In the biting cold of that awful fucking night, I stormed out of my house, the Santa hat blowing to the side in the gentle wind. The argument with my father had left me furious, as I left the house I never even said goodbye to my family.
As I made my way down the road, the thin layer of snow crunched beneath my feet. A ghostly breeze carried the falling snow towards me. I’d always found comfort walking on nights like these, the gentle crunch of the snow mixed with the sound of the wind gently sweeping by had always calmed me.
I finally arrived at the bar, my friends who had already been there for an hour greeted me cheerfully.
None of us drank much, I had a few beers and that was it. We spoke of the holidays, about what we all wanted for Christmas, what we hoped the next year would be like, that sort of stuff. We were speaking for hours, as the night progressed, we began to speak of old Christmas memories, we asked each other things like what our favourite Christmas presents had been, and what our first memories of Christmas were.
The earliest Christmas I can remember is the Christmas of 2010, my dad bought me a massive stuffed teddy bear, I had always loved it growing up. When I was little, I used to fall asleep cuddling my teddy, my mother even said she’d sometimes find me curled up in the teddy’s lap with the blankets pulled tightly over my head.
As time went on I started getting tired and David, a close friend, decided to walk me home through the silent snow-covered streets.
The world seemed different in the muted glow of the streetlights. An uncomfortable silence hung in the air as we walked, and as David bid farewell, I approached my house. Red and blue lights flickered ominously, drawing my attention to the scene unfolding.
A couple police cars and an ambulance were stationed outside. Panic surged through me as I sprinted towards the chaos, only to witness the unthinkable – my lifeless body being carried out on a stretcher. My parents stood by the doorway, my mother’s cries cutting through the cold night, and my father’s face etched with an unreadable expression.
The realization hit me like an icy wind, I ran towards my parents, screaming and yelling in a desperate attempt to show them I was still in fact alive.
However my cries went unheard, and I stood there in the cold for what felt like hours but might only have been minutes. One of the officers was speaking to my parents, I heard him giving his condolences, before him and the other officers drove away followed by the ambulance.
My parents stood there for a few minutes, looking at each other. And for a moment, I thought I even saw a tear fall down my father’s face.
They turned and walked inside, closing the door behind them.
I continued to stand in the snow, watching the windows. I didn’t know what to do. The lights turned off, and now the only thing I could see was the eerie glow of the Christmas tree lights through the living room windows.
I was left trapped in a dark and lonely existence. I roamed the snowy streets, in nothing but a Christmas sweater and a Santa hat – a chilling reminder of the festive night that ended in inexplicable horror.
The world I once knew had become an eerie dreamscape. The beauty of the snow now concealed a sinister secret, and the joyous season had transformed into a perpetual nightmare. Alone, cold, and haunted by what I had just witnessed, I lingered as a ghost, forever separated from the warmth of the living.
My only company now, is my phone, I used what little battery I have left to publish this post. Thank you for reading, if anyone knows my family.. please tell them I love them, and I miss them.