My phone almost slipped from my hand.

Going to die? What does that mean?

I immediately started a voice call. It rang twice before he picked up.

"Hello?" His voice was calm, a young man.

"Please tell me what's happening!" I was practically sobbing. "What do you mean my whole family is going to die?!"

"Calm down," he said, his tone unnervingly level. "Whether you live or die depends on luck. But if you're willing to trust me and follow my instructions exactly, you might have a chance."

"What instructions? I'll do anything!"

"Listen carefully. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. From 11:30 PM to 2:00 AM, your entire family needs to be in the living room, in sleeping bags, under the Christmas tree."

"And then what?"

"This is the most important rule," he said, his voice turning serious. "You have to be perfect sleepers. You can't actually fall asleep—absolutely not, or you'll die in your sleep. But no matter what you hear, what you smell, or even if you feel something touch you, you absolutely cannot open your eyes or break character."

My voice trembled. "Something will… touch us?"

"It will test you," he said. "To see if you're really asleep." He paused. "Once it hits 2:00 AM, it will leave. Remember, 2:00 AM sharp."

"What happens if we mess up?"

"Do you really want to know?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Search for the 'Millbrook Family Christmas Massacre,' the 'Vermont Christmas Eve Slayings,' and the 'Connecticut Santa Claus Killer.' You'll understand."

After the call, I immediately searched for those keywords.

The first result made my breath catch in my throat.

Millbrook Family of Four Found Dead on Christmas, Scene a 'Slaughterhouse'

The news photo was blurry but horrifying enough: a blood-spattered living room, the Christmas tree toppled over, its lights still blinking. Four bodies were twisted into unnatural positions, their faces frozen in expressions of extreme pain and terror.

Vermont Family of Five Dies Mysteriously on Christmas Eve, Cause of Death Unknown

This family died in their living room, arranged in a circle. All of their eyes had been gouged out and the sockets stuffed with fine, black powder.

Connecticut 'Santa Claus Killer' Strikes Again, Victims Include Two Children

The photos for this one were even more disturbing.

The victims' limbs were bent at impossible angles, as if they had been snapped by some immense force.

Every case took place in a single-family home with a fireplace and chimney.

Every case happened on Christmas Eve.

Every case had no signs of forced entry.

And at every single crime scene, they found the same thing: scattered black powder under the Christmas tree.

I felt sick.

At dinner, I knew I had to tell my parents.

"Dad, Mom, I need to talk to you," I said, putting down my fork. "It's about Sophie."

I told them everything—my online discovery, NocturneNotes' instructions, the news reports.

Dad frowned when I finished. "Chloe, you're an engineering student. You should believe in science. These internet horror stories aren't good for you."

"Dad, I can show you the news reports—"

"You can fake anything online." Dad stood up, walked to the storage closet, and pulled out a shotgun. "If there really is an intruder, this will take care of it."

He checked the chamber, made sure it was loaded, then activated our smart home security system.

"Full-coverage cameras, motion sensors, window and door alarms," he said proudly. "Not even a fly can get in. This is a lot more reliable than your internet friend's advice."

"Dad, please!" I begged, tears streaming down my face. "It's just one night! If I'm wrong, you can punish me however you want! But if I'm right…"

I turned my phone screen towards them, showing them the pictures of the bodies.

Mom glanced at it, her hand flying to her mouth, her face pale.

"Oh, God, those pictures…"

Dad looked at my ashen face and sighed. "Fine. But I'm keeping the gun with me, and the security system stays on."

Last was Sophie.

I suddenly had an idea.

"Sophie, do you want that biggest present under the tree? The LEGO castle?"

Sophie's eyes lit up. "Really? Can I open it now?"

"You can, but you have to play a special Christmas game with us," I said, crouching down to look her in the eye. "Tomorrow night, we're all going to play 'Sleeping Statues' in the living room. From 11:30 to 2:00, we all have to lie down by the tree and pretend to be asleep. No matter what happens, no matter what noises you hear, you can't open your eyes or talk. Can you do that?"

