Tommy didn’t want the nutcracker in his room, but he had no say in the matter. His mom had insisted on placing it on top of the nightstand by his bed, right next to the alarm clock.
The six-inch tall nutcracker leered menacingly at him with bared teeth. It clutched a sword in its right hand. In his ten years of life, Tommy had never seen anything so frightening. Oh, he had seen nutcrackers before. Plenty of them. They were everywhere during the Christmas season! His parents had even taken him to the Nutcracker ballet a couple of times.
This was different. Something was off about this particular nutcracker. There was an ominous glint in its eyes, a menacing, angry glare that chilled Tommy to the bone.
Tommy wanted to demand that his mom take the nutcracker away. He wanted to tell her that he never wished to see it again, and to please toss the godforsaken thing into the woodchipper in the backyard.
Of course, he couldn’t. It would upset her too much. Three weeks ago, his dad had brought the nutcracker home as a souvenir after returning from a ski trip. Two days later, he’d been killed in a car accident. A drunk driver had run a red light and plowed into him, killing him instantly. For the first time, it was going just be him and his mom on Christmas.
They had forgotten about the nutcracker for a while after the accident. It had been haphazardly stuffed in a storage closet with all the other souvenirs that his dad had brought home. Earlier in the day, his mom had brought it into his room for the first time.
It was the last gift he would ever receive from his father. That’s what his mom had told him, and Tommy supposed that she was right. Where had his dad bought it? Had he ever told him? Tommy couldn’t remember.
His mom appeared in the doorway. “All right, Tommy, time for bed! You finished your homework, right?”
Tommy’s heart sank. He had indeed finished his homework. The assignment had been in his worst subject — math — but he had worked hard. For once, he felt confident that his equations were correct. Normally, this would have made him happy. But the prospect of a night alone in his room, with the nutcracker staring at him as he slept, filled him with terror.
“Can you plug in the night light?” Tommy asked, feeling a tad embarrassed. Was he too old to be afraid of the dark? Did his mom think he was a wimp?
“No problem at all, sweety,” she replied.
“It’s in the desk drawer,” Tommy said, pointing. His mom nodded.
He felt another flush of embarrassment. His friends would make fun of him mercilessly if they knew he had a teddy bear night light. He’d had it since he was four and, honest to God, he slept better when it was on.
His mom retrieved the night light and plugged it into the socket next to the bedroom door. “All right, see you in the morning!”
I hope so, Tommy almost said. “Good night, Mom.”
Once she was gone, Tommy reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the nutcracker. Was it his imagination, or did it make a grunting sound as he picked it up?
This is ridiculous, Tommy thought. It’s just a piece of wood. I really need to grow up. Tommy turned the nutcracker around so that its back was facing him. The nutcracker could no longer see him. It could stare at the wall forever for all he cared. Tommy sighed, closed his eyes, and waited for sleep to take him.
Tommy woke up with a start and glanced at his alarm clock. It was 2.25 in the morning. What had woken him up? Tommy glanced furtively at the night light. It was still on. He sighed with relief. Hopefully, he would be able to get back to sleep soon. He had school in the morning.
Suddenly, Tommy’s heart jumped. The nutcracker was staring at him again. Somehow, it had turned back around. But that was impossible! Had his mom come in while he was asleep and moved it? He didn’t think so. Why would she?
“Stupid thing,” Tommy muttered. He grabbed the nutcracker and threw it as hard as he could. It careened through the air and smacked against the wall next to the teddy bear night light, falling with a thud onto the carpet. Tommy thought he heard a moan. This is crazy, he thought. You’re going bonkers, dude. This isn’t real. Grow up, man!
The nutcracker was illuminated by the night light. Tommy watched it for a few moments. It lay prone on the carpet, not moving, behaving exactly as an inanimate object should. I really need to get some more sleep, Tommy thought. He closed his eyes and drifted away again.
Tommy was dreaming about Christmas. He was sitting in front of the family Christmas tree. A present wrapped in red paper and gold tinsel was sitting on his lap. What was inside? He was hoping for a new iPad this year. “Go ahead and open it, honey!” his mom encouraged.
Tommy was about to reply when he heard a strange sound.
“ RRRRRR.”
“What’s that?” Tommy asked.
“What do you mean, honey? I don’t hear anything,” his mom replied.
“It kind of sounds like something growling,” Tommy told her.
“I think you’re imagining things, honey. Go ahead and open your present.”
Tommy tore at the wrapping paper, eager to discover what was inside. He tried to rip open the cardboard box, but it was taped closed.
“You’ll need these, dear,” his mom said, handing him a pair of scissors. Tommy cut into the box, pulled it open, and gaped in horror.
Inside was the nutcracker from his bedroom. “RRRR!” it growled.
“MOM!” Tommy shouted.
Tommy woke up. “Oh, thank goodness,” he said, sighing with relief. He glanced at his alarm clock. 5:30 am; only half an hour until he was supposed to get up. No big deal. He would just stay awake until his mom told him breakfast was ready.
He glanced over at his night light and his heart skipped a beat. The nutcracker was no longer there. This is impossible. I’m still dreaming, Tommy thought.
Tommy noticed some motion out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and screamed. The nutcracker was standing over him. Somehow, it had climbed from the floor to the top of the bedsheets. Tommy couldn’t move. He had learned about fight, flight, or freeze in school, and he was as frozen as Frosty the Snowman.
“RRRRR!” the nutcracker growled again, sounding even more angry. Its eyes were glowing a bright shade of red. It hoisted its sword in the air, ready to attack, determined to dispatch the foe that had unceremoniously dumped it onto the bedroom floor.
Tommy wanted to punch or kick the nutcracker off the bed. He wanted to flee, run into his mom’s room, and never sleep in his bed ever again.
Instead, all he could do was scream. And scream. And scream.
Thank you for reading! This story was inspired by the surprising dearth of nutcrackers in horror fiction.
