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Trigger Warning:
This creative piece contains themes of grief and suicide ideation. Reader discretion is advised. If you are struggling or need someone to talk to, please reach out to a trusted adult, school counselor, or mental health professional. You are not alone.

(Author’s note to the reader: I had written “Trick, No Treat” as an exaggerated cautionary tale of jokes going too far, but I decided that the world I began to shape in that story should continue to expand. If you see my name attached to a Golden Tale, it is likely a continuation of that story. A continuation through the eyes of poor Aspen’s loved ones. Here, we will follow Yuki and the dark path her grief takes her down. This twisted story inspired by an ordinary phrase should serve not only as a sequel to Halloween, but also as a lesson; The ways in which Yuki copes with her grief, you should absolutely not cope with yours. If you go through the agony of loss, please talk to someone. Find a healthy outlet, such as journaling, therapy, or a new hobby. Most importantly, please remember that dying is never the answer to your problems. You will not only destroy any chance of things getting better, but you will also irreparably hurt the people who care about you. Your life more than matters. Always remember that. Yuki is not a role model here, but a kid whose grief spiraled out of control. If someone in your life is grieving, please make sure to be there for them. We all matter very much.)

The first time I woke up in the beautiful field, I looked upon the masses of blooming white carnations with confusion.

I did not recognize this flower field, after all. I did not even remember traveling to it. One moment, I was in my dimly lit bedroom, and the next moment, I was shivering madly as raindrops attacked me.

I stood up and shielded my eyes from the weather, but even though water didn’t blind me, there were too many drops to see very far. So, I trudged through the muddy soil, careful not to trample onto a single flower.

However, there were too many flowers.

My heart sank when I eventually heard a crunch. I looked down and lifted my foot, and I saw one petal was barely holding on, and the others were flattened with the rest of the plant.

A life squashed out, and it was all my fault.

“Your fault…?”

I froze at the sound of the innocent voice. I remember that young voice all too well.

“Yuki… Yuki, answer me. Was it really your fault?”

It couldn’t be. It simply couldn’t be. Her voice had been given time to mature by her teenage years– no, more importantly…

…

More importantly… 

She was dead.

“Dead…?” The girl sounded surprised by this fact.

I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out of my quivering lips.

My face felt warm, and I knew then that not every drop of water on my face was the rain.

“Yuki… am I really dead?”

A small hand placed itself on my shoulder. I realized my own hands were small.

“Yuki… I’m right here, you know.”

I took a deep breath and looked over my shoulder.

There she was, with her brown hair and brown… both of her eyes. She smiled her ever-so-rare smile.

A hesitant question at last escaped me.

“Aspen…?”

“That’s me…” Indeed, that was her little voice. “I’m not dead… besides, if I were…”

I wobbled from strong winds and firmly planted my little feet into…

…

Water was up to our knees. I looked up, and Aspen’s little smile was without light in those eyes.

“... You would have to be a murderer.”

I sat up in my bed with a gasp, the dark, dry room contrasting the rainy field of white carnations.

…

I looked down at my shaky, larger hands. They blurred quickly.

She was dead because of me. Because I couldn’t–no, I just didn’t–do anything when those bullies separated us. Because I was such a useless friend when she needed me the most.

She was never coming back. Never smiling again. Never growing up. All because of me.

I could faintly smell sauce, probably a leftover pasta dish. I looked to my side table. 

There was the plate.

However, I felt nauseous and my stomach hurt. Besides, I needed to go back to the field. I needed to see Aspen again. I needed to apologize to her.

So I rested my head back on my pillow and closed my eyes all over again.

Back in the field I was. Now, rather than cold rain, I felt warm sunlight.

I frantically looked around and rushed in every direction possible through the field, squishing a few flowers on the way.

“Aspen!” I squealed with my little voice. “ASPEN!”

“Yuki!”

I whipped my head around and smiled to my ears when I saw those brown eyes full of life once more.

