Merry Christmas everyone! I do hope you enjoy this little short story I've kicked up to acompany the main Blood of the Damned story... though set during Christmas of course. For those of other religions, I apologize that I have not made a special for you. I don't know much about the winter holidays of other religions however, and I'd rather not insult you by getting it all wrong. So I hope you all can enjoy this regardless. Happy Holidays!

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Blood of the Damned
Christmas Special 2009

Every year Sam and Liam put up coloured lights around the edge of their roof. Every year they put up a Christmas tree and decorated it with the kids, with lights and glass ornaments, with smiling Santas and topped with an angel. Every year they went to parties and mingled with friends as wine flowed and they got progressively more drunk, until they finally stumbled home to pay the babysitter. Every year they saw their paycheques spiral away into the colourfully wrapped boxes that piled beneath the tree.

Every year, their children woke them up at the crack of dawn, with such innocent excitement on their faces. Sam and Liam would pull on housecoats and grab steaming mugs of coffee and they padded down the hallway in their slippers. Laughter and cheer filled the house, as little Robbie and Timmy pulled the wrapping paper away like little savages.

Just like Timmy had pulled...

But every year the two little boys were always so happy, playing with their new toys, begging Mommy and Daddy to help them put some of their new things together so they could play.

Liam sighed as he looked at the empty corner where the tree would have stood every year before. He picked up a picture of his wife standing behind their two sons. Liam remembered taking that picture, and as he thought back to that day he brought the bottle of liquor to his lips.

The sound of Sam's sobs echoed down the hall. Ever since the death of their boys, she hadn't been the same. Not that Liam could blame her, not after what they saw. Not after Timmy's arm had been ripped off by the post man.

Liam remembered the frantic journey to the hospital, dodging traffic that had lost all sense of laws and rules. Order had fallen to chaos in less than a few hours.

The hospital had been nothing but blood stains and walking corpses, so Liam had no choice but to bring Timmy home, still sobbing as he clutched at the stump that had once been an elbow. Blood was already soaking through the once white bandages.

Sam had taken over then, going to the extreme in an attempt to save her son. Heating an iron up, she held her son down on the ground, and with tears in her eyes she pressed the appliance against little Timmy's stump.

Oh how the child had screamed. Liam had been in the other room, covering Robbie's ears while his brother screamed out in an almost inhuman growl.

Liam tossed the picture down and took a hard swallow of his booze. The treatment hadn't been enough, and Timmy died. Within a few minutes, Sam had found her son ripping the skin of Robbie's stomach open, and pulling intestines out and shoving them into his greedy mouth. Poor little Robbie had been unable to scream as his tongue had been bitten off.

Liam had been barricading the house, when he heard the two gunshots that ensured his two sons would never again walk. Sam hadn't left her room since. Every time Liam checked in on her she would softly stroke the gun that had killed the boys.

Now Liam just sat in his chair, staring at the corner where the Christmas tree should have been, sucking back at the booze he'd been collecting over time. As he finished off the one in his hand, he let the cool glass slip from his hand. It landed hard on the floor, clinking against other empty bottles, but not breaking. The world swirled around him in a haze, and the memories of that first day kept haunting him. He couldn't escape it anymore than his wife could.

And so into a black haze, Liam hurled himself.

~~~~

Getting off the bed and setting her feet on the ground, Sam rubbed her eyes and let her fingertips slide along the cool, slick metal of the gun. She left the bedroom behind, gun in hand, and moved down the hallway. Red eyes glanced at the family photos neatly hung on the walls, and quickly looked away. There was no joy to be found in them anymore, only sorrow.

With each footstep her hand reached out, and tossed one of the framed photos to the ground. She finally made her way to the living room, her eyes darting for a moment to the corner where the Christmas tree would have been. She could hear the creatures outside pounding on the barricaded doors.

Sam moved behind Liam, no more tears flowing down her face. She had only one gift to give today, and she expected nothing in return.

Pressing the barrel of her pistol against the back of her husband's skull Sam licked her lips. Poor Liam; what had happened had shattered his mind. He wasn't at peace with anything anymore, he couldn't even look Sam in the eyes. Shame filled him for his failure to protect his family.

Sam's last gift to him was peace. From this world, and from the horrors that had become so common place.

"Merry Christmas my love," Sam whispered into Liam's ear.

He didn't even stir in his drunken sleep, and Sam pulled the trigger.

She was alone now. But Liam would have peace, and be with the children. Sam would simply do what she could to survive, and if she didn't... well the family would be waiting for her.