Slap. Slap. Those consecutive sounds were the most unsettling sounds Lin Sanjiu had ever heard in her life. She was filled with such dread that she could feel her stomach churning. If she wanted, she could vomit on command. The mixture of nervousness, anger, and helplessness had vanished without a trace. Her face was pale and covered with cold sweat.
Even though Santa Claus was sitting on a chair, he was so huge that he was like a small mountain. His white beard had been dyed pink due to the bits of blood in it. It shifted upward as if he was smiling. As he raised his hand and hit his own thighs, that slapping sound rang out again.
"Come, sit here and make a wish." When Santa Claus smiled, his hook-like eyes arched so much that it was mind-numbingly creepy. The gaping hole behind his beard was faintly discernable, "Hoho. Quick."
