The Carolers: A Short Creepypasta by Mike Allan
They're outside singing carols again. Always with the carols. I suppose some would find their voices lovely, but I don't. The sound grates on my ears and reverberates over my entire body. I have visions of a giant metallic cheese shredder being rubbed over my precious grey matter.
God, will they not shut up?!
I am so tempted to go out there and kill them all, but that would only provide a temporary relief.
Besides, that's what got me here in the first place.