"Dear Satan"

My damn dyslexia will be the death of me. In five minutes.

I've re-read the letter ten times now, praying my eyes are playing trick yet again.

But no, there it says, quite clearly, "My deepest condolences, From Satan".

Maybe I should call in a bomb squad. That would be the responsible thing to do. My mistake shouldn't fall on the heads of those unfortunate to live around me. Or I could somehow launch it into space, or bury it in the deepest depths of the ocean. Send it to my enemy... No, that's too evil.

I'll just shove it under my bed and forget about it. It seems harmless now. I just have to resist opening it ...

No, I'll never sleep right again. I should move, leave it buried in the backyard. I could bury it in the national forest next door. But that's probably illegal.

I hold up the small square carefully. It's 7 by 7 inches, flat, and lightweight. Just a few ounces and wrapped in red shiny paper with a bow sporting devil horns. It appeared out of thin air with a pop at the strike of midnight, December 25, Christmas day. Then just hovered in the air one foot from my face.

I shift the paper back and forth as if I can somehow test it's deadliness this way. Then I dare to shake it. Just the faintest rattle.

Well, screw it, I'm opening it. The devil knows me now personally. Can't get any worse.

Yes, I wrote my name and address on the envelope. I wasn't so fortunate as to screw that up.

I peel the folded corners of the paper open, careful not to tear. Unfold it from the back while holding it away from myself at furthest arm's reach. Any explosions will hopefully go the opposite way.

Out of the packaging drops a simple CD. The one I asked for. And a note.

"Dear Michael", it read. "Find a better taste in music."

Every Saturday morning was the same for weeks now. The window curtains would let in a cobalt blue light, letting me know that I'd slept enough, that I should run the shower or the coffee maker or make breakfast or any other reason to motivate me to get up. Today, it was coffee. Honestly, most days were coffee.

My phone buzzed, a text from my sister. "You wanna hang out with me and Georgie today? Ice skating? Santa visit?"

"Sure, what time?" I replied back.

"11am good for you?" she asked.

I looked at my phone, it was a quarter to seven. I sent a thumbs up back and put my phone down. I cupped my hands together and trapped a breath inside before turning on the coffee maker. It grumbled to life, shaking itself in fear or courageousness. Olli had always been both scared and excited by the thing. It was the sign that a walk would happen soon, even in his last days, he'd let out a happy howl and walk towards his leash. A brisk two mile walk around the neighborhood before his breakfast and his post-breakfast nap. The last year of his life, the two mile walks had turned into quarter mile walks. Enough to get to his favorite trees and bushes.

I had tried to continue our routine, but the morning walks had felt a few degrees too cold or too warm or too annoying. I let the coffee brew. In the summers, the dandelions bloomed and littered the neighborhood with their puffs. Olli was a proper fan, taking chunks of the flowers, chasing their seeds when they blew into the air. During the winters, he still searched for them, digging at or rolling around the snow in an attempt to smother the future flowers. Georgie, my nephew, had joined him on several occasions.

"Georgie's been begging for a dog lately," my sister said on one of the walks.

"I thought John was allergic," I said.

"Yeah, but look at them." She replied.

Georgie had been lobbing snowballs in lofty arcs towards Olli who snapped at each one. Georgie would yell and cheer while Olli zoomed around him in neat circles.

The coffee machine screamed its last cry, sputtering out the last of its dark gold. My phone buzzed again, another text from my sister.

"We're writing letters for Santa so make sure you write one too."

"Really?" I sent back.

"Yes, really. Don't be the lame uncle that ruins the magic of Christmas."

I looked for an envelope and a letter when my phone rang again, it was my boss asking for some email forward for something he should have done himself. I told him it was the holidays, that I'd get it done later, but no, he needed it done now. I asked why he couldn't do it, he said he was with family and I said much of the same. He told me it wasn't a request and I told him to piss off. More words, more threats.

My phone buzzed again, my sister letting me know she was here. I looked at the unwritten letter on my coffee table, I jotted the first few things on my mind. Addressed it to the man up north and licked the seal. I told my boss to piss off one last time and wrapped my nephew in a bear hug.

"Uncle Lee!"

"Heya Georgie, you ready to see Santa? You have your Christmas list ready?"

"Mhmm! Can you give me a piggy back ride?" Georgie asked.

"You want a piggy back ride fifteen feet away to the car?" I said, already kneeling down.

He laughed and whispered in my ear.

"I'm going to ask for a dog like Olli," Georgie said.

What a coincidence, I thought.

The day passed, getting colder by the hour. Ice rinks were skated and Santa was visited. The helper elves took every child's letter and said they'd pass it on to the many toy factories in the North Pole. Santa looked glassy-eyed and full of eggnog, but he did his best listening to all of the children's requests for games, pets, and the removal of every vegetable ever. Georgie himself said he wanted to rid the world of cauliflower and I told him I'd ask for the same thing.

