Release Day Party

Release Day Party Creepy Christmas

We’re hosting a release day party for “Creepy Christmas”, a MG fiction book by author Jaimie Admans. You can get the book for free for a limited time from Amazon (from November 15th to November 17th) so get it while you can!

About Creepy Christmas

Title: Creepy Christmas
Author: Jaimie Admans
Genre: MG Fiction

“Strange things are occurring in the neighbourhood. A mysterious snowfall, one Santa too many, and eyes of coal that watch you wherever you go.

Ten-year-old Kaity is busy trying to get rid of her mum’s creepy new boyfriend and reunite her divorced parents, but her curiosity gets the better of her when she meets the new mall Santa and his enchanting daughter Blizzard. Can Kaity help them save Christmas from being destroyed by Anti-Claus – a pretend Santa who is a permanent member of the naughty list?

It’s Christmas in the village of Chelferry, but this year the snowmen can move, the fairy won’t stay on top of the Christmas tree, and if you listen closely to the musical Christmas cards, you can hear the faint sound of screaming over the Jingle Bells…

Creepy Christmas is a 50,000 word (approx 200 pages) novel suitable for ages 8 and upwards.”

Read an Excerpt

The next morning we wake up to white. The world that is. Unexpected snowfall has hit Chelferry, and it’s incredible. It’s a Sunday so we don’t get a day off school – we don’t get snow very often around here, maybe once a year, and the whole town literally stops still until it melts. School closes, public transport stops, and shops close, either because the staff can’t get in or because they realise that even if they did open they would have no customers. My little sister Pippa is bouncing on my bed at six o’clock in the morning, and for a minute I think I’ve lost the past four weeks and it’s Christmas Day already. Then I realise that she’s squealing about snow and it’s so dark outside that I don’t even know how she can see the snow, let alone get excited about it, but she does. I get out of bed and pad over to the window with her just to get her to be quiet so as not to wake Mum and Dad, and when I—

Wait… It’s Mum and Seth now. Not Dad. How can I still forget even after all these months that Dad’s not here anymore? How can I forget that on the real Christmas morning, when Pippa goes careening into Mum’s room and bounces on their bed, that Dad isn’t going to be there? I wonder about Dad. How does he feel knowing that his daughters are going to be waking someone else up on Christmas morning? Well, okay, probably relieved given our tendency to wake up in the early hours at Christmas, but still. The thoughts suddenly make the snow less appealing. “I’m going back to bed for a couple of hours, Pips,” I say sadly. “You should too, it’s early.”

She shuffles out of my room like she can sense the change in my mood, and I can’t help but wonder what she really feels about all of this. I’m finding it so hard to adjust and I’m five years older than Pippa. Either she’s too little to really understand what’s going on with our parents’ divorce, or she’s much more mature than we give her credit for and she’s handling everything much better than I am.

I smile at the thought of her and snow. An overnight snowfall is almost as exciting as Christmas for Pips as she’s only just old enough to understand that snow means school closure and playing outside for hours on end and losing feeling in your extremities.

I stay in bed but end up tossing and turning for a couple more hours. Just as it starts getting light, I decide to take Harry for his morning walk early, before every kid in the neighbourhood is outside having a snowball fight. Harry doesn’t particularly like kids or snow, so he can be a bit of a handful if the two are mixed. Mum and Seth aren’t up yet, and I can’t hear any signs of Pippa so I guess she went back to sleep too. Dad always used to be up early. It was always a rare occasion to come downstairs to an empty house, even on a Sunday. Dad would always be here because he said his body clock was used to getting up early for work. I never realised how much I liked coming downstairs to see Dad sitting at the kitchen table reading his newspaper.

I sigh and try to shake myself out of these thoughts. I’m far too melancholy today. I grab my warmest coat, the one that makes me look like the Michelin man, attach Harry’s lead and walk out into the snow.

I’m surprised to see the street totally deserted. I stand on our front step and survey up and down the road, and there isn’t a sign of anyone about. Okay, it is still early and it is a Sunday, but I’m surprised not to see any kids out here yet. Oh well, all the more space for me. I pull my wellies up and jump off our front step, landing knee deep in a snowdrift.

The snow looks so beautiful as I shuffle down to the end of our driveway and let myself out the gate. Virgin snow with no sign of a footprint makes the picturesque street look like a Christmas card.

That’s when I notice the snowmen.