Sophie nodded excitedly. "I'm the best at pretending to sleep! I do it all the time when Mom checks on me!"

"Good girl," I said, stroking her hair. "Remember, no matter what, don't open your eyes. That's the most important rule of the game."

Now, everything depended on tomorrow night.

At 11:20 PM on Christmas Eve, the four of us were lying in sleeping bags in the living room.

Only the red and green glow of the Christmas tree lights flickered in the darkness. The house was unnervingly quiet.

Dad's shotgun lay right next to his sleeping bag. The green light of the smart security system blinked steadily on the wall.

Sophie, dressed in her favorite unicorn pajamas, lay beside me, buzzing with excitement. "Chloe, when does the game start?"

"In ten minutes, at 11:30," I whispered. "You remember the rules?"

"I remember! Don't open your eyes, don't talk, and don't fall asleep," Sophie nodded seriously. "I can totally make it to two o'clock."

Mom shifted in her sleeping bag. "Chloe, I still think this is ridiculous," she whispered. "Lying on the living room floor because of some stranger on the internet…"

"Shh," Dad cut her off. "We already agreed. We'll do what Chloe says. It's just a few hours."

At exactly 11:30 PM, I glanced at my phone and whispered, "It's starting."

The minutes ticked by.

At first, nothing happened. I could hear Dad's heavy breathing, Mom shifting occasionally, and the tiny rustles Sophie made trying to stay still.

12:10 AM. Still nothing.

12:20 AM. Sophie was getting restless.

"Chloe…" she mumbled. "I'm cold, and the floor is hard. I wanna go back to bed."

Dad started to question it too. "Chloe, it's been almost an hour. Nothing's happening. What's the point of this game?"

He started to sit up. "That's enough. Let's go back to our rooms. We have to get up early for Christmas dinner tomorrow."

Mom began to pack up her sleeping bag. "Yeah, this floor is killing my back."

Sophie immediately chimed in. "I wanna go to my room, too!"

I was about to stop them when, suddenly…

Screee—craaape—screee…

A high, grinding screech of tearing metal echoed from the central air vent in the ceiling, as if something enormous was crawling through the narrow ductwork.

Everyone froze.

Then, a clearer sound came from deep within the fireplace.

Scrape… scrape… scrape…

Something was moving down the chimney.

Whoosh…

A shower of soot and brick dust rained down from the fireplace, sounding as loud as thunder in the silent room.

Sophie gripped my arm in terror. Mom let out a stifled scream.

"Get down!" I hissed, using all my strength to keep my voice low. "Close your eyes! Pretend to be asleep! Now!"

Dad's face was white as a sheet. He shut his eyes, his hand gripping the shotgun, the barrel aimed at the fireplace.

I cracked one eye open just a sliver, watching the fireplace.

I saw it. A long, thin, pale thing extended from the chimney.

It looked like the leg of some kind of insect, with sharp, distinct joints and a pointed claw at the end. It slowly reached out, grabbing the mantelpiece, its claw making a horrifying scratching sound against the stone.

Suddenly, the smart security panel on the wall began to flash wildly, its red light as piercing as a siren.

The system's cold, mechanical voice blared through the living room:

"WARNING. PREMISES HAVE BEEN BREACHED. WARNING. PREMISES HAVE BEEN BREACHED. UNKNOWN BIOLOGICAL ENTITY DETECTED. THREAT LEVEL: CRITICAL. EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY. WARNING. PREMISES HAVE—"

The limb extending from the chimney stopped dead, its claw digging into the mantelpiece, completely still.

As if it were waiting.

I prayed the alarm would scare the monster away.

But in the next second, the claw shot out, extending with impossible speed and precision, and slammed down on the security panel's off switch.

I watched in horror as the security system went silent.

And the thing from the chimney began to slowly, piece by piece, crawl out of the fireplace…