A soft and gentle snow was falling on Bayville.
The tree in the center of town was strung with tiny white lights that were glowing softly against the dark backdrop of the night.
Couples were walking hand in hand while last minute shoppers with their arms full of packages hustled from store to store but still managed to take the time to smile at strangers and exchange kind words with friends.
Officer Michael Stanton slipped out of his nice warm patrol car in to the cold night air. His breath hung for a long moment in the air before slowly dissipating and his cheeks stung until the numbing cold set in as he quickly crossed the parking lot in to the little all night coffee shop.
"Hey Mike." The man behind the counter smiled.
"Burrr!" Mike stood for a moment and shivered visibly, letting the heat of the small shop sink in. It was a festively decorated little place. Christmas carols were playing softly in the back room – just loud enough to listen to in the quiet little storefront.
"I heard that." The friendly man replied. "We just got in a new blend. Hawaiian Hazelnut. Care to give it a try?"
Mike thought for a moment. "Sure." He said finally. "Sounds good Dave. Kind of exotic."
His friend smiled and turned over a cup from behind the counter. "You think you're cold?" The man laughed. "Take a look across the street at Wimples Department Store."
Mike turned and looked. A young blonde boy was standing in the alcove of the store trying to stay out of the wind.
The coffee slowly filled the cup and the aroma turned Mike away from the window. "How long has he been there?" Mike asked.
"Over an hour now. Must be waiting on someone." Dave shrugged and set the cup down in front of Mike's favorite stool. "And freezing his bits off if you know what I mean. He's wearing a windbreaker for cripes sake."
Mike looked back and sure enough Dave was right. The boy had a scarf on too, but no gloves and only the lightest of jackets and a threadbare pair of jeans.
"He lights a cigarette every few minutes to try and keep warm." Dave commented. "I've been hoping he isn't homeless."
Mike took a deep breath and shivered. "Aww… Dave…" He looked back over his shoulder and sighed at the idea. "I'll check if he's still there when I leave. I can take him down to Father Flannagan if I have to. Get him fed and out of the cold…"
As he cast his glance back he saw that the boy had lit another cigarette and was shuffling in place for the warmth.
Dave smiled. "I'll pour you a cup to take over to him when you go." He shrugged. "It's just going to waste anyway. None of your fellow officers want to get out of their cars to come in tonight. It's too cold."
Mike nodded. "It is at that." He lifted his coffee to his lips. It was heavenly. He took another sip and then a deep inhale of warm steam off the cup. "Can I get a cinnamon donut to go with this?"
The song changed in the background. 'Holly, Jolly Christmas' came on.
"Sure." Dave smiled.
Another squad car pulled up and two more officers rushed in out of the cold.
The boy took several rapid puffs off his cigarette and finished it as quickly as possible while crossing the street.
"Ah." Dave gave a head nod towards the boy in the street. "He must have gotten tired of waiting." He flipped over another cup and began to fill it, intending to just give it to the boy when he arrived.
But the boy didn't come in.
He stood outside the large glass door… and knocked.
"What the…?" All three officers turned and looked toward the boy standing out in the cold.
"Did you know…" The boy spoke loudly so as to be heard through the door "That 'democracy' is short for demonic aristocracy?" He then broke in to a wide, self satisfied grin, grabbed the door by it's handles, braced his foot against the bottom and began beating his head against the glass as hard as he could.
The first hit cracked the glass and everyone inside the store jumped. "The President drinks blood in black magic rituals!"
The second hit left a bloody smear and made the glass crunch under the force. "Time travelers run the banking community!"
"Jees…" Mike jumped up and began to rush towards the door.
The third hit shattered the safety glass in to a million tiny shards and sent blood spraying down the boy's face as he burst out laughing. "Death comes dressed like a ghost-dog, Baby!" But the glass still didn't give way.
The other two cops rushed for the door but they all bottlenecked when they got there. The boy was holding the door closed as he howled the words: "Will someone please stop those train whistles!!"
They pushed in unison as the boy slammed his face over and over in to the glass, spraying blood, laughter and madness at them until he fell unconscious and they could force the door open.
His body slid away from the door leaving a bloody trail in the soft, white snow.
Mike grabbed his radio and called for a paramedic.
The two other officers grabbed the boy under his arms and dragged him inside. Then they hand cuffed him behind his back in case he woke back up.
"Dear God in Heaven." Dave was shaking from the spectacle. "W-What's … What's wrong with him?"
Mike looked back. "I don't know." He said slowly. "But the hospital's got a nice warm bed… I'm sure."
"One with thick leather straps I hope." One of the other officers added cautiously, eyeing the youth.
Dave took several deep breaths and then looked back at the door. "I better get some plywood out of the back… And call a repairman in the morning." He looked back down at the boy. "God… I hope he's okay."
The boy lay motionless and limp… listening intently, and pretending to be unconscious…
And for a long moment there was only one sound to be heard.
"… Oh by golly have a holly, jolly Christmas, this year!"