I went to sleep thinking about how I'd have to look for a new job, I went to sleep waiting for the morning cobalt to wake me up. Instead, I opened my eyes to a glowing amber. My room felt hot, I smelled smoke. I found the source immediately, a burning box in the middle of the room. It was a large box, wrapped neatly, the thing was on fire, but nothing else had caught its flames.

"Is this a dream?" I said aloud.

I walked closer to the thing, wrapped in red. There was a label on it, a black letter taped onto the side of the present.

"From Satan," it read. "Hey, Boss. We don't normally get requests like that, but I liked the cut of your jib. This thing took a while to track down and it doesn't come free. If you accept the terms and conditions below, it's all yours."

I heard the box shuffle around and the flames quit out. The windows turned cobalt blue, but I was already awake, sitting in front of this box. The ribbons undid themselves and the lid toppled over. I made eye contact with the beast in front of me, likely a demon, a dog shaped demon. A demon named Olli.

Part 1 - The Letter

I stared in confusion at the letter I held in my hand. I'd read it twice already but still didn't understand. "This has to be some twisted joke that my brother Jake is pulling. M-maybe if I read it again..." Jill shuddered, goosebumps crawling up her skin, causing her purple hair to raise a little.

"Dearest Jillian Lancaster Popper," The letter began as she read it aloud this time.

"You have been chosen to be saved from this wretched planet. In one year, humanity will unleash nuclear armageddon upon the land. Obliterating everything and everyone you know and love. However, my esteemed colleagues and I have decided to give you an opportunity to continue living, on another planet, in a separate universe. I will stop by personally in thirty of your earth minutes to confirm your invitation" Jill sunk to the floor.

"This is a prank! Nuclear armageddon, the literal end of the world as we know it! For what?! This is utter bullshit..." Jill sighed, placing the letter on the coffee table before walking into the living room to sit next to her greyhound, Alister.

"What an I gonna do boy, if this isn't a prank?" Alistor curled up in my lap as I drifted off to sleep.

End part 1

I was there, and I had been handed a card by the Prince of Lies.

"...this...it makes no sense."

"Look. You summoned me with your letter. You were the one who came to me asking for a gift."

"I made a typo. That was a letter to Santa."

"You're 40. Santa doesn't give you gifts anymore. You know that as much as anyone. But I'm here and gave you something."

"Well, you didn't give me what was on my list, you obviously aren't Santa."

"Look, if you REALLY want to have eternal damnation for a PS5 or getting your car fixed, I can snap a finger right now and it'll be done. But if someone summons me, I can look in their heart. I can find exactly what is their true heart's desire, and I can give it to them. And I can see- creature comforts won't satisfy that pit in your soul and give you the good life you'd consider to be worth hell. It wouldn't be a fair trade on my end. The deal is always straightforward. I give you a happy life, you accept my torment for an unhappy afterlife."

I looked...and he was right. It's like he got me, in a way beyond those commercials everyone was badmouthing on TV.

"Look. I know you made a typo; this is to your benefit. Usually to the man upstairs, even just summoning me here is enough to condemn you to Hell when you die, so it's basically just getting a reward for seeing me. But, since you sincerely made the typo- if you don't want the reward, I'm sure I can tell the customer services of heaven and they'll cancel punishment for this one. But...if you want it, all you have to do is follow the instructions there and it'll be seen."

Satan vanished in a puff of fire. All that was left was a card.

I opened it, worried this would be the condemnation.

It showed directions to a certain place, a name, and a photo. The message said "...go here, and you'll have what you really want."

But do I listen to it?

As you sit in your room, holding the present, you can't help but think how ironic it is that you misspelled Santa and summoned the devil instead. You start to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, wondering how you could have made such a mistake.

You imagine what it would be like if Lucifer himself came to your house instead of Santa, with his horns and pitchfork, trying to fit down your chimney. You can't help but giggle at the thought of a demonic Claus, delivering presents to all the naughty children of the world.

As you take a closer look at the present, you can't help but be amused by its twisted and macabre appearance. You wonder what He could have possibly given you as a present, perhaps a pair of flaming red horns or a book on the best ways to tempt the innocent.

You decide to keep the present as a funny anecdote, a reminder of the time you accidentally summoned Satan instead of Santa. You wonder what your friends will think when they see the present, and if they will believe your ridiculous story.

As you arrive at the white elephant, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement. You know that the present is going to be the perfect addition to the party, a hilarious and twisted joke that will leave everyone in stitches.

