Harvesting Christmas

The first person disappeared three houses down. No screams, no struggle,

just an empty driveway and blood soaking into the snow like red ink.

That same morning, the elf was back on the shelf, perfectly clean,

smiling, hands folded like it had never moved. We told ourselves

it was coincidence. People go missing all the time. But then we noticed something strange.

The elf was heavier. Its cloth body felt dense, swollen,

like something had been stuffed inside it. That night, I looked out

the window and saw it, a small red shape dragging something across