Indeterminacy 415 (The Night of Christmas)

It was dark. The creature of the night lurked among the shadows cloaking the village. One word permeated every nuance of thought. Blood! BLOOD! He must have blood. But the empty streets yielded no opportunity of fulfillment, no chance encounter to satisfy his hunger. How long had he been this way? Weeks? Months? A hundred years? His thoughts no longer retained the proper order to reflect upon these unclarities. But a feeble awareness seeped into the sea of crimson that was his single obsession. Christmas. Yes. Christmas. That is why the streets were deserted, why the hunt remained fruitless. Everyone was indoors, huddled with friends and family around a warm fire, or a table with candles and a feast, communing with one another, sharing remembrances with one another. Christmas. That was so long ago…

He continued creeping along, the blood lapping anew into his thoughts. With his acute sense of audition he perceived voices in song, a choir, a congregation of a church, no doubt. He turned towards the origin of the sound, and began to move closer. He passed as a shadow through a graveyard, some of the stones marking the final resting place of those whose blood he had taken. Of this he was scarcely aware. The church stood hulled in the thick tar of night. As he approached, it loomed ominously before him, surreal in its proportions. But he did not shy away. Where there is song, there is also blood. BLOOD! He stood before the massive door, pulling it open just a crack. He could not cross into the consecrated bounds of this sacramental location. But he waited, eyes turned downward, and listened. An organ toned the notes of a new melody, drawing a multitude of voices together into a sincere and unpresuming unison: “Silent night, holy night….” the peaceful words flowed to where he stood, and for one moment he forgot the blood.

Indeterminacy 415 (The Night of Christmas)


Joined January 2008

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Artist's Description

This story was originally posted at, a site featuring “one minute short stories” inspired by found photos.

Here is the found photo which served as the catalyst for the story:

This photo was kindly donated to the Indeterminacy Project by Michael Spry ( and

Artwork Comments

  • Damian
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