Short Story: The Forgotten List
Christmas had always been a magical time for Emily Carter, a season of warmth, wonder, and whispered wishes. But as the snow-draped town of Ashwick settled into the hush of Christmas Eve, an uneasy feeling crept over her. The usual excitement bubbling in her chest was dulled by a nagging thought—what if Santa forgot her this year?
What if, despite all her careful preparations, she was left behind?
The Forgotten List
It was Christmas Eve in the quiet town of Ashwick, and young Emily Carter lay awake in her bed, listening to the wind whistle through the trees outside. She had always loved Christmas—the twinkling lights, the scent of pine, the anticipation of waking up to presents under the tree. But this year, something felt… off.
She had written her letter to Santa weeks ago, carefully listing her wishes, but as Christmas Eve approached, she had an unsettling thought: what if Santa had forgotten her? She hadn’t been particularly naughty, but what if her name had slipped off the list? What if she was simply… forgotten?
Determined to find out, Emily crept downstairs and settled herself behind the armchair in the living room, peeking at the Christmas tree through the shadows. The house was silent except for the occasional crackle from the dying embers in the fireplace.
Then, just past midnight, she heard it.
A low, scraping noise came from the chimney. Not the light jingle of bells or the cheerful thud of boots—no, this was different. It was slow, deliberate, as if something was clawing its way down brick by brick.
Emily held her breath as a figure emerged. It wore the familiar red suit, but its limbs were impossibly long, its fingers spindly and blackened as if burnt. The air turned sharp and cold. A strange, wheezing breath echoed through the room.
Santa had arrived.
But something was wrong.
The creature turned its head towards the Christmas tree, its eyes gleaming like wet coal. It reached into its sack—not for presents, but for something else entirely. A long, curling parchment unfurled from its grip, the names inked in dark red.
Emily’s heart pounded as the thing ran its long finger down the list, pausing in the middle. Then, it turned towards her hiding place.
“You,” it rasped, its voice brittle and dry. “You were… forgotten.”
Emily whimpered, pressing herself against the chair. The thing took a slow step forward, its shadow stretching across the floor.
“I’m here to correct mistakes,” it murmured, its mouth stretching into a grin that split its face like cracked porcelain. “No child is ever left off the list.”
It reached for her.
Emily squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the worst.
Then—a chime. A bright, cheerful ding echoed through the room. The creature froze. The grandfather clock struck three, the witching hour.
With an ear-splitting hiss, the thing recoiled, its long fingers curling in agony. Its body convulsed as if the very toll of the bell repelled it. The parchment in its grasp burned away into ash.
And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the creature scrambled back up the chimney, vanishing into the night.
Emily sat frozen, her heart hammering in her chest. When she finally found the courage to move, she stumbled toward the fireplace. Lying there, amidst the ash and soot, was a single box wrapped in silver paper. A tag dangled from it, “For Emily. I never forget.”
Her hands trembled as she reached for it, unsure whether she should open it or throw it away. But curiosity won. With shaky fingers, she tore the silver paper and lifted the lid.
Inside was a small, aged doll—handcrafted, its painted eyes eerily lifelike. Its porcelain face bore an uncanny resemblance to Emily herself. Stitched into its tiny dress, in thread as red as blood, was a name, “Emily Carter.”
She dropped the box with a gasp, the doll’s empty stare meeting hers. A chill ran through her as a whisper echoed through the room—soft, distant, but unmistakable.
“No child is ever left off the list.”
Emily would never, ever stay up late on Christmas Eve again.
© Colin Lawson 2021
© Colin Lawson Books