The Thirteenth Guest - by Onlyreal

The snow didn’t fall in Oakhaven; it descended like a shroud. By noon on Christmas Eve, the power lines had snapped under the weight of ice, plunging the Blackwood manor into a primitive, flickering gloom.Elias stood by the frosted window, watching the driveway disappear. He was seventy-four, his skin like parchment, and he felt the cold in his marrow more than most. Behind him, the Great Hall smelled of pine needles and desperation. His family—three generations of them—were gathered around the hearth, their faces orange and distorted by the firelight."It’s just a storm, Grandfather," his granddaughter, Maya, said, though she was clutching her phone as if it could conjure a signal from the frozen air.Elias didn't answer. He was looking at the edge of the woods. There, where the hemlocks bowed low, a shape moved. It wasn't the erratic leap of a deer or the heavy trudge of a bear. It was tall, impossibly thin, and it moved with a rhythmic, clicking gait."The counting," Elias whispered. "Have we counted the seats?"His son, Thomas, let out a weary sigh. "We’re twelve, Dad. Just like every year. You, me, Sarah, the kids... twelve."Elias turned, his eyes wide and milky. "The old law, Thomas. On the deepest night, when the veil is thin, you never set a table for twelve. Because the world demands a balance. If you don't invite the thirteenth, he invites himself."The UninvitedDinner was served by candlelight. The silver clattered against porcelain, a frantic percussion against the howling wind outside. They sat at the long oak table: twelve chairs, twelve souls."To family," Thomas said, raising a glass of dark red wine."To family," the table echoed.But as the echoes died down, a new sound replaced them. Thump. Thump. Thump.It came from the mudroom door. It wasn't a knock; it was the sound of something heavy and wet being swung against the wood. The children froze, forks halfway to their mouths."Probably a branch," Sarah said, her voice trembling. "The wind is catching the oaks."Thump. Thump. CRACK.The sound of splintering wood echoed through the hall. Thomas stood up, grabbing a heavy iron poker from the fireplace. "Stay here," he commanded.He disappeared into the shadows of the hallway. The family sat in a suffocating silence. They heard the heavy drag of the mudroom bolt, the groan of hinges, and then... nothing. No shout. No struggle. Just the sound of the wind whistling through an open door, and then the soft, rhythmic click-clack of something walking on the hardwood.Thomas walked back into the room. He looked pale, his eyes fixed straight ahead. He sat back down in his chair and picked up his knife."Everything's fine," he said. His voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. "I let him in.""Let who in, Tom?" Sarah whispered, reaching for his hand. His skin was ice-cold."The Thirteenth Guest," Thomas replied.Behind him, in the shadows where the candlelight couldn't reach, a thirteenth chair had appeared. It wasn't one of theirs. It was made of twisted, grey wood that looked suspiciously like bone. And sitting in it was a figure draped in a tattered, soot-stained robe.It had no face—only a mask made from the bleached skull of a stag, its antlers scraping the low ceiling.The Feast of ShadowsNobody moved. The creature didn't attack; it simply sat. It reached out a long, grey hand—fingers ending in blackened, needle-like points—and picked up a slice of roast beef from Thomas's plate. It slid the meat under the stag’s jaw.The sound of chewing was wet and visceral."Why aren't we running?" Maya whimpered, her body locked in a paralytic terror."Because we invited him," Elias breathed, tears tracking through his wrinkles. "By gathering in his woods, by burning his trees, by eating while the earth starves. We called, and he answered."The creature turned its hollow sockets toward the youngest, six-year-old Leo. It reached into the folds of its robe and pulled out a small, rectangular object wrapped in dried skin and tied with human hair. It slid the "gift" across the table."Don't touch it, Leo!" Sarah screamed.But Leo was entranced. His small hands reached out, untying the hair. The skin fell away to reveal a mirror. Not glass, but a polished slab of obsidian."Look into it, little one," a voice hissed—not from the creature, but from the very walls of the house.Leo looked. His reflection didn't show a boy. It showed a hollow-eyed corpse, its mouth sewn shut with silver wire. Leo didn't scream. He simply blinked, and his own eyes began to turn the color of the obsidian.The Midnight ExchangeAs the grandfather clock struck midnight, the fire died instantly. The room was plunged into a blue, lunar darkness."The tithe," the creature spoke. The sound was like dry leaves skittering over a gravestone. "One for the winter. One for the wood. One to keep the sun from dying.""Take me," Elias stood up, his legs shaking. "I'm old. I've had my winters."The creature stood. It was nearly seven feet tall, its antlers casting jagged shadows like lightning bolts across the walls. It glided toward Elias, the smell of rot and pine needles filling the old man's lungs.But it didn't take Elias. It passed him, its tattered robe brushing against his legs with the coldness of a glacier. It stopped behind Sarah."No!" Thomas yelled, but as he tried to stand, his shadow—cast by the dying embers—reached up and grabbed him by the throat, pinning him to his chair.The creature placed its needle-fingers on Sarah’s shoulders. She didn't scream; she simply turned to ash. In a heartbeat, her body collapsed into a pile of grey soot and bone fragments, leaving only her wedding ring to clatter onto the floor.The creature inhaled deeply, the soot swirling into the stag’s snout."The debt is paid," it whispered.The Morning AfterWhen the sun rose on Christmas morning, the storm had vanished. The sky was a cruel, brilliant blue. The power hummed back to life, the refrigerator groaning as it kicked into gear.The family sat at the table. Thomas, Elias, Maya, and Leo.The mudroom door was shut and bolted. There was no soot on the floor. There was no obsidian mirror."Where's Mom?" Maya asked, her voice small and hollow.Thomas looked at the empty chair next to him. He looked at the wedding ring sitting on the tablecloth. He picked it up and turned it over in his hand."She went to get more firewood," Thomas said. His voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. He looked at Leo, whose eyes were still a deep, unnatural black. "She’ll be gone a long time."Elias looked out the window. In the snow, leading away from the house and into the deep, dark heart of the hemlocks, were two sets of tracks. One set belonged to a heavy, clicking beast. The other set belonged to a woman, walking barefoot, her strides growing longer and more animalistic with every step until they merged into one.Elias picked up his fork. "Eat your breakfast, children," he said, his voice trembling. "We have to stay strong. There are only three hundred and sixty-four days until he comes back for the next one."Deep in the woods, a stag let out a human scream, and the wind carried the sound of bells—not the silver bells of a sleigh, but the heavy, dull tolling of a funeral knell.

Other insights from Onlyreal_Sochi

Referral Earning

Points-to-Coupons