[ WP ] Write a story that starts like a Christmas tale but slowly becomes a Cosmic Horror story .

I was the night before Christmas. Herman ’ s Mother, yellow ribbons in her hair, tucked her little boy into his warm bed, kissed him on his fat red cheek and told him “ Remember, good little boys who want presents go to sleep or they ’ re disappointed in the morning ” 
 
 “ But Mum, I ’ m so excited, how am I to sleep? ” said the child. 
 
 His mother being the sweet and kind sort, smiled gently “ How about a story? A Yuletide fable? I know just the one! The one I call the Carols of Carcosa. ” Hermans mother began his story with music, dancing and a King all in yellow, but too soon was Herman asleep, dreams took him under, in a gentle release. 
 
 Herman awoke to early he realised it was still dark. “ It must be hours till morning ”, he thought to himself. So Herman ever so quiet picked up his coat, and he stole down the stairs quiet as a hare. Out through the door into the snow he went, he looked around checking for adults who might spoil his fun. But no one was there except an old snowman with a worn woolen hat and scarf so full of holes it was seemingly held together more with hope than thread. 
 
 The snowman waved a branchy arm “ Hey Kid! ” he cried. Hermans short life had not prepared him for a talking snowman, so Herman did what came naturally; he ran away. Herman ran fast, the snowman seemingly nimble despite his ungainly frame, pursued close behind. Herman losing ground sought an edge, ducked into an alleyway then hopped a fence then another hoping to confuse his stalker and loose him amongst the neighbours ’ gardens. 
 
 Herman stopped running, he could no longer hear the snowmans shouting. Perhaps he was safe, he took in his surroundings the building were strange here, he must have run further than he thought he realised. Worried now, Herman began to wander between the strange tall houses and narrow streets he now found himself within. As Herman wandered he caught snippets of music, of bells and of song. “ Carolers ”, thought Herman to himself, “ they ’ ll be able to see me home ”. Following the sounds as best he could soon the song began to clear. He caught glimpses of a melody eldrich to his ear of lyrics with gibbous meaning his mind reeled to peirce. Then a lantern he saw and three figures in a door, Herman took to move but was pulled to the floor; a fist made of snow began to cut of his air, his face did turn red as the song filled his ear, then darkness was all there was. 
 
 Again Herman woke this time with a start, coughing cold water from his throat. He saw the snowman, sitting across from him looking through tarmac eyes. 
 
 “ It ’ s ok kid, just calm down. I never meant to startle you. It ’ s just you were running into bad news, thats all ok ”. the snowman stated in no uncertain terms. 
 
 “ What is this place, who were those singers? ” Asked Herman 
 
 “ Nasty pieces of work, but not half as bad as the witch. She's the real danger round here. ” 
 
 “ A witch? really I did n't think they existed ” 
 
 “ I bet you didn ’ t think talking snowmen existed either, well theres a witch alright and she ’ ll turn you to stone or a frog or even into snow ” 
 
 “ Is that what happened to you? ” 
 
 “ She lures you in with promises of comfort and pleasure ” 
 
 “ Like chocolate? ” 
 
 “ Sure kid. Anyway I think I can get you home from here. Lets go ” The snowman lead Herman through the strange snowy streets back to his road, to his house where he hoped his mother did still sleep. 
 
 “ One last thing kid - you sure you ain ’ t seen no wichy broad round here? I only get one chance a year at this. ” The snowman looked at Herman as if scrutinising his honesty, when Herman shook his head, the Snowman simply shrugged then walked away. 
 
 Herman opened his front door, inside his mother sat upon the stairs. 
 
 “ I see you met your father ” she said, before turning and heading back off to bed.
