight.
The point I hope I’m making is, I’m no stranger to terror. Specifically, the kind of terror only an over-imaginative child can feel. And if you were like me, and would like me to take you back there, back to that time when you used to lie staring into the shadows, shivering under the covers, just take my hand, and I’ll lead you there.
I’ve got a little buddy named Santa’s Little Helper, and he’s just dying to meet you.
About the Book
He shows up in a white box, with a bright red book under his arm… He wears a jolly grin and hat, a suit with gold bells and green yarn… He watches you for Santa, or so his red book claims… But though his grin is jolly, he’s not here for fun and games…
The children have been chosen, such precious little souls they are… And may the Gods be with them, if they wish to make it very far… For Santa’s Little Helper does not say, but knows important things… He knows when you’ve been bad or good, and what monsters stalk your dreams… He knows when you are sleeping, he knows when you’re awake…He’s picking out his presents…He’s got some souls to take.
Buy the Book at Amazon
About the Author
H. D. Gordon is the bestselling author of THE ALEXA MONTGOMERY SAGA, THE JOE KNOWE SERIES, and THE SURAH STORMSONG NOVELS. She is a lifelong reader and writer, a true lover of words. When she is not reading and writing, she is busy raising her two daughters and keeping the world’s zombie population under control.