The Anti-Santa

“Anti-Santa!” scoffed Mr. Cushing “Dear me. Can we even admit that regular Santa isn’t a real thing.”

Mrs McCulikn merely stirred the pot on the hob, humming to herself as she did around 5:45 when Mr. Harding would sneak into the pantry and shove his hands into whatever jar he fancied, Mrs. Harding would have words with the staff when he did so but if the pantry was locked Mr. Harding would have words instead. At times such as this, it paid to be deaf.

“According to little Christopher” explained Mrs Marks “the anti-Santa is for bad girls and boys. How does it go again? Good girls and boys leave offerings to Santa Claus.”

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One Scout Went to Mow

It’s Joe’s turn to tell a story by the campfire.

“One night, a boy went missing on Scout Camp,” he whispers. I shiver, despite the heat, and huddle in closer. I’m not scared, it’s just that it’s hard to hear him when he’s whispering like that. Behind him, the shadowy outline of tree branches could be horns growing out of his head.

“Every year, on the anniversary of his disappearance, another boy goes missing. But right before he does, he sees the missing boys. No-one else can see them…”

The fire spits and we all jump, then we’re laughing uncontrollably. This is way more fun than singing boring camping songs.

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