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Lol, that’s awesome.
I know haha!
Lukas&Livia
#Lalbert
Sef&Chase
#HOTTOLINE
LEFSE FOREVER!!!!!! <333@esther-c @savannah_grace2009 @anyone else
Sooo this is slightly late (but who cares, it’s only December 26 lol) and it’s definitely not the warm and cozy happy feeling kind of Christmas story, but here you are. I don’t normally write stories so sad, and definitely not in Christmas stories, but for some reason this is what I had the idea to write, so you’re welcome.
Also, there’s a flashback in the story and I switched from first person to third person because the flashback is to when Ruth (the MC) is a toddler, and I thought first person would feel a little weird with a young child… but it also feels strange switching POVs. Let me know what you think would work best….
We went to the Christmas Eve service together. Mom made us do that every year, even if we didn’t do many other celebrations for Christmas. I suppose everyone expected us to be there, so we went.
The house was eerily quiet when we got home. The glow of the lights from the Christmas tree gave the living room a cozy feel, but even though a piece of me felt drawn to enjoy the moment, I was afraid that I’d fall apart if I allowed myself to feel.
Brian and Thomas plopped down on the floor and examined the gifts under the tree with curiosity, but I said goodnight and holed up in my bedroom.
Try as I might, I couldn’t fall asleep. I tossed and turned, but couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Finally, I gave up and rose from my bed. Silently, I slipped down the hall and crept down the half-flight of steps to the living room. The moon cast shadows through the top half of the large picture window, unguarded by the curtains that shielded the lower half, and the darkened tree loomed like a tall specter. My feet shuffled across the shag carpet, and I stopped by the tree. I plugged in the cord, and the tree came to life.
I sank to the floor next to the tree and gazed at the magical glow. The tree was oblivious to any negative emotion, performing the task it did every year, spreading Christmas cheer. My eye stopped at the glass angel hanging from a branch, a line of glue clear where the wing had been re-attached. Tears welled in my eyes as I remembered what had happened to that angel so many years ago….
… Four-year-old Ruth stared in wide-eyed awe at the tree, reflections of the lights shining in her eyes. Her hand reached up, touching the glass angel on the tree.
“Careful, sweetie,” Daddy’s voice warned gently. “The glass is fragile.” Ruth withdrew her fingers a few inches, but her hand stayed in midair near the angel.
“It’s so pretty, Daddy,” Ruth said in a voice full of wonder. Daddy smiled, lifting a shiny red ball.
“Do you want to put this one on, hon?”
Ruth spun towards him, her foot catching on the edge of the rug. Her arm swung through the air as she balanced herself, squarely hitting the angel. The ornament jerked off the branch and bounced a few times on other branches on its way to the ground. Hitting the hard floor below, the angel’s wing broke cleanly off. Ruth gasped, staring in horror at the broken ornament for a few long seconds before her face crumpled and she burst into tears.
Daddy quickly stepped over and took Ruth into his arms. “Shh, it’s okay, Ruth,” he said.
“I broke the angel,” Ruth lamented.
“We can fix the angel, honey.” Daddy reached with one hand and gathered the glass angel and its wing. “See, it only broke off in one piece. It didn’t shatter. It won’t be hard to glue it back together.”
“Am I going to get a time-out?”
“Of course not, Ruth! It was an accident! Accidents happen sometimes, even when we’re being careful.” Daddy kissed Ruth on the cheek and rubbed away her tears. “Cheer up. Let’s go ask Mommy for some glue.”…
Accidents happen sometimes, even when we’re being careful. Dad’s words echoed in my head as I let the tears run down my face, blurring the glass angel in front of me. Dad had always been a good driver, of that I was sure. It wasn’t his fault his car had been hit, but the accident happened, and now he was gone. Oh, how I missed him! Gently, I reached up and took the angel ornament off the tree, rubbing the glass with my fingers. What I wouldn’t give to get one more day with Dad, one more chance to say I love you.
Sniffing, I held the angel ornament to my chest. All the emotions I had bottled up for months released at once, and I wept.
God, if You’re still listening to me anymore, tell Dad I miss him, I cried out silently. I miss him a lot… and, I guess, merry Christmas.
I certainly didn’t feel merry, but letting out all my tears somehow made me feel better. When my sobs subsided, I reverently hung the angel back on the tree, staring at it for another long second before I stood to my feet. When I unplugged the cord, the room plunged into darkness again. Drawing in a shaky breath, I made my way back up the stairs and down the hall to my room. All my crying had worn me out, and I fell asleep quickly.
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
Aww 🥺
I don’t think the POV switch is too odd. When I do flashbacks I switch from third-person to first-person POV. So yeah, I think it works. 🙂
Write what should not be forgotten. — Isabel Allende
I almost confused myself while writing, though, haha, but if it doesn’t seem to0 weird to read it that way, that’s great!
"Real love is for your good, not for your comfort." -Justin Whitmel Earley
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