The Mirror Ornament

The first sign something was wrong came when the Christmas lights blinked in a pattern that spelled HELP.

Evan rubbed his eyes, laughing it off. Too much eggnog, too little sleep.

Outside, snow fell thick and quiet, swallowing the street. No cars.

No neighbors. Just his house glowing alone like a lure. At midnight, the radio turned

on by itself. A choir sang Silent Night, but every verse ended with a child

sobbing. Evan unplugged it. The sobbing continued—from the chimney. Footsteps creaked

across the ceiling. Slow. Heavy. Dragging something. Then the doorbell

rang. On the porch sat a single present, wrapped in yellowed paper,