A Late Letter
It was a cold Christmas Eve when Tammy walked up to her front door and saw a letter. It had a yellow tint to it and an old red stamp. She took a closer look.
It was dated December 24th, 1970. Tammy was startled.
She thought, “Why is it fifty years late?”
She immediately tore the letter open and started to read:
You have no clue how torn up I am about what I did. If you could meet me at our spot on Christmas Eve, I have something to give you.
She took a moment to remember Bessie; it was one of her old friends. She tried to remember what she had supposedly done but then it hit her: she had to find Bessie.
She remembered their spot; it was an old coffee shop they always went to on Christmas Eve. When she showed up, she saw a red-haired lady wearing a big brown fur coat sitting on a bench. She was holding a little box in her hand. As Tammy approached her, the lady quickly turned her head.
Tammy looked surprised to see she hadn’t changed. She held up the old letter and asked Bessie what had brought her there if the letter was fifty years late. Bessie responded by saying, “I’ve come every year.”
Bessie gave her the box, and when Tammy opened it she instantly burst into tears.
As years progress
And hair turns gray
We’ll be telling our children
Of this strange Christmas Day.
They might not believe us
I don’t believe it now
But they will listen
As we tell them how.
The sky was red
And the earth was gray
And we couldn’t go out
During the day.
Then the factories stopped
And the water was clear
People saw stars
For the first time in years.
This may sound like fiction
But we’ll swear that it’s true
That the world slowed down
And we started anew.
That this year, our Christmas
Would happen by phone
And though we were separate
We were hardly alone.
The people stood tall
A democracy made
And the jolly orange giant
Was eventually stayed.
The fact that this happened
In only one year
Is a fact that I’m sure
Will never become clear.
So this year for Christmas
At the end of 2020
I’ll ask for an end
Because one year is plenty.
Once upon a Christmas Eve, there was a kid named Ricki who was unusually short for his age. He had jet-black hair and a birthmark the shape of Africa on the left side of his head. He lived in a crime-ridden city.
One day, he was walking home and overheard some men talking in an alley. He heard them talking about some kind of plan. He crept closer to the alley to listen in and what he heard astonished him. The men were going to sneak into people’s houses on Christmas Day to rob them! He quickly ran home to think about what he had heard.
When he got home, he thought and thought. He decided that it wasn’t his problem and would let all those people get robbed instead of doing something to help.
Later that night, he tried to go to sleep, but something was nagging him at the back of his mind.
He felt bad that he hadn’t done anything to help the people who were getting robbed, so he decided to do something about it.
He snuck downstairs and picked up the home phone and called the police.
He told them everything that he had heard.
The next morning, he looked at his father’s newspaper and saw that three robbers had been caught red-handed the night before. He felt really great because he had done something to help.
It turned out to be his best Christmas ever.
Dear diary. Today is December 1st, one of my least favourite days of the entire year, when my parents go all out for Christmas. When I was younger, I used to love it, but now that I’m older, it’s just no longer any fun. ~ Clementine.
My mom came to my room and asked me to grab the ornaments from the attic. I tucked my journal under my bed and went reluctantly. While I was looking for them, I came across a few old boxes and started looking through them.
I didn’t find much except a video tape. When I showed my parents, they got super-excited and before I could say no, they insisted that we watch it.
I inserted the tape, and suddenly my vision went blurry, and my life flashed before my eyes. All I could see was me in my kitchen making a gingerbread house with my mom and listening to Christmas carols in my favourite holiday pyjamas. But I hated Christmas carols, I didn’t wear holiday pyjamas anymore…
I was so confused. I finally realized what was going on: I was in the video tape reliving my past memories, but I wasn’t complaining; it was so much fun!
I felt tapping on my shoulder and someone mumbling my name. It was my mom waking me up. It was all a dream, but a dream that showed how much I was missing out on the holiday fun.
I never missed out again!