Fragile A Christmas Story Novels & Stories

The movie was scary to fawaz, he wasn't familiar with such big fishes. The movie ended in two hours , nafisa and fawaz were already sleeping. Khadija sigh before joining them. They woke up around four in the evening, prayed and they sat talking. "Naffy, it is getting late. Let me get going " Khadija said to nafisa . "Okay"She replied and run off to her room. She got chocolate cake, and chocolate biscuits for fawaz, then Khadija's favorite square veil. The house felt empty, just like her an empty soul when her husband left her. she flipped through the cartoon channel , sighing heavily. She missed her husband.

It became fragile, easily broken. Even small injuries took forever to heal. The slightest stress could send me spiraling out of control. Sometimes, I even felt like that fragility protected me. Since I seemed like 'too much trouble,' some of the worst things that could have happened to me were avoided. However, they did not let me off. They only became harsher. If something went wrong, I was beaten. If nothing went wrong, I was still beaten. If something in the house broke, it was my fault. If my younger brothers picked on me and I fought back, that was my fault, too.

she holds her hands together begging me to say yes and I swear I feel a small piece of my heart die. She's 3 years old and begging for a Christmas tree for her birthday, what kind of mother am I? She deserves so much better than what she has, and yet things are only going to get worse. This place... our home is the only place that she's ever known. I've lived in my fair share of homeless spots and this place is the best but we have to leave after Christmas and start over in a new city where we won't know anyone and I'm dreading what that will do to her... she's going to be so sad.

3rd January, 1999(morning) The Warehouse Lana Its a never ending circle. A repeated sequence I experience everyday, locked up in this room with little or no contact. A hollow feeling in my heart whenever I think about my family, the grief I feel whenever I remember those who died in that bloody Christmas party.

One soft click. The picture came out tasteful but teasing, enough to make him grin. She smiled, selected Darren’s name, hit send. Then tossed her phone onto the bed and poured herself a glass of cheap red wine. Next week, she'd have her bags packed, ready to head to Maysville, the small town she'd grown up in for Christmas. Her holiday plan was just perfect! Her playlist hummed to life; jazzy, lazy Christmas tunes filling the air. For the first time all day, her shoulders relaxed. She even started humming along, thinking about what tomorrow morning would look like. Morning pancakes, bad movies, Darren’s laugh…

But the image of Elias dancing, loose, confident, beautiful, refused to leave his head. The ice was cracking faster now. And Jax wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend it was solid beneath his feet.

Shaking with fear, I hid in the far corner. When I was thirsty, I ate snow. When I was hungry, I slept. The frostbite sores flared up. The pain had me crying every day. Whenever I heard footsteps, I dragged the stiff body in front of me like a shield. That was how I spent two days. Next to a corpse. My hair was a total mess, knotted everywhere. My clothes were filthy. I looked like I'd been living on the street for years. On Christmas Eve, I finally dragged myself out to beg for food.

Then whispered, “Oh sweetie… that is spectacularly awful. Well done. You win Christmas.” I didn’t win anything. Across the room, Jace was still watching me. Not like a man looking at a houseguest. Not like a father checking on his daughter’s friend. More like…More like he saw the crack in me and wanted to put his hands there. No. Stop. Absolutely not. I straightened my spine, pretending I wasn’t dying inside, and told myself I was imagining it. I wasn’t. Because later, after Lena dragged my suitcase upstairs and left me with a mug of hot chocolate that tasted like a warm hug, I headed downstairs to return the mug—

“They love you to pieces.” I smiled then. And that’s how we fell asleep. Both of us smiling. Me holding her hand. Her thankful to be a part of a close knit group. And me thankful that I got to do this. I got my second chance. I’d never been more thankful for anything. <> Something was tickling me. I opened my eyes to see Frankie’s big ass head close to my face. I looked at him funny. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Just waking you up princess. It’s Christmas!!” He said smiling.

That night, we all sat in the living room watching a classic Christmas movie. Onscreen, in The Polar Express, Santa slid down a chimney with his giant sack of gifts, smiling at the children. I watched the screen, but all I could picture was the twisted figure Sophie described. Spider fingers, too many joints, a tilted head, standing perfectly still. Suddenly, it hit me. A gaping hole in Sophie's story.