Chainsaw Man Christmas Novels & Stories

Nicholas “Merry Christmas!” shouted a smiling street performer, handing out small candy canes. “No, thank you,” Nicholas Kerstman said, shaking his head as he walked past. “But it's Christmas time! Take one,” the performer urged. “Embrace the season.” Nicholas sighed. Why did Christmas have to come every year? “Sure. Why not?” Nicholas said with a shrug as he took the candy cane into his hand. When he thought the street performer couldn't see him, he threw the candy cane into the nearest trashcan.

His little sister Carol was looking forward to seeing Santa Clause. Eddie went into the woods and cut a cedar tree for a Christmas Tree. Coral was excited Santa was coming soon. Eddie helped Coral decorate the tree. Paper was cut and Mama made glue out of flour and water. The paper was glued together to make interlocking rings. The strand of rings was placed around the Christmas Tree like garland. Eddie helped her cut paper and make snowflakes for the ornaments. It was a simple tree with no lights. In the eyes of Carol, it was the perfect Christmas Tree. Eddie went hunting on the Christmas Eve and killed a deer for Christmas Dinner. Carol cried because he teased her and said it was Rudolph t

“It is Christmas.” I stared at her in horror. “I have been smiling. Internally.” “No, you have been glaring at everything with open hostility.” “That is how I smile.” Her sigh sounded like the end of hope itself. “Just hang these.” I took the basket, grudgingly, and stalked toward the main hallway. Wolves hustled past carrying giant wreaths that could double as shields. Someone shouted for more ribbon. Someone else shouted for less ribbon. A pup ran by dragging a tangle of lights that looked like it had eaten three smaller strings and gained sentience.

A group of kids running down the sidewalk in puffy coats, laughing, dragging a sled behind them and a man in a Santa hat handing out candy canes outside a corner store. It was Christmas Eve. And I was driving home to a broken door, a silent sister, a missing best friend, and the memory of kissing my therapist like a desperate fucking idiot. A soft sob tore out of me. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a moment in my life that I had felt more pathetic than I felt at the moment.

Cyrus was right, if I had goals. “Can you use magic to help?” Jane offered. “I can imagine a good grade.” Suddenly, the daunting task seemed attainable. “Esmerelda!” Cyrus and Ghost exclaimed. “What does the pack do for Christmas?” I winked at Jane. She understood my tactic. “Christmas?” “Isn’t it next week?” “I suppose it is.” “Can I invite Uncle Harris?” “Maybe we can celebrate at the bar.” Cyrus deflected. “I need to look forward to something joyous.”

Victor hopped around, tiptoeing as he shouted, "Grace, I'll kill you!" Grace laughed and ran back to her room, throwing herself onto the bed and calling Xander. It rang for a while before he answered, his voice husky with waking up, "Gracie." "You haven't gotten up yet?" "Mm." His voice sounded muffled. Grace couldn't help but feel a surge of affection. "Today's Christmas Eve, aren't you bothered by the excitement? It's chaos here." Xander became a bit more awake. Summitview Manor was always quiet year-round. Even with two more family members, it remained so. Compared to the bustle where Grace was, his place seemed somewhat eerie.

Cole nudged him and said, “Come on, Uncle. It’s my wife’s first Christmas with us.” He relented, and not more than a few minutes later I had three Bianchi men in matching red sweaters with white reindeers on them. I bought cute white sweaters with green Christmas trees on them for me and Mrs Bianchi and the twins. We took family pictures and a few with just two of us.

Her big smile lit up her face as each syllable reverberated, and she and Cassandra sang along to the music : “You're my wish list Lookin' at you got me thinking Christmas Snowflakes in my stomach when we're kissin' And when you're comin' down the chimney, ooh, it feels so good I need that Charles Dickens You'll be Santa Claus and I'll be Mrs. I'll take you for a ride, I'll be your vixen I don't even know, I'm talkin' Christmas I'm talkin', I'm talkin' (ah) Caught up in the loveliness of the music, she lost herself to the dance, her movements completely in sync with the jubilant tempo of the song.

—Ricardo was startled by his father's statement and must have understood that I had premeditated that night. ― I had said that I regretted dying without having the joy of seeing a grandchild born and Manuela revealed that she dreamed of having a child with Ricardo. That's why we made our requests to the Universe and it sent us more than two miracles, but three. My health and my two grandchildren. And now I want to make a toast to my Christmas miracles. Everyone raised their glasses. Alice and I had the fruit juice, but it had the same meaning as the champagne they all drank. Later, after the distribution of gifts, I asked Ric if he was disappointed in me and he replied:

Sable Christmas Eve settled over the clubhouse louder than any holiday had a right to. Someone had dragged in a cedar that looked like it had been bullied out of the desert and forced into seasonal participation, and now it stood in the corner of the common room sagging beneath mismatched ornaments, colored lights, and enough tinsel to qualify as a fire hazard. Bryce had declared the crooked angel on top “punk rock,” which earned him a threat from Hannah involving a serving spoon and his kneecaps. Charlie laughed so hard she nearly dropped a tray of cookies, and half the men in the room pretended they weren’t enjoying the whole thing as much as they were.