Year Without A Santa Claus Mother Nature の小説・ストーリー

A Gift of Unexpected Support The first snow of the season fell quietly outside, covering the ground in a soft white blanket. Estonia and Travis sat by the fireplace, their living room aglow with the warmth of the crackling flames. Christmas was just around the corner, and this year, the holiday carried a deeper meaning for them. It would be their last Christmas as just the two of them; by this time next year, they would be celebrating with their daughter.

His mother was also a person not to mess with. Although he knew that Abby would have a good time at the Children's Home seeing Santa Claus, he just wished he could be there with her. When his shift fell over Christmas, he had been tempted to trade with another firefighter, but he couldn't have enjoyed himself at home with his family knowing a co-worker couldn't be with his. Taren sighed. Over the past few years, he had gotten lucky and had been off for Christmas- but not this year.

“I got to get to work. It was a pleasure meeting you.” The woman was almost out the door when Lucette called, “Mama Metcalf?” “Yeah, honey?” she said, turning back. “I’m sorry I told you there’s no Santa. I thought you would’ve known by now.”

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Back in the hospice ward, Noelle opened her eyes weakly. She looked around and said, "Daddy, Mommy promised me she'd dress up as Santarina and bring me presents… Isn't that right?" I held her hand tightly, forcing back my grief. "Yes. Mommy will come as Santarina." I lowered my head helplessly and checked my phone again, but there was still no response from Ivana. Then, I opened Instagram and saw Charles' newest post. He wrote, "Bubbles is missing. I feel like I can't breathe… Bubbles, where are you?"

Before I could respond, headlights swept across the front windows. Silence immediately filled the room. My father straightened. My mother smoothed her hair. And somehow my own pulse became deafening. A car door shut outside. Then another. The front gate clicked softly in the distance. For one insane second, I actually considered running. The knock came three beats later. My father practically rushed to open it. Cold winter air flooded the foyer first. “Merry Christmas,” he said warmly as he stepped inside, snow melting slowly from the shoulders of his dark coat.

When Todd had turned to her and told her that he and Chris were telling him about how special Christmas was going to be this year, she gave me a huge smile, kissed me on the cheek, and looking into my eyes said, "That's right, I have something very special to give to my baby this year." I turned to look at her, and smiled back. Between my father's passing, money troubles and two of her sons leaving home for school, Mom had had more downs than ups over the last three years, although she did always seemed especially happy around Christmas. Thinking about her last remark to me I remembered her telling Chris a couple of years ago, that she'd had something special for him that year. Standing ther

Even so, to begin with, she has grown another ten and a half centimetres since the start of the holidays (despite it not even being the end of Christmas yet, during the holidays that her parents missed, who had to work overtime, during the End of work. In that region, there was a wave of layoffs, so, to keep their jobs, they agreed to replace and maintain the business so, they wouldn't be present at Christmas, nor would they be able to go to family parties at the end of the year, apparently, nor they would have holidays in January next year. She has a sensational snow-white pallor, which was different from normal days due to the snow, as well as work on the construction sites, little sun, tr

It’s a Facetime from Dad, and I reluctantly pick the call, already suspecting why he’s calling. “Hey, Dad,” I greet, and a second later, Samantha, Scarlet's Mom, and my stepmom, rears her head through the screen. “Hey, Samantha. Happy holidays, guys,” I say, kicking off my shoes and already imagining a hot shower because the last thing I want to entertain is the frown on both their faces. Dad speaks. “Daphne, it’s a week to Christmas, and you’ve barely called your stepmother or me. Is this how you want us to end the year? Without speaking? You know that brings bad luck into the new year, right?”

she said after we finished eating. I glanced at Atlas beside me. Truth is, inside those ten years, I never experienced buying Christmas decors. I spent my Christmas with my dad and sometimes we travel to Europe. Sometimes I end up drowning myself in liquor with Mom in her mausoleum. Atlas and I were never with each other to greet Christmas. "Do we need that, Ma? The important thing is the essence of Christmas, not material things." He scratched his head. I smiled. "He's right, Ma."