Jol - A Christmas Horror Story

Jo^’l – A Christmas Horror Story

By: Jen DiFatta

The frozen lake cracked beneath his feet. Peter clutched Hannah closer to his chest. “You will not take my daughter! You will not take my daughter!” he repeated to himself. “The ice will hold. It’s Iceland in December. It’s not going to break,” he tried reassuring himself.

__________

The American, Peter Johanson had been supervising a construction project in Skutusadir, Iceland for the past several months. The project wrapped up by the beginning of December, but Peter had paid rent until the end of the month, so he stayed on. He invited his family to visit over the Christmas season. On December 17^th, his wife Danielle, 8- and 6-year-old sons Pete and Danny, and 4-year-old daughter, Hannah had all flown to Iceland to celebrate the holidays.

They stayed in Reykjavik for a few days. The city was alive with Christmas activity. The children were well behaved for the most part, although Pete started complaining about the food by the 3^rd day, and Danny threw a fit in a shop because they wouldn’t buy him the toy he wanted. (They actually HAD bought the toy in secret for a Christmas present.) But overall, they were well behaved for a trio of young children in a foreign country for the first time. Danielle bought a couple picture books of Icelandic folklore to read to the kids once they got to the rental house.

They took a flight on a private plane to get to the northeast part of the island. The family arrived at Peter’s rental house on December 21^st. Everyone was tired, and with the early nightfall, Danielle was reading the children bedtime stories by 7pm.

She read a story about the Yule Lads. Cute little gnomes – think Snow White’s Seven Dwarfs – who caused mischief on the 12 days of Christmas. They chased sheep, stole food, blew out candles, and slammed doors.

That night, the family was startled awake by a loud crash. It sounded like the heavy front door had been opened, then slammed shut. Peter looked around the small house but found nothing out of place except for a few flakes of snow melting on the floor by the door. Exhausted, the family didn’t have much trouble falling back asleep.

The next day, the kids were cranky and whiny. At lunch, Pete had a meltdown because he wanted McDonalds. He refused to eat, even when they got pizza for dinner that night.

Shortly after the kids were tucked into bed, Danny rushed into his parents’ room. Pete and Hannah followed. “Mommy! There’s someone looking in our window!”

Danielle led the kids back to their room. The children stood in the doorway as Danielle flipped the lights off and peered out the window. There was nothing there.

It took awhile to reassure the children and get them back to sleep.

Later, when they were sleeping, the door slammed again. This time, upon checking the house, Peter found the kitchen garbage overturned and food scraps strewn about the room. However, there was nothing or nobody in the house.

“What did it? What did it, Daddy?” asked Danny.

“Maybe it was the Yule Lads,” teased Pete.

“If it was the Yule Lads, maybe they came because of you, Pete,” Peter joked. “They came for your food scraps because you didn’t eat your dinner like a good boy.”

“Noooo!” screamed Pete. “I said I wanted McDonalds! Not this crap! Not Iceland pizza!”

“Pete!” yelled mom. “Cut it out. There is no McDonalds here. We told you that. Not even in the city.”

“What kind of dumb country doesn’t even have McDonalds? I want to go home! I want to go home!”

Danny was crying. Hannah clung to her mother’s leg.

“Danny, what’s wrong?” asked Danielle.

“Did the Yule Lads really come here?” asked the boy. “Are they gonna take Pete away because he was bad?”

Danielle answered, “First of all, the Yule Lads aren’t real. And even if they were, the book didn’t say they take kids. They just cause mischief.”

“What’s a mischief?” whispered Hannah. “Is it bad?”

“No. It’s just means being naughty,” explained Danielle. “Like knocking over the garbage can.”

Danny cried harder. “It was the Yule Lads!” he blubbered through his tears.

Young Pete, meanwhile, was still screaming about McDonalds and how he was starving and that he hated everyone and wanted to go home.

“OK, Pete, knock it off right now and get back in bed!” yelled Peter.

Pete hurried to the kids’ bedroom and slammed the door, but not before yelling “I hate you!” one more time.

The door slammed again. And again.

“Peter Jr!” cried Peter. “Cut that out right now!”

Slam! Slam! Slam!

Then the lights went out.

Hannah screamed and started crying. Danny cried harder than before.

“Don’t worry,” said Peter. “This happens sometimes. It will come back on in a minute.”

A shrill scream came from the kids’ room. Then Slam! Slam! Slam!

“Pete!” cried Danielle and ran to his door.

