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.