In 2020, Haunted MTL brought you the 13 Days of Krampus. Now we offer another exclusive series of holiday horror stories: The Twelve Nightmares of the Holidays. It’s day 8 of 12 Nightmares of the Holidays. If you missed it, check out the others so far: here for Jen’s, here for Nicole’s and here for Phil’s. Enjoy.

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Once upon a time in a faraway land, there was a kingdom ruled by a king and a queen. There wasn’t a single person in their community that had a bad thing to say about the royal couple. There wasn’t a single person without a meal on their table or without a warm home. Their life ran like clockwork, everyone existing together in perfect harmony. 

Well, except for one thing. 

Every year, as the leaves fell and withered, followed by snow burying the ground underneath its embrace, without fail the queen would retreat inside the castle, assisted only by her most loyal servants. Only very few had witnessed her during those times and they had all said the same thing – that she looked like death itself wanted to wrap its arms around her and never let go. 

In what could only be described as the search for hope in dark times, the king would host a Winterfest ball. No expense was spared; the best quality meats, fruits, and custom baked cakes; the grandest decorations of sparkly garlands and wreaths made out of fresh pine branches. There were even presents for the townsfolk under a giant tree in the corner of the ballroom, the biggest ones for the children. Orchestra would play music for people to dance to through the night. For most, it would be the most looked-forward-to event of the year, despite the unfortunate circumstance. 

Yet for some, it would not turn out so great. 

The king himself hosted a lottery during the ball for girls eighteen years of age and below with a grand prize of spending the night in the best suite in the palace. As one would expect, the girls of the kingdom were delighted to have a chance to feel like a princess, even if just for one night. To make it fair, the king settled for the simple method of writing all their names and putting them in a box. Whoever’s name was picked out would be the winner. The girl would be given a crown and a cape as well as the key to the suite. 

However, the girls would never return home. 

No one dared to say anything. After all, it would always be the depth of winter. The snow, the wind, the treacherous paths from the castle back to the town – it would be easy, even likely for the girls to get lost on the way home. No rulers would ever hurt their own loyal subjects, and if anyone ever dared to suggest such a thing, the punishment would be severe. 

In the darkest corners of their homes, whispers would still be shared. Things that should not have been possible, and yet it was right in front of their eyes. Shortly after every Winterfest, the queen would emerge from her chambers, looking more radiant than ever. At first, it had seemed like a miracle, and then each year it would only raise questions that there would not be an answer for. 

For how it seemed that despite the king’s face etching with wrinkles and his hair turning the color of ash, the queen remained untouched by the passage of time. Or one should say time would catch up with her at the first fall of snow and she would escape its grasp. 

Or how a few have said they heard what sounded like screams coming from the castle on the night of Winterfest. But even they would shake their heads as if punishing themselves for the thought. It must have been the wind howling. 

No king would ever harm their loyal subject.