The Xmas Files

Disclaimer -- Please note that the creator of this site has a Christian significant other and we both love the X-Files tv show. Don't expect to find all PCX stuff here. :)
  The XMas-Files

  11:51 P.M., DECEMBER 24TH
 
  We're too late! It's already been here.
 
  Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing.
 
  Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated,
  mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with boughs of
  holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care.
 
  You really think someone's been here?
 
  Someone, or something.
 
  Mulder, over here--it's a fruitcake.
 
  Don't touch it!  Those things can be lethal.
 
  It's O.K.  There's a note attached: "Gonna find out who's naughty
  and nice."
 
  It's judging them, Scully.  It's making a list.
 
  Who?  What are you talking about?
 
  Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could
  travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants.
  Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to 
  descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers
  with jagged chunks of antracite.
 
  But that's legend, Mulder--a story told by parents to frighten
  children.  Surely you don't believe it?
 
  Something was here tonight, Scully.  Check out the bite marks on
  this gingerbread man.  Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was
  massive--and in a hurry.
 
  It left crumbs everywhere.  And look, Mulder, this milk glass has
  been completely drained.
 
  It gorged itself, Scully.  It fed without remorse.
 
  But why would they leave it milk and cookies?
 
  Appeasement.  Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.
 
  But if this thing does exist, how did it get in?  The doors and
  windows were locked.  There's no sign of forced entry.
 
  Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.
 
  Wait a minute, Mulder.  If you're saying some huge creature landed
  on the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy.  The flue is
  barely six inches wide.  Nothing could get down there.
 
  But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at once?
 
  You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?
 
  Exactly.  Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a child
  my home was visited.  I saw the creature.  It had long white shanks
  of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head.  Its bloated torso was
  red and white.  I'll never foget the horror.  I turned away, and when I
  looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father.
 
  Impossible.
 
  I know what I saw.  And that night it read my mind.  It brought me a
  Mr. Potato Head, Scully.  It knew that I wanted a Mr. Potato Head!
 
  I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of
  physics.  You want me to believe in some supernatural being who
  soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys.
  Listen to what you're saying.  Do you understand the
  repercussions? If this gets out, they'll close the X-files.
 
  Scully, listen to me: It know when you're sleeping.  It knows when
  you're awake.
 
  But we have no proof.
 
  Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected bogeys
  in the airspace over twenty-seven states.  The White House ordered
  a Condition Red.
 
  But that was a meteor shower.
 
  Officially.  Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer
  vanished from the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C.  Nobody--not
  even the zookeeper--was told about it.  The government doesn't
  want people to know about Project Kringle.  They fear that if
  this thing is proved to exist the public will stop spending half
  its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy.  Retail markets
  will collapse.  Scully, they cannot let the world believe this
  creature lives.  There's too much at stake.  They'll do whatever
  it takes to insure another silent night.
 
  Mulder, I--
 
  Sh-h-h.  Do you hear what I hear?
 
  On the roof.  It sounds like...a clatter.

  The truth is up there.  Let's see what's the matter.
 
  ###
 
  IF YOU FORWARD THIS, PLEASE BE SURE TO CREDIT THE AUTHORS FRANK CAMMUSO 
  AND HART SEELY. 

  by Frank Cammuso and Hart Seely
  57 ELM STREET
  BETHLEHEM, PA.

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