Christmas Hater Novels & Stories

I hissed at him. "Hannah, the people running for godfather are beasts. Dad is a calculative sociopath while Christian is a deranged psychopath. It doesn't matter who wins. They are both the same, inhumane." Lilly says hoping her manifesto would convince me buy I'm smarter than that. "You're older than me so you are well aware of the tradition of this stupid family. You are well aware that this tradition was inhumane in the first place because I lost my father because of it. I will never participate in something that took my father away from me." They want the war to end quickly but using me as a sacrifice and making it sound like it was for good, was stupid to begin with.

Not with the paycheck. Christmas just got a whole lot fucking worse.

“Your dad? The doctor?” ‎“The doctor, the legend, the man who thinks he’s too busy to have a social life. But I promise you, you’ll meet him on Christmas Eve. He’s hosting the holiday party this year.” Cami shrugged, totally unconcerned. “Anyway, he rushed back to the hospital. Hopefully, he didn’t accidentally run anyone over in the process.” ‎ ‎I shook the image of the rude, devastating stranger from my head. No way was that intense, dark-eyed man Cami’s dad. He had looked like a storm, not a family man hosting a party.

"They missed you. They wanted to see their daughter for Christmas. They thought they would have a happy reunion, but instead, their family got ripped apart. And all this because of your new lover. They're disappointed in you. So am I. I'll get the papers ready as soon as I can." Her eyes turned red, and tears welled up. "I failed my parents. I failed you, Felix. I swear I won't bring any more men home. I'll stop this kind of life. It's behind me now. I swear, I'll change. Can we start anew?"

Whenever I asked my mom why Santa never showed up at our house or gave me gifts at Christmas, she would simply say I was a naughty kid, and Santa never gave gifts to naughty children. And maybe she was right. I did a lot of bad things growing up. I know I did. But I changed as I got older, and still, Santa never came. He never brought me any gifts for Christmas. So I started to believe he hated me. Or maybe he just wasn’t real. Yes, he wasn’t real. That was the conclusion I came to—it was the only logical reason. Now that I’m an adult, I don’t care about Santa, gifts, or Christmas.

Roth has heard a lot of jokes like this from him over the years, enough to be entertained instead of being insulted. Do you want me to remind you of how finding a mate works, V? Or should I just give you a mental recording with the right amount of sarcasm? "Well, bah humbug to you too, Roth. I just can't believe this is the 32nd Christmas that we won't be having anyone celebrating the holidays. I was hoping you've already made up your mind by now." When I find her scent, you will be the first to know. Meanwhile, it's bah humbug to you too, Vince. So, are you going to continue working as you usually do, or go home and rest, which I know you dislike at this time of year?

The laughter came and came until my sides were aching and tears of joy streamed down my face. "Thank you," I said in-between laughter. "I appreciate it." "Haters," The older woman shook her head. "They see a woman doing well and they want to drag her down. So disgusting." I burst out laughing. What will they say if I told them I knew the hater who was spreading all this shit about me? *****

I was so freaking angry. I hated Sinister. I hated Mr. Mobley. I hated Chris. I hated all of them. They were all the same. White men, they're all DEVILS!

Jennifer chuckled and retorted mockingly, "CEO? Do you really think she became CEO through her own abilities? Without Jeremiah and me backing her up, she's just a useless loser." Charles looked at Jennifer in disbelief. His eyes were filled with shock and anger. Annoyed by the noise, I told the bodyguards to drag the two of them farther away. I crouched alone by the seaside. The winter wind blowing from the ocean was icy and piercing. Little by little, I scattered Noelle's ashes into the sea. I said softly, "Today is Christmas, Noelle. It's also the day you were born. I'm letting you return to the ocean."

“Is it the tree? We can move the tree.” A third whispered, “Is it the star on top? Did it insult you.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I do not hate Christmas.” A chorus of skeptical murmurs filled the hallway. “You flinch every time we say the word,” someone pointed out. “You hissed at a candy cane,” another said. “You refused to stand near the gingerbread house,” a third added. “You claimed it was staring at you.” “It was staring at me,” I said firmly. “Its frosting eyes followed me.”