The boy wasn’t there. By the light of her cell phone, Danielle saw all the covers pulled off the beds, the toys strewn all over the floor. But no Pete.

The lights came back on. Danielle screamed. A small pool of blood was on Pete’s mattress. Another smear of blood on the windowsill.

Peter and the kids ran to her. Danielle pulled the door shut. She grabbed Danny and Hannah’s hands. “I’m taking them to our room,” she said to Peter. “Go look.”

“What’s happening, Mommy?” cried Danny.

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s OK. Petey just has a boo-boo. Daddy’s gonna take care of it.”

A moment later, Peter came back to the room. Danielle searched his face. It wasn’t good.

Danielle left the children on the bed and walked to her husband. Putting her face to his ear, she inquired about Pete. Peter shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “Gone. And the window is sealed shut. I couldn’t open it. Get yours and the kids’ boots on and have your coats ready. I’m going outside to look.”

Danielle clutched Peter’s hand; she was holding back tears. “Be careful.”

Peter pulled on his coat and boots and stepped outside. The air was cold and still. The sky was clear and full of eerie, green, Northern lights.

He searched around the perimeter of the house, stopping outside Pete’s window. In the snow, he saw what looked like a set of huge footprints, nearly twice as long as his size 11 boot. More drops of blood stood out bright red on the white snow.

“Pete!” he screamed. But heard nothing but the wind.

An hour later, the police were just leaving, reassuring the family that they were doing everything possible to look for the missing child. They had said that kidnapping was very rare and asked if it was possible that Pete was playing a prank because he was mad at his parents – but even if that was the case, it was important he was located quickly so he didn’t freeze or get hurt on the harsh, volcanic landscape nearby.

Peter left with the officers to help with the search. Danielle and the two children all slept in the parents’ bed.

Peter got home just as the sun was rising, around 11:00. Danielle had just finished making breakfast, but nobody was eating. Peter warmed himself with a cup of coffee, then made his way to bed.

The police paid another visit in the afternoon. Nobody had seen any sign of Pete. One of the officers had brought a small gift basket with some traditional Christmas treats for the family and stuffed dolls for Hannah and Danny. They promised that they were still searching and would also be keeping an eye on the house.

The lights went off again around 7:00. This time, they didn’t come right back on. Peter noticed that oddly enough, the power wasn’t out, just the lights. He checked the lightbulbs – they were all unscrewed. He went around the house screwing the lightbulbs back in. As soon as he had finished with every light, the lights went off again. He did this twice more before he gave up. He took a table lamp and held onto it. That lightbulb stayed lit.

Danielle wanted to take Danny and Hannah and stay at a hotel. Peter would stay behind in case Pete came back. But as soon as they tried to leave, a strong snowstorm started up. It was impossible to see even a foot in front of the car. They were forced to remain in the house.

Danielle once again took the children to bed with her. Peter made a pot of coffee and stayed awake on the couch.

Midnight. It was now December 24^th, Christmas Eve. The door to the children’s room slammed.

Peter had fallen asleep on the couch but was startled awake. “Pete!” he cried and rushed to the room. Danielle was there, too, with the children clinging to her. They watched in horror as the door slammed again and again. The kids were screaming, and Danielle had started to cry. As they stood by the bedroom door, the front door began to slam.

Peter ran to the living room. Outside of the door, a police officer stood, a look of shock on his face as he watched the door open and slam, open and slam. When it finally stopped, he stepped in through the open door and muttered something in Icelandic – “Hurdaskellir.”

“Door slammer?” asked Peter, who knew the language. “Does that mean something?”

“He’s one of the Yule Lads,” piped up Danny. Danielle and the children had followed Peter into the room.

The officer nodded.

“But that’s impossible,” said Peter. “That’s just a story. And besides, there’s no one there.”

“The lights, the garbage, the doors . . .” said Danielle as the lights all came back on.

Peter picked up Hannah, who had been tugging on the hem of his shirt. “It’s alright, baby. It’s just stories.”

“Gryla is back, and she’s taken your son,” whispered the officer in Icelandic. He had still clearly not recovered from witnessing the door slamming.

“Who’s that?” asked Peter. “Who is this Gryla?”

“Gryla is a ogre lady that gives bad kids rotten potatoes,” explained Danny. “She’s in the story with the Yule Lads.”

The officer was again nodding at this. Still speaking in Icelandic, so the children could not understand, he said, “That’s what they tell the kids NOW. A long time ago, when my dad was a kid, and for a hundred years before that, the stories said that Gryla the Ogress ate the bad children.”

