Beetlejuice Christmas Tree

I grasped in horror as l saw my hands turning into claws. Alot of hair also forming on every part of my body. I touched myself to feel that l nolonger have two legs but four. My hands had also formed into legs. Panick invaded me.l don't want to become anything else. I regretted not taking my mum's advice of not coming near the woods. May be if l had stayed home obediently this wouldn't have happened. I felt my new body move on its own until l reached at the river. The water sat there silently and in there l saw what l have become.A beast.l saw a lone tear coming from my glowing eyes. I got away from the river sat down the tree nearby. My body returned ito its human form. I cried and screamed loudly; No am not a beast. Am human: Am not a beast. This isn't me! I screamed. It's you Daciana. It's what you really are. A voice came from from behind the tree.

Lisha is a young woman trapped in a marriage arranged by her father, Mr Wellis, who views her union as a business transaction rather than an act of love. Despite pleading not to marry, her wishes are ignored. On her wedding day, Lisha runs away in search of freedom and falls in love with Dave, a bakery owner and the son of her family’s maid. Although they come from different social backgrounds, their love grows strong, and Lisha sacrifices her wealth to marry him. However, on the night of the wedding, Lisha makes a blood oath under a sacred tree believed to grant desires of the flesh. Instead of bringing happiness, the oath becomes her downfall, trapping her in spiritual bondage. As her marriage begins to suffocate her, Lisha once again longs for freedom. She seeks help from a spiritual healer, who warns her that the oath cannot be undone. Desperate to escape the marriage and the curse, Lisha considers killing Dave as the only way to break free. Dave eventually finds out about Lisha’s plan. This leads him to strike before Lisha stokes him. Both husband and wife plot death against each other however will this bring doom to their marriage or will they choose to rekindle their love?

The adopted younger sister claimed to be suffering from depression. To make her feel better, my parents hung me on the cliff, as if I were a kite. Servant reminded my parents that the little tree to which I was hung was fragile, leaving me in danger. My mom, Luna of the pack, replied scoffingly: "She makes Laurel sleep panic. She deserves to be treated like this. If she dies, it's her fate." My older brother, Zayn, joked by her side, saying: "It's a good chance to record how long werewolves live when they do not conduct feeding activities. We can contribute a lot to the Werewolf Council with this precious data." Even my mate, Greyson, showed an attitude of stoniness, uttering: "She is a vicious she-wolf. If she were not educated well enough before her transformation ritual, she would cause greater trouble to others." They left me alone on the cliff after saying these words. Three days later, it finally crossed their minds that I was still hanging. When they finally arrived at the cliff, they found nothing but emptiness—because I had already died long before. And when they realized the truth, they howled in agony, begging for me to come back to life. But I was long gone.

During Christmas break, my boyfriend, Trevor Hayes, asks me to stop by and feed the dog that his childhood friend, Evelyn Summers, keeps at her place. I bring a bag of kibble over. But the second I open the door, a huge pit bull lunges at me and bites into my face and arms. Luckily, a neighbor hears me screaming and pulls me out of its jaws, but the damage is already done. The scars will stay with me forever. I break down, but Trevor blames me instead. "You must've done something wrong when you fed Mojo and set him off. You just got a scar, but Mojo's dead!" The weight of it all crushes me until I climb a rooftop and jump. After dying, I see Trevor holding Evelyn in his arms. "Honey, you're so clever. Starving Mojo for a few days really worked. Now, she's dead. We can finally be together." When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day Trevor asks me to go feed that dog.

Even before marrying Wayne Cooper, I knew he had a fierce sister-in-law. He would always tell me to never get into a fight with her. After we marry, we spend Christmas Eve at his parents' house for the first time. I'm forced to bustle around in the kitchen as I prepare a feast for over a dozen people. Meanwhile, Wayne's family lounges in the living room. They chatter away while enjoying the fruits I've washed and sliced. As I place the last dish on the table, Wayne's brother and sister-in-law, Kyle Cooper and Lucy Wren, arrive. When I want to take my seat, I discover there isn't one for me. That's when Lucy snorts and says sarcastically, "I heard you're a good wife who's obedient and easygoing, Melanie. I have to say that your cooking is… mediocre, though." This infuriates me. I'm about to retort when she turns to my mother-in-law. She says, "I think you should do the cooking from now on, Gloria. Your food is delicious…"