How strange. I guess I’m not that early after all as evidently half the neighbourhood has been outside building snowmen already. Every house, in every garden, there’s an almost identical looking snowman. Almost the same in size, with the same tree branch arms, coal buttons, coal eyes, and carrots for noses.

There is even one in our garden, which is a bit of a cheek if you ask me, as I’m sure Pippa would have loved to build one, but someone’s already done it.

Odd though that there are no footprints. Anywhere. I mean, I’m the first person making footprints this morning, and yet there are snowmen in almost every garden, so obviously people have been out and playing in the snow and probably just popped back in for breakfast. So why no footprints? I try to puzzle it out as I drag Harry off down the street, just to nip around the block so he can do his business and then go back. I love the snow but it is cold this morning.

I try to glance into some of the houses, but they all look dark still, like the occupants are still sleeping with their curtains and blinds closed.

And then I want to physically smack myself in the head for being so stupid. Obviously the reason that there aren’t any footprints is because we’ve had another snowfall since everybody came out. Fresh snow has obviously covered up all the previous tracks in the snow. Epic facepalm. Although I wasn’t really sleeping since Pippa woke me up, I was just lying there thinking, so I’m quite surprised I didn’t hear the kids yelling and shouting and playing in the snow. But that’s beside the point. Every house has a snowman. I can’t believe all these people were out here making snowmen and I didn’t hear a thing.

I look at the snowmen as I pass and suddenly I get a chill up my spine. All of a sudden I feel very alone and small in the world, and I can’t help but speed up a little in my walking. I’m not far from the house and getting back there suddenly feels like it would be a very good thing so I hurry Harry along.

I can feel their creepy coal eyes staring at me. I know it’s my imagination but I feel like the eyes follow me as I pass them. They’re all so eerily similar to look at. Almost military and uniform in their build, and I briefly wonder if maybe the families who built them all discussed how their snowmen would look and synchronized them. And how did they all manage to do that before eight in the morning and without me hearing?

I speed up so much that I am almost running, not wanting to be out here on my own anymore. I turn the corner into our street again, not surprised to find it still completely empty bar the snowmen. I don’t want to look behind me, I’m too scared, and where did that fear come from? I feel that if I look back I will find twenty pairs of snowmen eyes staring at me, even though I know that’s not possible. Maybe this divorce is affecting me more than I thought. I’m clearly losing my marbles if I think snowmen are watching me.

I’m bright red and panting as I race up to our house, dragging Harry behind me and still refusing to look back. I fall in the door and slam it hard behind me.

“What’s up with you?” Mum is on her way down the stairs, yawning and rubbing her eyes tiredly.

“Mum, there are snowmen everywhere. In every house.”

“Well, the neighbours must’ve been busy.”

“No, you don’t get it. There’s a snowman in every garden. Even ours. And we didn’t build it.”

“Well, isn’t that nice, Kaity? Obviously one of the neighbours has been round and done it overnight.”

“I don’t know…”

“What a nice way to spread Christmas cheer. I wonder who it was?”

“I don’t think—”

“Pips! Kaity says there’s a snowman, do you want to come and see?”

“Yaaaaay,” Pippa runs out of the kitchen shouting.

I ignore her and shuffle up to my bedroom. I sit on the windowseat and watch Pippa in the front garden talking to the snowman, and Mum yelling at her to come back and get her coat on.

I guess Mum is right. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. Obviously someone has come round and built a snowman in every garden during the night. It actually is quite a nice way to spread Christmas cheer. And I suppose that if the same person has built them it would explain why they all look the same.

I don’t know why they creeped me out. I guess I’m just reading too much into what is quite clearly a simple explanation.

I glance out the window at them all again, lined up perfectly in each garden, and I can’t help the eerie feeling that creeps down my spine.

Author Bio

Jaimie is a 27-year-old English-sounding Welsh girl with an awkward-to-spell name. She lives in South Wales and enjoys writing, gardening, drinking tea and watching horror movies.

She hates spiders and cheese & onion crisps.

She has been writing for years, but has never before plucked up the courage to tell people. Creepy Christmas is her second novel and she hopes you like it!


Website | Twitter | Facebook

Creepy Christmas on Amazon UK | Creepy Christmas on Amazon US

Get the Book for Free!

You can get Creepy Christmas for free from Amazon for a limited time – November 15th, 16th and 17th. Go get your free copy while you still can!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *