"The Torture of Nikols", by Andrew R.

Journal Entry No. 34

December the 24^th, 1692

I am not a religious man. Forgive me if I offend, but I have seen all there is to see during my time on this world, and I now understand the true cruelty that can be instilled upon a single being. I wish to recount the tale of my brother, Nikols, so as to enlighten the public to the reality of our world. Once again, forgive me if this offends or disturbs, but I feel it my duty to tell it to you as he wrote to me on that dreadful winter night:

“I cannot stay long, dear brother, they wait for my return. But I must tell you the truth of my disappearance. I suffer a fate far worse than that of Atlas or Tantalus. I would rather have an eagle rip my innards out each night, as Prometheus has done upon him, than to suffer the pains that I must endure for the rest of eternity. I was kidnapped, dear brother, and given an elixir that, I believe, impedes the work of time. Each day, I am bound in chains and hobbled so that I cannot run away. I am forced to create tools of torture for my captors, and am only given a minute’s rest to drink appalling milk from the creatures’ animal pets and stale crackers that taste of vomit and refuse. They force me to wear a bloodied coat (presumably from their last captive) that is far too big, so they stuff my face with raw meat at the end of each day and whisper, “Fatten you up”. Each night, I am thrown into an icy cave, and expected to sleep, though my eyes cannot rest a second as I can hear my tormentors whispering in an unknown language. My tormentors never show their faces, as they wear dark pointed hoods that cover their entire bodies, all except for their teeth, which are pointed and layered, like that of a shark. I do not believe these creatures to be human; they are much smaller in stature, though I assure you they are quite terrifying, capable of inflicting immense pain, both physical and emotional. I repeat this schedule three hundred and sixty four times. Each day I think the relief of death will present itself to me, but each day my body continues living. After the cycle of three hundred and sixty four, the schedule changes. I am no longer a worker, I am now a transmitter, a means for which these creatures to send their inhumane weaponry to unsuspecting men, women, and children. I break into their homes and leave one of the creatures’ torture devices. I cannot be sure, but I believe that they have a plan to influence the young minds of the world, and, inevitably, bring torture, cruelty, and grotesque acts of violence to all who inhabit the Earth. And I, their unwilling captive, must comply out of fear. So I am sorry brother. I am sorry for what is to come. It was never my intention, but these creatures only target esteemed individuals with the ability to love. Perhaps it was when the people of our town began calling me Saint Nicholas, that my fate was sealed. I can hear my captors calling for me now. Please forgive me. I must be off.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night…

Santa Claus