On Christmas Eve, my six-year-old, Yule, was dying from cancer, and all he wanted was a gift from his dad dressed as Santa. I called Peter, my husband, begging him to come. His reply? "Can you stop blowing up my phone? I don't have time for this! I'm helping Tracey find Puffy. Do you know how upset she is?" Oh, Tracey. His first love. And Puffy? Her dog. I told him Yule might not make it through the night. His response? A straight-up dagger: "Don't act like this isn't your fault, Freya. If Yule hadn't kicked Puffy, none of this would've happened. Tomorrow, make sure he apologizes to Tracey." Then he hung up. That night, I sat with Yule, crying as I helped him celebrate his last Christmas. By morning, Peter's social medias were still full of posts about that freaking dog. Mine? Yule's obituary. Ten years of marriage, gone.

On the day before the Christmas holidays start, my wife, Irene Owens, intends to promote me and give me a raise in order to celebrate my feat of closing a hundred-million-dollar deal. But her assistant, Cody Harrington, purposefully feeds her some cake. Irene, who's known to be a germaphobe, doesn't show any trace of disgust as she subconsciously accepts the spoon, which is tainted with Cody's saliva, into her mouth. The employees begin cheering for them on the spot. Some ask if they are about to get married. Not only does Irene not refute those questions, but she also promotes Cody to a department manager on the spot. When a colleague next to me realizes how silent I've been, he nudges me in the side. "Hey Seb, you're the veteran employee who's stuck by Ms. Owens' side for so long. Why aren't you reacting to the news?" I merely sneer as I toss my share transfer agreement to Cody. "A promotion isn't enough, is it? You can have these shares as your wedding gift."

One scorching night was all it took for the ruthless billionaire…Damien Voss to haunt Isabella Barnes' dreams. He took her body, shattered her trust, and vanished, leaving her with scars deeper than the secret she buried alone. Now, on a Christmas getaway meant to heal her, Isabella wakes in chains. Her captor? The same man who ruined her. Damien mistakes her for the daughter of his sworn rival and vows to break her as leverage in his brutal corporate war. But as days bleed into nights of dark pleasure and forbidden surrender, the truth unravels: he's been hunting those unforgettable eyes ever since that fateful night. And he has no intention of letting her go. Trapped in his luxurious prison, Isabella fights the pull of his possessive touch. But still, anger and pain burns in her veins... until his obsession awakens something twisted and intoxicating in her own soul. Once he claims her, escape isn't an option…she might not even want it. In a world of betrayal, deadly rivals, and unrelenting passion, will she shatter her captor when she discovers that he’s the same man that has haunted her dreams for years...or become his forever?

We're releasing balloons on Christmas Eve when Milton Jenning's lover deliberately sets off fireworks. They explode on me, burning me severely. My back, already torn and raw from skin grafts for her, becomes even more of a bloodied mess. However, I don't ask Milton for help. Instead, I shield a recently reunited heir of a wealthy family beneath me, risking everything to save him. In my past life, Milton kicked me in the back and told me not to stand in the way of him taking his lover to the hospital. "Is it funny to you to use a child as a cover, Larissa? Even if you're pregnant, you and your baby are just walking skin providers for Rita! I must've spoiled you—how dare you do something as heinous as this!" I was blacklisted by all hospitals and ended up dying while pregnant. My heart was filled with hatred as I breathed my last breath. When I open my eyes again, I see Rita Atkinson secretly aim fireworks at the night sky and set them off. I hear her laugh manically as she says, "You and your child can die together!"

After my rebirth, I avoided my family and my boyfriend like the plague. When they tried to throw me a birthday party, I faked an urgent business trip to dodge it. When my parents pleaded with me to move back, I secretly bought my own house that very night. When my boyfriend popped the question, I spun on my heel and married someone else. In my previous life, my sister and I were swept away in a raging flood. By sheer luck, a jagged tree branch snagged my clothes, saving me from the depths, but my sister drowned in the merciless current. My parents, consumed by grief and rage, gripped my throat and screamed, "If it weren't for you, Andrea would still be alive!" My boyfriend acted like it was no big deal, offering half-hearted comfort before we tied the knot. But on our wedding anniversary, during a family cruise, they cornered me on the deck and shoved me overboard. "Time to taste drowning yourself!" they hissed. It turned out they had never gotten over Andrea's death. My boyfriend had never forgotten about her. When my eyes fluttered open again, I found myself back on that fateful day. This time, I vowed to live for myself, reclaiming the joy they'd stolen from me.