T'was The Scariest Night Before Christmas

I yawn. Even though it was only eleven at night, I was exhausted. I stare out at the porch and see the white flakes of snow fall rapidly, gathering up on our already snow-covered porch.

Shane comes up next to me. "Snow," he says, looking out the window with me.

I turn to him. "Yeah. Guess we're going to have a white Christmas this year, eh?"

He nods.

We turn around when we hear a crash, only to see Jason on the floor, laughing. "I tripped again," he says, still laughing.

Silly boy… Always tripping and hurting himself.

Jason comes over to us. "Hey guys, I'm gonna go shovel the porch."

"Congrats," I say with all the sarcasm in the world.

"I know! I was so honoured when Dad told me I had to!" he replies with all the seriousness in the world.

Shane and I exchange glances, and Jason heads off outside with a red shovel.

I yawn.

"Someone's tired," Shane murmurs with a hint of amusement in his voice.

I nod. "Christmas present shopping wears me out."

Shane laughs. "Well it's a good thing that Santa does most of it."

I stare at him like he's crazy, which he is. "I'm gonna go put the presents under the tree now," I say and head upstairs to the loft. All of the presents from "Santa" are there, and I bring them down.

My brother jumps up and down. "Presents! Where are mine? Who are they from?" He leaps over to the tree and looks for his presents. "Jason… Dad… Nate… Shane!" He reads the tag. "For Shane, from… Santa? What?" He looks up at me. "Nate, why did Santa deliver the presents early?"

I stutter a bit. "Because it's Christmas in Australia, duh! But, uh, you have to wait until tomorrow to open the presents."

"Oh," he replies and puts the present back under the tree.

I look over at the clock. Eleven thirty. And I'm so tired. "I'm off to bed," I say.

Shane looks sad. "I thought we were gonna stay up all night and at midnight scream, 'Happy New Years!'"

"You have the wrong day. Wait five days, okay?" I tell him, heading off to our room.

"Oh. Then, in that case, I'm going to sleep too," he says and follows me into our room. Shane heads up to the top bunk and then throws his polar bear comforter on me. He laughs.

I take the blanket off my head and throw it back up at him. Yes, he has a polar bear comforter. I have a dark blue one. Plain, because I'm not a dork.

I go underneath the covers and get settled.

Right before I'm asleep, Shane makes a weird noise with his tongue and starts laughing.

I try to ignore him, but he keeps making the same noise and keeps laughing. His laughter shakes the bed and it's hitting the wall and squeaking. I sigh and keep my eyes closed.

He keeps laughing.

I pull the comforter off of me and put my feet up on his mattress, popping it up. He screams, not expecting it. "Why'd you do that?" he asks.

"Shut up!" I yell at him and pull the comforter of me again.

Five minutes of silence leads to five minutes of laughter. Shane keeps on laughing.

"Why won't you let me have some peace and quiet?" I ask, really ticked off.

"Because it's so-o-o funny!" he coos.

"No it isn't!"

"You wouldn't know funny if it came up and bit you!"

"I know funny, and weird tongue noises are not funny!"

He giggles. Then does the noise again. The noise is that weird thing that the stupid unicorns do in Charlie The Unicorn two.

"That's it," I say and hop out of bed. I climb up the ladder and go up to the top bunk.

Shane gasps. "No! Don't hurt me!"

I go right up to his face. "Stop laughing and let me sleep!"

He giggles.

"I'm being serious! I'm tired, Shane!"

"But come on, Nate! It's funny!" He does the noise again to prove a point.

I shake my head. "No, Shane, it isn't. I don't know why you keep obsessing ov-"

I get stopped in mid sentence when there is a loud bang on our window. Shane and I both scream, and Shane wraps his arms around my body. "Hold me!" he exclaims.

"What was that?" I ask.

"I don't know!"

There is another loud bang.

Shane and I gasp.

"Oh my gosh, who's there?" Shane asks to no one in particular.

Whoever it is keeps on knocking.

Shane turns to me. "What if it's a creepy child molester that's out to get us? Nate, I'm scared! Mum and Dad aren't home, remember? They're at Bob and Connie's… Nate, what if it's a serial killer that's out to get us?"

Now I'm getting freaked out. Our parents aren't home and our doors aren't locked.

Shane pushes me a bit. "Go look out the window and see if it's the killer!"

I hesitantly go down the ladder, only to satisfy my own curiosity, and pull back the curtains, only to see a figure standing there. I scream and shut the curtains, going down to the floor.

