A noise startled me awake. I lay in my bed, holding my breath, ears straining. Chink chink, a metallic clanging. Clank, clank, the sound of metal scraping across the corrugated steel roof. On any other night, the sounds would have terrified me. But tonight, I suddenly became a believer. Maybe he WAS real? Could it be? Was Santa really here? On my roof?

I listened carefully, excitement building in my chest. If I snuck down quickly to the living room, and hid before he arrived, I could finally see what he really looked like!

I threw back the covers and swung my legs out of bed. Quietly, I stood up, carefully making my way to the door, picking my way through the minefield of clothes and shoes strewn across the floor.

I tiptoed down the hallway, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboards, and paused when I reached the doorway to the living room. I listened carefully for any sounds that would indicate Santa was already here. Nothing.

I quickly crept to the corner where Mum’s prized Monstera stood, behind Dad’s armchair. Hidden amongst its leafy foliage, I waited.

Scuffling and scraping noises soon sounded from the chimney. I crouched even lower, straining my eyes in the darkness.

The sounds became closer and louder and then suddenly, a figure was emerging from the fireplace.

He stood upright, groaning as he did so. I guess Santa feels age, just as we do. Although it was dark, he didn’t look like the Santa I’d expected. His profile was tall and skinny, not the jolly, fat old man the storybooks show.

There was an odd smell too, wafting towards me. A kind of musty, mouldy smell, like our garage after the rainy season.

As he moved towards our Christmas tree, I noticed he seemed to be limping, and something dragged along the floor as he moved. Strange.

A beam of moonlight, emerging from behind the clouds, streamed through the window, lighting up the odd figure.

I looked closely at his ragged attire. Dirty and ripped, his suit was more maroon than red. I could see now why he was limping; chains were shackled to his ankles, preventing smooth movement. This was Santa? He looked more like an escaped prisoner.

He pulled a sack, surprisingly empty-looking, from over his shoulder. He bent low, hunching down towards the gifts already laid out. Reaching out, he picked up two of the boxes, and threw them into his sack! He quickly picked up another large box and tossed it in! What?! He was stealing our presents! I watched in shock as Santa quickly threw the remaining presents into his sack.

In my shock, I must have inadvertently made a sound, for he turned quickly, staring at my hiding spot. With the moonlight highlighting his features, I gasped for real this time.

His face was hideous, gaunt and grey, with a thin, straggly beard drifting down his chest. His eyeballs bulged from their sockets and his bald grey head highlighted his large, pointed ears. I stared in horror.

“Santa?” I croaked?

He took a step towards me. “Ha! You think I’m Santa?” He scoffed. “Do I look like some happy and free old fat man, giving joy to children? No, I’m not Santa, you stupid child. I am Atnas, prisoner of Samtsirhc. Doomed for eternity to roam the universe, visiting this godforsaken worlds once a year to collect all the treasure and booty for my master.”

I was rooted in place, frozen with terror and disbelief. What on earth was happening? An anti-Santa??

The creature called Atnas was suddenly almost upon me. “Oh, and all this disgusting cookies and milk everyone puts out?” His tongue darted across his lips as his putrid breath wafted across my face. “Absolute rubbish. Don’t they know I’m a carnivore?”

I froze. He cackled, and leapt.