Silent Night, Scream-filled Night

Mia wasn't thrilled about the sleepover. She barely knew Harper, the new girl who had transferred in last month, but Emily insisted they all hang out.

"She's lonely," Emily had said, her voice filled with a hint of sympathy. Mia, though reluctant, agreed. It was the holiday season, and they were all supposed to be celebrating together.

Harper's house was old, nestled at the edge of town like something out of a forgotten era. The walls creaked with the weight of years, and the scent of old wood and something faintly metallic lingered in the air. The kind of place that made you feel like you were being watched, even when you were alone. Her parents were "away," Harper explained, leaving the four teenagers to themselves for the night.

By midnight, they were sprawled on the floor of the living room, sipping hot cocoa and laughing, though it felt forced. The Christmas tree glowed softly in the corner, its twinkling lights casting long, wavering shadows on the walls. Mia glanced at the tree, her unease growing. It felt like the light wasn't coming from the bulbs but from something deeper, something wrong.

Harper sat cross-legged near the tree, staring at the unopened presents that had been placed under it. "You can open one," she said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft but carried an unsettling weight to it.

"What?" Emily chuckled, unsure if she was supposed to take it seriously.

"Just one," Harper said, her eyes never leaving the presents. There was something in the way she said it that made Mia's skin crawl.

Emily leaned forward, still hesitant but curious, and picked up a small box wrapped in red paper. She tore it open and frowned when she saw what was inside. It was a small wooden ornament, a figure with arms outstretched like it was begging for something. The face was carved with jagged features, the smile grotesque, and the eyes-dark, hollow. There was no warmth in them.

"That's... creepy," Emily said, holding it away from her like it might bite. She let out a nervous laugh, but it didn't sound convincing.

Harper's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "It's tradition," she said simply.

Mia felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She wasn't sure why, but something about this house, the presents, and Harper's odd calm made her want to leave. "I'm good," Mia said quickly, trying to brush off the unease she felt. "I think I'll pass on the gifts."

Harper didn't respond. Instead, she stood and walked toward the kitchen, the sound of a drawer opening and closing echoing throughout the still house.

"What's going on with her?" Emily whispered, her voice shaky.

"I don't know, but I think we should go," Mia whispered back. The chill in the room was unbearable now.

Before they could make a move, the lights flickered. The entire room plunged into darkness.

"Harper?" Emily called out, her voice higher than usual, a tremor lacing her words.

There was no response. Just silence.

Then, the unmistakable sound of slow, deliberate footsteps. The floorboards groaned under the weight of someone walking toward them.

Mia's heart raced. "Harper, stop it," she called, trying to sound confident, but the words caught in her throat. The footsteps stopped.

Then, the sound of a door creaking open echoed through the room. Harper appeared in the doorway. She was holding a large carving knife, its blade gleaming under the faint light from the Christmas tree.

"What the hell, Harper?" Ethan, one of the guys in the group, said, his voice faltering.

"You're part of the tradition now," Harper said, her voice eerie and soft.

Mia froze, and so did the others. Emily tried to speak, but the words didn't come. The tension in the air felt like it was choking them.

Harper stepped into the room, moving closer to them with unnerving calmness. She raised the knife slightly, like a ritualistic offering.

"Harper, what are you doing?" Ethan asked again, this time his voice thick with concern.

"I'm making sure the tradition continues," Harper said, her eyes never leaving their faces. She seemed almost hypnotized by the knife. Her lips parted slightly in what could have been a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Ethan quickly grabbed Emily's arm, pulling her back. "Let's go. This is-"

But before he could finish, Harper lunged, her arm outstretched with the knife. The movement was swift, the blade slicing through the air.

Mia screamed as she pushed Emily away, but the knife found its mark. It didn't strike any of them, but the swish of the air was close enough to make them freeze in terror.

"Run!" Mia shouted.

They scrambled to their feet, rushing for the stairs. Ethan turned back one last time, his eyes wide in disbelief. "What the hell is happening?"

They reached the upstairs bedroom and slammed the door behind them. Mia could hear their hearts pounding in unison. The floor trembled as footsteps echoed below.

Emily pressed her hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. "What... What's going on with her? What is this?"

"I don't know," Mia whispered. She scanned the room, desperate for anything that could help. But the room was empty, save for a few old boxes and a pile of forgotten blankets.

Suddenly, the door began to creak, groaning under the pressure of something trying to get in. Harper's voice drifted through the cracks, distant yet chilling. "You can't leave. Not yet."

Ethan bolted to the door, pushing against it with all his strength, but it was no use. The door creaked open slowly, inch by inch, as Harper's figure appeared in the doorway once more, her smile wide and unnerving.

She was getting closer.

"Please," Emily whispered, her voice shaky. "Please, Harper, stop."

But the girl didn't stop. She stepped forward, knife raised.

Mia lunged at Harper, shoving her back with all her force. But Harper didn't flinch. Instead, she grabbed Mia's wrist with unnatural strength, pulling her close. "Tradition," she whispered in a voice that made Mia's skin crawl.

In that moment, Mia shoved the lamp off the bedside table, swinging it at Harper's head. It hit with a dull thud, but Harper didn't even blink. She just smiled.

"Tradition," she repeated. And as if the word had some power, the room seemed to close in on them, suffocating in its quiet terror.

Ethan backed away slowly, his eyes wide with fear. "We need to go. Now."

But it was too late. The house was no longer just a house. It had become something else-something that watched, something that was alive.