Midnight Caroler Ornament

The singing started at exactly midnight. One voice. Clear. Steady.

Too close. No breath fogged the cold air. No shadow stretched across the porch

light. The song was familiar—but the notes lingered too long, bending unnaturally.

They watched through the peephole. The caroler stood perfectly still. Face pale.

Smile frozen. Mouth opening wider than it should. When the door cracked open,

the singing stopped. Silence pressed in. Then the caroler smiled wider.

The smell came next—wet soil and old leaves. The door slammed shut. In the morning,

muddy footprints crossed the porch… then continued inside. They led to the Christmas tree.