By Weibo Grobler

“Go on. Get it off your chest.” Jack said.

“What’s the point? You don’t listen. You should have picked a tree weeks ago.”

“Trust me. The guy said he has loads.”

“Loads of sickly shit more like.”

Jack parked and exited the car. Beautiful trees were visible from outside a ten foot fence.

A thin old man in coveralls walked over with a white Alsatian.

“Frank?” Jack asked.

“Aye.” The man replied, his voice like nails on a blackboard.

“Isn’t he lovely,” Nancy bent down to pet the dog, “what’s he called?”

“Gnasher.”

Nancy pulled her hand back.

“Go on then. ‘ave a look round. Don’t cut the trees. I’ll do it. Stay on the path.” Frank said.

The trees were perfect.

“See? What did I say?”

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” Nancy replied.

She stepped off the path and walked deeper into the trees. A beautiful Douglas fir had caught her eye.

She ran her hand across the needles but snapped it back. “Ow!”

“What happened?”

Nancy held her up hand. Several tiny holes with blood beading from them slowly dripped onto the snow like holly berries.

There was a creak and groan from the surrounding trees. It was the only warning they had.

The trees wrapped around Nancy and Jack. Pine needles punctured skin and branches coiled around their limbs like boa constrictors.

Nancy opened her mouth to scream but a branch thrust down her throat shredding her tongue and vocal cords.

Frank found what was left of them twenty minutes later.

“Stop. Eating. The customers!” Frank shouted. “How do you expect to get into homes if you can’t control yourselves?”

The trees sagged and moaned.

Frank bent down and threw Nancy’s femur to Gnasher who caught it mid-air.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

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