Fragile A Christmas Story の小説・ストーリー

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…

I quickly get out of the car, and almost fall due to my shaking legs, but I’m caught by two arms that belong to none other than my reckless Santa. “Are you ok?” He asks in a gentle voice, as he comes and stands in front of me, looking at me worried with a pair of cerulean green eyes that stand out due to his dark skin tone, and I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t. I’m too shaken up, and also angry, and I don’t want to say something that I might regret. He’s just an old man, Jamal. I tell myself in order to calm down.

This bar was no fairytale, but rather a twisted, fucked up retelling. But the blurred and crowded haze of smoke and cheap cologne which Amberleigh and Giovanni walked into was just like any other bar though. Same went for the drunk ass people hoping to get lucky tonight and escape reality for a while. Their loneliness and hopelessness only worse during this time of year. The suicide rate in The Fringe was always the highest during the Christmas season, while it unexpectedly went down a bit in other parts of the city. Probably because there was better resources for mental health across the tracks.

Yet, as he looked at his daughter,there was something almost tender in his eyes. Her daughter, tiny and fragile ,barely moved. While most babies cried and wriggled and reached out,She stood still, her little limbs resting likely against Christiana's chest. Her breathing was soft and shallow,and when she opened her eyes, they didn't seem to focus on anything. “ She's just premature”, Alexander had told her when she voiced her concern earlier. “ Give her time to grow stronger”. But Christiana couldn't ignore the pathetic feeling that something was not right.

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.

“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.

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.