Here’s a haunting holiday tale so terrifying, this fearful father will never tell his son about what really happened that night.
“It was Christmas Eve, and my boy was three, almost four. My wife and our seven-year-old daughter were out looking at lights, but my son and I stayed home because I don’t like crowds, and he doesn’t like the cold. So we’re just sitting there in the living room, watching the some Christmas movie, when someone starts pounding on the front door. I got to open it, and when I do, I’m staring down the barrel of a loaded weapon being held by a guy in dark red trench coat. He’s obviously on some sort of substances or something. Whatever was wrong with him, there was this crazy look in his eyes. He says ‘Let me in, I just want your stuff, no one has to get hurt,’ and then he lets himself in, keeping the loaded weapon on me.
My mind’s racing, because if he at all hurts my son, I’m going to jail for viciously and maliciously murdering a man. So he walks me into the kitchen and starts looking around for valuables. Then I hear my son walk towards us, and I’m panicking and tensing. I had no idea what to do. My son walks in and sees me with this guy and asks, in the most innocent voice, ‘Santa?’
I look over to the burglar. There’s something going through his mind. He goes, ‘Yep, it’s me Santa. I’m just here to talk to your daddy about how good you’ve been this year. Now you go back. I want to talk to him so your surprise doesn’t get ruined.’
My son looks at me and I tell him to go, so he does. Once he’s back in the living room, the bur turns to me and says, ‘I didn’t know you had kids, I’m sorry,’ and then just throws himself out the door. I call the cops, and my wife and daughter comes home. It’s a big debacle. The entire time, my boy is telling the cops, the paramedics, my wife, and his sister, ‘I got to meet Santa!’ He’s almost seven now, and he has no idea we were almost robbed. No idea when I’m going to tell him.”