On a cold winter night you're driving through unfamiliar neighborhoods to view Christmas lights and decorations.

One yard contains dozens of figures, snowmen, elves, and reindeer,

but on the roof is a massive white fur-covered creature in a black robe and hood.

Sharp horns stick out from its head.

The beast leaps from the roof, fire spraying out of its

nostrils, it charges towards your car. You need my help. This is a voice from darkness. Hello, this is Dr Malcolm Ryder, parypsychologist. I hope you're all having a lovely holiday season.

Now, normally I'd tell you I'm here to help you with all your supernatural, paranormal, and otherworldly problems.

And this is still true in spirit, but I'm afraid tonight I'm hosting a Christmas party, so

there will not be a call-in segment.

In fact, all we're having tonight is a Christmas ghost story.

Or perhaps not quite a ghost story, but the sort of story of otherworldly interaction that is more common

this time of year.

The writer family is famous for its Christmas parties. Family and friends travel from all over

Chicago to attend our yearly get-together. My oft mentioned grandfather Duncan started the tradition and every year he'd insist on telling a Christmas ghost story to all those present.

In fact, he claimed the reason why so many went out of their way to attend the Rider Family Christmas

party was because of his stories.

Now, I don't know about that.

I believe my grandmother's rum cakes had more to do with the party's popularity, but

Grandfather Duncan's Christmas stories were certainly a fixture.

And Amelia and I have kept the tradition alive. I mean that we still throw the party and we still tell stories.

Often we re-tell some of our grandfather's best Christmas tales.

This year it's my turn to tell a story,

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