On Christmas Eve, little Peter lay awake, restless with excitement, imagining the gifts and treats awaiting him by morning. But as the clock struck midnight, a strange chill crept into his room. He sat up, heart pounding, as he heard the sound of chains rattling in the distance, like an ancient warning creeping closer.

Peering out the frosty window, he saw a dark figure, cloaked in ragged red, dragging heavy iron chains. Its face was a twisted version of what Peter thought Santa might look like—its eyes hollow and glowing with an unnatural light, its long fingers curling as if reaching out. This wasn’t the jolly figure he expected. Instead, it seemed like an ancient, tormented being who had come for something…or someone.

The figure creaked open Peter’s bedroom door without touching it. Shadows filled the room as it slithered closer, each step echoing with the clinking of rusted chains. It smiled, a chilling grin that revealed teeth as sharp as icicles.

“Peter,” it rasped, voice like crackling fire, “I am the keeper of forgotten promises. The one who collects the broken oaths of children who didn’t keep their word…”

Peter felt his heart stop. He remembered the promises he’d made and broken over the year: promises to be kind, to share, to tell the truth. Now, this creature had come to collect on those broken vows.

With a swift, icy hand, the figure seized Peter’s wrist, binding him with the same cold chains it wore. “Tonight, you will pay the price,” it hissed, dragging him toward the darkness that filled the hall.

Peter screamed, but the shadows swallowed his cries. By morning, all that remained was an empty bed, a single rusted chain, and the faint echo of a twisted carol fading into silence.