Page 8 of Her Christmas Monsters

“Don’t worry about it Clara.” He smiles. “I’ll keep doing what I can, you just focus on expanding those ideas we came up with last night and knocking that display out of the park.”

“Thank you,” I say again, my chest warming at his sweet words and kind gestures. Seriously, what did I ever do to deserve someone as amazing as Ethan in my life? I turn to my desk with a renewed sense of determination, ready to take on whatever today throws at me.

I was in fact not ready for the rollercoaster today turned out to be. Especially since as soon as I logged in on my computer I was met by a lovely email from the CEO himself.

Ms Wright,

I hope you remember that tomorrow is your deadline. I’ll be waiting for your presentation in the morning. If you don’t have anything worthwhile to show me, please bring a list of your colleagues who may be better suited for the position.

Regards,

Fynn

I sat there shocked for a moment that this man actually has the audacity to ask for names. Screw him. I honestly don’t even care about the promotion anymore. I care about proving this asshole wrong, coming up with an amazing display, and finding a better opportunity once I add it to my portfolio.

I lean over the legal pad, scouring the words I’d written down last night, searching my brain for any spark of creativity one might ignite. But nothing comes. Trees, ornaments, lights.

Lights. My mind goes back to the dream I had last night of the bright lights illuminating the massive tree and the shadowed figure next to it. Next to light we have the words that relate to it and next to light is the word dark. I’d thought it was silly to write it down then, but maybe ...

I pull up the web browser on my computer and type into the search engine ‘Christmas dark’ and a few suggestions pop up. I click on the first one; ‘Christmas dark history.’ A few different links pop up, and I hover my mouse over an article ‘The dark history of Christmas you never knew existed.’

“Are you ready to go, Clara?” Ethan asks, causing me to nearly jump out of my seat.

I suck in a startled breath and clutch my chest, my heart thundering away under my palm.

“Sorry.” Ethan winks and leans against the cubicle. “Do you want to brainstorm again?”

“I think I have an idea,” I say slowly and glance back at the computer screen. My stomach twists with guilt at not accepting Ethan’s invitation, but I have research to do.

Let’s just hope this idea isn’t too out of the ordinary.

Chapter Five

Ihurriedlyunlockthefront door of my apartment and rush inside, already dropping my bag and coat. I can’t lose this spark of inspiration.

Picking up my work bag again, I head straight towards my desk and drop it on the hard surface. My apartment is cozy, but I made sure to have a little alcove with my desk and home computer in the small living room. I pull out the takeout I picked up on the way and snack on a few fries as the computer loads. My foot taps against the wood floor anxiously and I type in my password almost wishing I’d stayed at work to finish my research now. But who knows how long this is going to take, and there’s no way I’m going to be in an office by myself in the city.

I pull out my drawing tablet and open a new project as the icons on my desktop pop up. Clicking on the web browser, I wait for it to load, dancing in my seat as though that might make the computer go faster. My fingers are poised over the keys as soon as it loads, and I type in the same search I did at the office. The article is the top result and I click it, hoping there’ll be something I can use here, otherwise I’m seriously screwed.

The article explains how Christmas actually comes from a pagan holiday and the traditions that are still practiced today are customs from then. I scroll through some of the examples and pause when I get to an image of a dark-furred creature with curved horns protruding from his head. His long red forked tongue lolls on the front of his mouth as he approaches a child on hooves and a figure in white robes.

Krampus. The text explains he was the companion of Saint Nicholas, or Santa Claus. Krampus would dole out punishments to children who misbehaved while Santa would give the other children gifts. I search more about Krampus, and there seem to be movies made about him as well as festivals where people dress as him and chase others through the street.

I go back to the picture of Krampus and pull up the mock-up for the original ice castle, ready to put my tablet pen to work as ideas flash through my mind.

A whistling wind sweeps around me, sending a shiver up my spine. I peel my eyes open and roll my shoulders in an attempt to work out the stiffness as I sit up in my office chair.

I fell asleep at my desk? But this doesn’t look like my desk. Well it does, but it’s ... different—it’s like the entire apartment has been shrouded in darkness. The monitor is still on, yet the light doesn’t glow as brightly as it should. The edges of the screen waver slightly, like they’ve been warped somehow. Even my hands look like they’re covered in a thick, dark fog that refuses to dissipate.

“Clara,” a masculine voice whispers, the sound gentle yet all-consuming, carried on that wind that still swirls around me. It’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It’s strange yet familiar, and although I’ve never heard it before, I know every nuanced note intrinsically.

“Hello?” I ask hesitantly, and cautiously stand. I squint into the fog but no one else is here.

“Clara.” A masculine voice sighs in relief, the wind wrapping tighter around me like a comforting embrace. It’s warm, yet it still sends tingles shooting up my spine.

The invisible force surrounding me eases away slowly as wisps of smoke appear in front of me. The same smoke I saw in my dream yesterday.

“Who are you?” I whisper, somehow knowing these shadows are him. The figure I saw last night just before my alarm yanked me from my dream, the face that was so close to forming before my eyes.

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