Justin heard from the kitchen. Damn Carolers, he thought. Come by every year. Nothing but annoying noise.
He'd prepared this time.
For the last month he’d bought cartons of eggnog, let them spoil, until they smelled like fungus-ridden toe-cheese; a true antique by now. He poured them into a large bucket, ready to be thrown on the unsuspecting visitors.
He opened the door just as "Silent Night" began and threw the putrid nog in their faces.
They didn't respond.
The smiles remained, even as the white dripped off their chins. All eyes were on Justin, unblinking and full of joy.
A sound that resembled the screech of brakes came from each of the Carolers’ mouths, starting very low, increasing in volume by the nanosecond. Their faces split down the middle, as if the were opened from inside by some invisible zipper. Underneath was darkness, nothing but. A cold breeze, like the air that escapes a freezer, came, making the already frigid air that much colder. Ballroom music oozed from the pit.
Justin couldn't look away. He felt compelled to look into the empty faces; it was like bait. As if in a daydream, he walked closer, peering in, until he was crawling through, just as a child will climb into a toybox to get to the best toy at the bottom, all the way to his burial.
Then he was gone.
The faces all zipped back up into their facade and they glided away, onto the next house of debauchery.
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