A Christmas horror story

Dear Santa,

In light of the fact that it’s nearly Christmas, I wanted to remind you that I should be on your nice list this year. Things have been hard for me. I understand why you may think that I deserve to be on your naughty list, however, I think that’s just not fair. Look at all the good things I’ve done this year! Early in January, if I had gotten that paintball gun that I asked you for, I wouldn't have ever usedit on any other kids. Not one child would have felt the wrath of my paint exploding onto their unknowing faces. Except for James. But he would have deserved it. I mean, he probably would have asked me to prove to him I could hit him. So I would have, but you understand don’t you.

Anyways, I didn’t steal once this year. I’ve changed, I know! Believe me, I have learned the value of being honest and never taking what isn’t rightfully mine. I’ve even started to return things that I stole, like the knife fromthe fancy cooking store, even though no one had even noticed that it was gone. I also paid back all of the money I owed my friend Thomas, he seemed really happy to be able to use it all to buy me new shoes! (Oh yeah, I won’t be needing new shoes this year.) Over the summer, I learned how to make cookies which were so good! The smell of the chocolate filled everyone’s lungs, I know it. They were so deliciously crispy on the outside and yet chewy and melty on the inside. I’ll be making some for when you come down my chimney, you knowit. I’ll make you even fatter than you already are ! Which is quite impressive if you ask me.

Now, on the subject of school I knowsome things have changed. I admit, I am not proud of what I have done in class. But in all fairness, it’s all Mr. Jackson’s fault! Let me explain. My new homeroom teacher this year is Mr. Jackson. He also teaches math. On our very first day of school, having already decided to become a better student, I was behaving completely perfectly by all standards. When I raised my hand to ask him a question, he silenced me and told me to put my hand down because we were in the middle of the roll call. But Santa, I swear to you, we weren’t! I’ll admit, he was calling out names, but only because he was so stupid he couldn’t remember anyone’s. So yes, naturally I got angry. I stood up throwing my desk forwards and it hit the kid in front of me. He started crying even though it clearly was just a small bruise starting to grow onhis head. When Mr. Jackson started coming towards me, I screamed at him and told him to stay away. I got out my knife that I stole, and pointed it towards him.

Ok, maybe I did keep the knife from the fancy cooking store, but like I said, no one saw me swipe it off the shelf. Mr Jackson got scared. I could see it in his eyes, the blood vessels started to bulge out like in a horror film. The kids around me started to scream and I shouted at them all to shut up. I yelled to them saying that Mr. Jackson was going to hurt us and that he was an evil man. I’m such a kind and heartfelt person, the other kids really love me, you could tell they felt safer, thanks to my bravery. I told James to close the door to the classroom since he was closest to it, and he did so without hesitation, knowing that he could trust me. The awkward, almost scared smile on his face told me that I had his loyalty. I took a step closer towards Mr. Jackson with my knife clenched in my hand. He didn’t deserve to stand there and look at me. I rallied my classmates once more, ordering them to gather around him so that he had nowhere to escape to. Throughout the entire time while the other kids started to surround him, I kept my eyes on the man. He was scared, but also smart. The ripples on his forehead told me he was calculating a way to get out of the room. Before his plan could be completed in his mind, I startledhim by stepping close to him and yelling: “What did Santa give you last Christmas?!”.

Ilya R

The guy was confused, I could tell. The idiot. So I repeated my question. My anger rose to a height I had never felt before. I could see the reflection of my eyes within his, and see the flames bellowing inside of them. I was kind of proud of my authority in front of such a weakling. You know where this is going. You knowwhat he answered with. Of course you know, you see everything, you’re the one who gave him his Christmas wish! He chuckled after I repeated myself and asked if I would put down the knife if he told me what I asked for. I had to know what you gave him. I had to know what such a meager man deserved to wake up to on Christmas morning underneath the Christmas Tree. He answered, almost jokingly, “I got a paintball gun.”

How could you? How did he deserve it more than I did? How could you ever compare him to me and my kindness and fall for his tricks to think he merits such a wonderful gift? It’s UNFAIR! I screamed at him. Just then, the idiot launched himself at me thinking he had overpowered my wit through emotional manipulation. But he hadn’t. I’m a sturdy kid. As he jumped towards me, I held out my knife and it disappeared into his stomach. He deserved it. And you were wrong. He forced me to do it, I swear to you, it’s not my fault that he collapsed to the floor clutching his abdomen.

Your judgment was off last time. So I’m asking you kindly not to judgeme too quickly. I promise I deserve to be on your nice list. I am telling you, now, so that you don’t make another mistake. Honestly, just for writing this letter, I deserve to be on the nice list. So you do put me on it and I’ll have cookies waiting in the living room just for you, deal? And maybe, I’ll stay up to see you, so we can have a talk, you and I. I appreciate you, Santa, I really do.

From, Your Biggest Fan 70 Rue du Théâtre 75015