Really Short Christmas Stories Novels & Stories

but not here. Richard listens to all this, his face intent, but he chuckles, shaking his head ruefully. "Yes, and last Christmas was no picnic either, was it? You three hunted by Klempner´s men and, well, getting my offices attacked and set on fire wasn´t exactly my first choice from Santa." He gives her a long look. "I imagine that Christmas when you were a child, in the Blessingmoors Home, was nothing to celebrate either?"

𝟏𝟑 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 One of my fondest childhood memories during the Christmas season is the tradition of the elf. My parents used to tell me that Santa sent little helpers around the world to check if kids were being good or bad. If they behaved, the elf would leave a small gift, but if they were naughty, the elf would play tricks on them. These elves stayed in our house for almost all of December: during the day, they were lifeless dolls watching over us; at night, they came alive and acted. When I discovered none of it was true and it was my parents leaving the gifts or playing pranks, my heart broke. But I still remember the joy of those moments, which is why I played along when my pare

Wyatt followed her and Mugsy up the back stairs and into his room. Ronnie turned down the covers and patted the sheets. Wyatt slid in and Mugsy soon joined him on top of the bed. Ronnie tucked Wyatt in and gave him a kiss on his forehead. But when she turned to leave, Wyatt asked, "Some kids at the big house cried like babies until one of the older kids read them a story Do you read stories?" "Let me see what we have here on the shelf. Oh, here's one, it's called Prancer. Do you know who Prancer is?"

Which means. Her huge eyes went on Ammar to confirm, Ammar, who was already looking at her, nods his head then rolled his eyes at his friends. Telling her he wasn't planning to break the good news like that. A huge smile made its way on Subh-Dil's face as she looked at Rida, thanking her. "Let's have some sweet on this occasion." Nitin seems to be the only sensible person, as he opened the sweet box, which he bought for them.

When Noah Levine came back, Christmas had already passed. I'd thrown that reindeer lingerie into a street trash bin. "Babe, I left in such a rush last night that I forgot to give you your Christmas present." He pulled out a sapphire necklace and swept my hair aside to fasten it around my neck. Because he leaned in so close, I could clearly see the red marks on his neck and smell the sickly sweet perfume that obviously wasn't his. Knowing the scent belonged to my own sister made my stomach turn.

Help. Hey everyone, I need help. Two days ago, my five-year-old sister said she saw Santa Claus in our house, but her description doesn't match the traditional image at all. She said this "Santa" had long, spider-like fingers, too many joints, crawled like a four-legged animal, and after climbing out of our chimney, it just stood silently in the corner of our living room, watching us for an hour. Most importantly, when I asked if this "Santa" had a gift sack, she said no. Just a lumpy, wrinkled, moving sack on its back.

Killian immediately shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders, and she pulled it tight around herself, breathing in his scent. "I loved Christmas here," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was—they made it so special. So magical. Mrs Morales would start decorating the day after Thanksgiving. She had made us all hot chocolate and put on Christmas music–Mary's Boy Child by Bonney M precisely, and we'd spend the whole day turning the house into something out of a Hallmark movie. And Mr Morales, he'd read us the Christmas story every single night in December, counting down until the actual day. And Daryl would—" She couldn't finish. "I hated the smell of Christmas

Elijah hums. “He is. But the snowman does not give up. He learns that far into the woods, there’s a fairy who can grant any of his wishes. So he starts his journey into the woods. But behind those woods lie evil creatures. He fights those evil creatures and wins. Then he meets the fairy, who grants him his one true desire. To live with the sun without melting. So the snowman gets to be with the sun again and lives happily ever after.”

“A story?” “Yes. A story,” I say, my voice sharp as glass. I set the glass down and lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “There was a little girl who dreamed of having a beautiful Christmas wedding. She had it all planned out—snowflakes, fairy lights, the perfect dress. But then her boyfriend cheated on her. Betrayed her. And those dreams? They crumbled into nothing.” Elijah’s jaw tightens slightly, his hands clenching on the table, but he stays silent.

“What story do you want?” “The little white rabbit and the big grey wolf.” “Once upon a time, there was a big grey wolf. The first time he saw the little white rabbit, he decided he would protect this poor little creature…”