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Short stories: Christmas tales

The small town beamed, and every house seemed to sigh in its own contentment. Their windows bright and cheery, faithfully reflecting those who remained inside. Everyone was worn with the day's activities, and the anticipation of what tomorrow could bring.

Pure white and gaily colored lights blinked bashfully as they lit up the sleepy town. Tucked in by an ever growing blanket of snow gracefully drifting down from heaven, there could be no more beautiful sight on Earth.



Everybody was together again with their loved ones in honor of this one special day. Everybody except one. A lone figure in a black hooded trench coat wandered determinedly through the winter dreamland. Her head stubbornly facing the road, refusing to acknowledge the scenery around her. The ones playing in her head were distracting enough.

Part of her longed for the time when this season meant everlasting goodwill and hope, where there was untold joy in the simple comforts sung around the world in unity. Yet things were different in this alien era, as if the world around her was in constant motion while she remained here, trapped by her anger and despair.

The wind began to pick up, aggravated at the sour mood ruining such a pleasant night. Yet she kept her head down, ignoring it as she desperately tried to ignore all the memories inside. With a final puff of frustration, the wind blew underneath her shielding hood forcing her to see all that was around her.

Against her will, she was halted by the gentle caress of the snow, coaxing a tired smile as her sorrows began to melt away like the flakes on her cheeks. Dreamily she closed her eyes, banishing the pain of her past for one blissful moment.

When she opened them again, he reached out to her through the long years; his bright hazel eyes laughing along with the contagious smile on his innocent young face. Yet as she reached out to him, his eyes turned a vengeful red as he came at her. Her heart felt like it was being torn from her as she tried hard to look away.

Flinching as she braced for his attack, she turned to face him again only to find that he had never been there. Her eyes begged her permission to cry, and for a moment she considered betraying her dignity. Reaching behind her neck for her misplaced hood, her deeply carved frown returned. She would not be distracted from her anger again.

There weren't enough roads in the entire world, she realized, to simply walk away from all she had been through. This Christmas Eve march only served to


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