"Who was there?" Shane asks.

I shake my head. "I don't know."

My brother's eyes widen. "Nate, have you ever gotten that feeling that you're going to die?" he asks.

I nod. "All the time."

Shane goes down the ladder. "We need to protect ourselves. Natey, get your gun."

I raise my eyebrows. "Gun? I don't have a gun."

"Then go get the axe."

"What? We don't have an axe!"

"Yes we do. It's upstairs under Mum and Dad's bed."

"What?" I ask. Shane nods and leads me upstairs. While going upstairs, I look out the windows for the killer.

Shane kneels down next to the bed, and sure enough, there's an axe. He pulls it out and hands it to me. "Protect yourself, little bro."

I nod and take the axe.

"I'll go get the ice pick," he says and we head downstairs.

"Since when do we have an ice pick?"

"Since always," Shane says and turns on the light to the basement. He goes over to a door and opens it. In that door, there is a little room with ice picks, axes, guns, and ropes lining the wall. He grabs a blue ice pick.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold the show. Since when do we have all of these things?" I ask, looking at all of the weapons.

He shrugs. "Who knows." He closes the door to the little closet and then we both turn around when we hear the door to the garage open.

We hear it creak open, slowly.

"To the garage!" Shane exclaims, racing off.

"No! That's where the killer is!"

He stops running and faces me. "Well, that's why we're going there. So we can kill the killer."

I stare at him for a bit. "That's the craziest thing I've ever heard."
"Well do want the killer in our house?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"Then lets go kill the killer."

"Wouldn't that make us killers?"

"No."

"You make no sense what-so-ever."

As we're walking, Shane stops. "I have to pee. This could be problematic." He races off to the bathroom, leaving me standing there with an axe and a killer in the house.

I hear a door creak open and see a dark figure slip into the basement. I raise my axe slightly. "W-w-who's there?" I ask, my voice trembling.

When I see the killer himself walk up to me, I scream and run away. I look back and it's just Jason standing there.

"Way to lock me out of the house, you dufus!" Jason yells at me, walking near me. "What's with the axe, and why do you look so frightened?"

I'm still trembling. "I thought you were the killer."

Jason's jaw drops. "There's a killer? Where?" He jumps behind me and hides.

I shake my head. "I don't know. But he's out there."

"What are we gonna do?" Jason whispers.

"I don't know."

Just then, I see a shadow of a person. I let out a quiet, staccato gasp and hold my breath. I hold on to Jason and we both look the direction where the shadow came from. "Jason," I whisper, "go get the gun."

Jason nods and goes over to the closet, grabbing the gun.

There are footsteps and then the basement door opens. Jason and I both scream and the person standing there does too. I close my eyes and start swinging the axe.

"What the hell!"

I open my eyes and see my brother standing there with his hands up in the air and Jason is still pointing the gun at him.

I point an accusing finger at Shane. "You're the killer!"

"No I'm not!" he defends.

"Yes you are!"

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are!"

"Yes I am!"

"No you're not… hey, wait a minute. That wasn't fair; you tricked me!"

Jason puts the gun down and Shane puts his hands down.

Shane walks over to us. "So none of us are the killer," he says. "Then who is?"

I shrug. "Who was that person knocking on our window?"

"Oh, that was me," Jason confesses.

We both look over at him.

He shrugs defensively. "What? You locked me out."

Right before we could call it quits for the night, we hear the garage door open.

"It's the real killer!" Jason screeches and picks up the gun. He aims it at the door, and I grab the axe.

The garage door opens and our parents are standing there. When they see our weapons, they scream.

"Boys! What are you doing?" Mum asks.

We set down our weapons.

"We thought you were the killer!" I tell our parents.

"What killer?" Mum asks.

Shane does a weird hand motion that I can't really explain. "There's a killer knocking on our window from outside!"

Dad rolls his eyes. "No, there isn't. Go to bed, you three."

"Yes Dad," we all chime and put the weapons back in the closet.

We all head upstairs, and Jason, Shane, and I go into our room. We all hop in bed.

"Well I'm glad that there really was no killer," Shane says, getting in his bunk.

"Me too," I reply pulling the covers over my body.

"Good night guys," Jason says.

Right before I'm asleep, there is knocking on the window. "Ha ha, very funny, Jason," I say sarcastically.

"It wasn't me," Jason replies.

My eyes shoot open and I look over at the window.

Let's just say, when I hopped back in bed, it was the most peaceful sleep in the world, knowing the killer was no long out to get us.