“Snap out of it, man,” said Peter sharply. But just at that moment, he saw something through the still open door. A large black cat, as tall as a human stood hissing in the snow, its eyes glowing angry and yellow. It yowled and tried to lunge through the doorway. The officer snapped out of his trance and slammed himself against the door, shutting it in the giant cat’s snarling face. It hissed and clawed at the door.

Hannah screamed and buried her face in Peter’s neck. Danielle took Danny and ran back to the bedroom.

A moment later, Danielle screamed. Peter and the officer rushed to the bedroom. Danielle’s lifeless body lay bleeding on the floor. Standing over her was a tall figure. Its face was gnarled, with a long, bulbous nose covered in warts. It had a long dirty beard and ragged clothes. It was holding a bloody meat hook.

Danny was gone and the window was open. The officer pulled out his baton and squeezed himself through the window. As the policeman gave chase, Peter caught a glimpse of a huge, many-tailed creature running from the house.

Clutching Hannah closer to his chest, Peter ran from the room. He could still hear the cat scratching at the front door.

He quickly grabbed coats, hats and gloves for himself and Hannah. He set Hannah down just for as much time as it took him to pull on her coat and boots and to put his own coat on, then he ran for the back door.

Peter tossed Hannah into the car, quickly pushing the snow off the windshield with his arm before he got in. He started the car, and sped off, as fast as the snow-covered road would allow, towards the nearby village.

Through the rearview, he saw that that the cat had given chase. With huge strides, it was quickly gaining on him. He pressed the gas pedal, hoping that he wouldn’t lose control of the car on the slippery road.

Behind him, another large troll, carrying a bleating sheep under each arm, stumbled out into the road in front of the cat. The cat crashed into the troll. They both fell. The cat and the troll began to fight as the sheep ran off in the opposite direction.

Peter let out a breath as he realized the cat and the troll were no longer pursuing him. His slight feeling of relief was short-lived. Ahead of him stood a giantess, blocking the road. She wore a tattered and bloodied dark wool cloak. Her hood covered much of her face, but he could see the long hook of her nose and her stained, pointed teeth. Waving behind her were many tails, each ending in a sharp, bony point.

The giantess lunged forward and growled at Peter’s car. He slammed on the brakes to prevent crashing into her. Instead, his car went spinning off the road. It slid down an embankment and crashed into a snowbank on the edge of a small, frozen lake. The giantess began to give chase. Peter saw the lights of a farmhouse on the far bank. He grabbed Hannah and made a run for it.

The frozen lake cracked beneath his feet. Peter clutched Hannah closer to his chest. “You will not take my daughter! You will not take my daughter!” he repeated to himself. “The ice will hold. It’s Iceland in December. It’s not going to break,” he tried reassuring himself.

But Gryla, the giantess, had caught up to them. She swiped at Hannah with her long claws. Peter turned Hannah away from the creature and the claws tore deeply into his back, through his thick coat and sweater. He kept ahold of Hannah despite the intense pain. But as Gryla drew her hand back, one of her tails swooped around in the other direction. The sharp point caught Hannah in the side, like a fishhook, and she was wrenched out of Peter’s grasp.

Gryla cried a menacing victory growl as Peter fell back onto the ice. The ice crackled from the weight of the giantess.

Bang!

At first Peter thought it was the ice giving completely away. But two more shots rang out, followed by three more. A policeman and two villagers had arrived with shotguns and were shooting the giantess with iron pellets.

The giantess grabbed her chest and howled. She fell hard into the ice, breaking through into the cold water. As she plunged into the icy lake, the tail holding Hannah was the last to go under.

Peter threw himself forward to grab his daughter. He felt his breath leave his lungs as he was submerged in the freezing water. He blacked out as he felt Hannah’s arm slide out of his hand.

__________

Peter woke in a hospital bed. A police officer sat beside him.

“Hannah!” he cried.

“It’s OK,” said the officer. “She’s recovering from surgery. It’s bad, but she’ll recover. Once the nurse sees you, we’ll go to her.”

“But how? It was a monster. How did you kill a monster?”

“Our guns were loaded with iron. Ogres do not like iron. It did not kill her, but it hurt her. She ran off. We pulled you and your little girl out just in time.”

“And the monsters are real?” asked Peter.

“In Iceland, they are. I did not really believe. My grandma was the last one I knew who truly believed. But we know the stories and still carry the superstition. And when I saw with my own eyes, I knew exactly what it was.” The officer sighed. “I wish I did not have to believe. I wish my eyes never saw.”