As the gift exchange begins, you watch as the present is passed around, each person laughing and joking about its demonic appearance. However, as the present ends up in your hands, you start to feel like you are being controlled, like something is trying to force you to give it to a specific person.

You try to resist the urge, but it becomes stronger and stronger until you can't help but give the present to a young woman in the room. As you watch her open the present, you feel a sudden surge of dread, a feeling that something is about to go horribly wrong.

Suddenly, the room starts to spin, and you feel a dark energy spreading through the air, like a virus infecting every person in the room. You watch in horror as the people around you start to change, their expressions becoming twisted and malevolent.

You realize that the present was not just a funny anecdote, but a tool to control your mind and spread the devil's message. You try to resist the feeling, but it's too late. You are under His control, and you have unknowingly spread his message to the people around you.

As the party comes to a close, you pick up the present - wondering why Stacy’s hands are so cold. Chuckling to yourself, you step out into the cold December air, the memory of what happened before already starting to fade from your mind. You can't remember why you feel uneasy.

You shake your head, thinking that it must have just been the excitement of the party getting to you. You climb into your car and start driving to your company’s Christmas party, eager to continue the festivities.

It was a very ordinary package. Wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine, it squatted uncomfortably underneath the brightly decorated boughs of my slapdash little Christmas tree. I got a chill every time I passed by it.

The label seemed to shriek at me in a mocking tone, From Satan! From Satan!

From whom, now?

Yeah. Always proofread your letters, kids. Spell checker can...overlook things. Important things.

Very important things, such as whether you are writing to the jolly old elf at the North Pole for a new pair of snow boots--or to the fallen angel Lucifer of Hell for god only knows what.

I hadn't checked my spelling. Oh no, too good for a read-through, no chance that I'd transposed a couple letters and accidentally broken the seal to the Underworld. Not me. Why, I was really good at spelling.

So when the mail ran and the brown paper package appeared on the front step, I was both shocked and appalled to learn of its origin. The damn thing smelled faintly of sulfur, for crying out loud!

Thus what had hitherto been a sense of pleasant anticipation became transformed at once into a sense of terrible dread. There was a package from Satan under my tree!

The days passed inexorably.

Christmas was upon me!

I faced the hellish package with trepidation, sniffing the whiff of sulfur that still arose from the dusty brown paper. With my tiny pocket knife, I cut through the unbleached twine.

I ripped aside the paper grimly to reveal a square cardboard box, clean but rather dented, smelling even more sulfurous than the wrapping. I lifted the lid with trembling hands.

"Augh!" My own face confronted me unexpectedly. At an unflattering angle, no less.

I looked down at myself (and up) in confusion. The mirror was shiny new, with a simple yet elegant filigree frame, tasteful arabesques. I met my own reflected eye and shuddered. In the mirror my gaze seemed full of rage. I saw my dainty features all dark and twisted, and I had to look away. Evil thing, I thought, unsure if I meant the gift or my own self.

Boo, said my face in the mirror, and I slung it edge on like a boomerang into the wall. It left a deep dent in the drywall before shattering.

I looked at the mess.

I met my own gaze, rageful, in a hundred shiny fragments, and I screamed.

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Original Female characters! Not my best work - I'm on AO3, VNiceBish, go check me out! Not really edited 😜

I let laughter bubble out of my chest. Disbelief covered my features as I look down at the letter. Surely it was a prank, most likely from my sister. As soon as I would open it, glittery pink glitter would shoot out and Mindy would jump oit of my closet, tripping on my shoes or pulling shirts off their hangers.

I bit my lip subconsciously, hesitating as I look down t the letter. It was stupid to believe in Santa, anyway. The letter had mostly been for show for my little siblings, and so my parents knew what to get.

It had to be a prank of sorts. "This isn't funny, Mindy," I mumbled, dropping the letter. I trudge over to the closet and pull open the door. It's empty. Under my bed, empty. Bathroom, hallway, each and every crevice is empty.

My heart beats wildly as I turn back to the letter. It has to be a prank, why else would I receive a letter from bloody Satan?

I shove my concerns away, I had to stop being such a baby. I rip the letter in my haste to open the letter and curse as I receive a paper cut.

"F-"

"ANNA!"

I jump, dropping the letter on the ground. I place my foot over the letter and turn to my door as my mum burst through. "Will you take out the trash before your dad gets home?"

"Yeah, of course mum."

She blinks at my easy acceptance, and though I was a little insulted, it made since as I usually argue that Mindy could do it just as easily as I could.

"Alright, and clean this room. It looks like a tornados been through!"

I roll my eyes as she shuts the door and sigh in relief, leaning down to grab the letter.

I sit down at my desk, grabbing scissors. Time to get this over with.

I carefully cut the seal and open the letter-

Only to get covered in glittery pink glitter.

"MINDY HOWARD!"