Read Online Year's End: 14 Tales of Holiday Horror by J. Alan Hartman - Free Book Online Page A

knocked at the door. Angela answered, looking furious. “Where the hell were you? You promised you’d be at the restaurant by nine.”
    “Honey, it’s been a terrible night.”
    “You don’t know terrible. I sat alone, waiting for an hour straight.”
    “I killed two people.”
    She grimaced. “You didn’t go to the resolution place, did you? You went drinking with your buddies instead. I ask you to do one thing and you can’t even do that. I had the whole evening planned.”
    I had to make her understand. I put my hands on her shoulders, looked her straight in the eyes. “I was going to kill my boss.”
    At that moment, I realized I had misunderstood, as my hands slowly crept their way up Angela’s neck and squeezed.

Trigger
    Leah Givens
    Showtime. Ray’s fingers tingled at the controls. First time shooting fireworks at this field. And it couldn’t come soon enough. He stood, grabbed the cold metal doorknob of the booth and pulled to let in the freezing night. How many times had he ignited the new year with the flick of a switch? Close to twenty years, as though his father had beaten it into him. Never here, though, the perfect location, a plateau of land that dropped off to yield an open sky. Just the nine o’clock kiddie show, and still his skin itched to get started. He reached fingernails down to scratch underneath his T-shirt, his hand running over a hilly landscape of belt-buckle scars.
    Snow and blankets patchworked the field. Hundreds of people must be here, probably half the town. The proposal to raze Pine Hill Wild Bird Conservatory had promised a good show, plus plenty of other uses for a tree-free place. Enough to stomp down protests from environmentalists that the old forest held something sacred: if not the birds, then the Indian burial grounds beneath. Eagles that had nested there for ages could move on, officials argued, and old Indian myths held no meaning nowadays. A clearcutting began, one that wouldn’t quite satisfy either side. I guess this compromise works best; a small empty field, and a half-ring of woods left behind.
    One last glance at his watch. Ray shut the door and sat down again. Through the booth he heard the crowd’s countdown: “Three, two, one…” Adrenaline buzzed his fingertips as he flipped the red switch.
    Why am I so excited? I could describe the whole sequence from memory. Ray focused on the small booth window. Sure enough, the intro blast—a pink burst like a rose with green streaks as foliage. The booth’s walls hummed with cheers and claps. Ah. He settled in the chair to watch, chuckling at himself. Same show every year, but the kid in me always wants to see the lights.
    Next up, the ice-blue spider design. Ray’s eyes anticipated familiar sparks of color in the darkness. Wait, what? A low, fuming boom jolted him to standing. Oh, crap, this isn’t supposed to… His hands floundered for the phone on the wall while his eyes held to the sky. A tiny ball of light exploded into limitless brightness; the view through his window transformed from black to entirely white.
    What on Earth? The shock stopped him in place. From the center of his vision sprung a mass of birds, large as eagles yet feathered white all over. They all flew outwards, blazing across the sky, wings loud in unsynchronized flapping. Silence fell as they disappeared. Moments later, the brightness departed too. Night ruled again through his window, and the darkness looked blacker than ever.
    Ray reached for the doorknob as if by instinct. This is my show; I’m responsible. Amidst the rush of his mind, he could hear a mix of yells and cries outside. What am I going to tell them? It might help if I knew. He opened the booth’s door; cold air swirled in and around him. With the wind he felt the presence of his father alight on his shoulders, like a coat—only this coat chilled him more than the winter night. He shivered, then exaggerated the movement, as if trying to shake off the heaviness, an