With yuletide approaching, all through the house, nothing was stirring, not even a mouse, but standing and watching at the foot of a bed, was a man and a woman, with thoughts of murder and mayhem tucked away in their heads.

One of them was fair the other one dark, both of them a nightmare each with their own devilish spark, even in this time of good cheer to all of mankind, their thoughts were wrapped up with dark mischief you’ll find.

Not unlike a gentlemen with a penchant for wearing red fur lined bright suits, this pair had a thing about lists and both wore knee high shiny fine boots, the looked and they watched they hardly dare breathe, whilst  under the covers their victim had no more time for dreams to retrieve.

Unaware that time like their life was slipping away by poison dripped on their lips administered by the two silent ghost-like figures who watched, adept at their art of snuffing out life a thing to them so easily squashed, and yet, has this person been naughty? Has this person been nice? And at the end of the day does it matter to those with hearts cold as ice?

Beyond the window it is snowing, there is holly hanging on the wall, there is a tree in the corner, decorated with many a shiny bauble, the figure in the bed draws one last rattling breath, and into the room steps the figure we all know, the reaper, noble and wise whose name is Death.

With a nod from their heads all is now done, they walk off into the night with no need to run, leave the house walk into the silent falling snow, cloaks wrapped about them tight leave’s me wondering where next they will go?

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