"All hail the pretty lights!" the children chanted in unison, or rather sang in a slow and sickly melody that would drive the most hardened occultist to madness. The flashing of the Christmas lights grew faster and faster, and with it their hymn to the bright and enchanting colors of the season. The children joined hands around the tree and spun counterclockwise, their ghastly carol becoming a deafening crescendo that Roni couldn't stomach.
"STOP!!!" she roared at the top of her lungs. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP YOU LITTLE BRATS! SHUT THE FUCK UP!" And she rose the axe with which she had planned to cut down a tree for Christmas.
Officer Wilson let out a gasp when he opened the door to Roni Starr's apartment. Nothing he'd seen in all his years as a police officer could have prepared him for this. Roni was on the floor, muttering to herself, "Pretty lights pretty lights pretty lights..." That wasn't the shocking part. The shocking part was that there was no star atop the tree, but rather an angel...
The head of 9-year-old Angelica Freeman.