“ASPEN, ASPEN!” I ran to her and barreled into her, knocking her to the ground.

“Yuki! You’re so happy now!” Aspen laughed.

“Yes! Yes!” Then, I sat up and looked down at her.

“Aspen, I need to apologize…”

“Eh?” Her face fell. “For what?”

“Well… for not saving you, of course.”

“Saving me?”

“From… death?”

That’s when her hands began to blend with the grass. Her hands, and then her arms, and then her feet and legs and body, and even her head, until all that was there were squished flowers.

…

…

…

I stared, blinked, at the flowers.

…

…

…

A tear rolling down my face hit a petal, instigating decay.

…

…

…

Aspen… Aspen… Aspen…

So that must be how this field works… I can see Aspen, but by reminding her of her fate, I can destroy her…

I heard the crackle of fire behind me. I didn’t turn to confirm that suspicion.

So her life truly is in my hands… the wrong word will kill her…

She has died at least twice now, and both times were because of me…

I can’t keep killing my dearest friend… no, I have to save her!

I have to save her by rejecting her death!

All around me, warmth was steadily becoming unbearable heat.

The field of white carnations was now red and orange and yellow and bright and explosive.

“ASPEN!” I hollered at the top of my lungs. “ASPEN!!!”

“YOU’RE ALIVE!!! YOU’RE ALIVE!!! YOU’RE ALIVE!!!”

“I KNOW YOU’RE ALIVE!!!”

“Yuki, stop screaming–”

“I KNOW SHE’S ALIVE!!!”

“Yuki–”

“STOP IT WITH THIS NONSENSE!!! SHE’S ALIVE!!!

ASPEN!!! ASPEN!!!”

I gasped as the memory of that night intruded my mind.

I continued to scream through my sobs.

“YOU’RE ALIVE!!! YOU’RE STILL HERE!!! YOU NEVER DIED TO BEGIN WITH, ASPEN!!! ASPEN!!!”

I felt my body curl up as I strangled my hair with my hands.

“YOU’RE ALIVE!!!”

…

“Yes, I am.”

I looked over my shoulder where I felt a hand.

There was no fire. The carnations were back.

Aspen was back.

Every day, I visited the field.

I ran around with Aspen.

The flowers sang with our laughter.

Over time, though, her speech became disorganized. She began to cry to my laughter, and to laugh when I scraped my knee from a fall. Her smile disappeared, her face monotone.

I didn’t care. That’s always how Aspen was.

I allowed her to hide away whenever she needed to. During that time, I would twirl around, pluck out carnations, and weave together a flower crown just for her.

I would bring this crown to her. Each messily crafted one would look perfect on her.

Unfortunately, I often had to leave this field.

I could not hydrate in that paradise. I had nothing to eat at all in that paradise.

Real life contained those necessities. But my room was dark, the food was often stale by the time I ate it, and there was no Aspen at all.

What an unpleasant experience.

Naturally, I spent hours in the field.

I spent hours listening to Aspen rambling, and trying to help her when the monsters only she saw came about.

I collected many flowers every single visit. Wove them together into bouquets, wreaths… With Aspen’s help, I was even weaving together an entire house.

I collected and wove.

Everything was fine.

I talked to Aspen.

Everything was fine.

I collected and wove.

Everything was fine.

I talked to Aspen.

Everything was fine.

Everything was fine.

Everything.

Was.

Fine.

The dark place I kept having to return to was no longer “real life”.

Aspen was gone in that world.

Aspen was very much alive in reality.

Therefore, the dark place was merely a recurring nightmare.

Everyone tried telling me that she fell from a cliff.

That she’s never coming back.

Aspen was simply plucking and weaving flowers with me.

She has been around this entire time.

Therefore, the dark place was merely a recurring nightmare.

Eventually, every last carnation had been plucked from the ground.

“I’m sorry, Aspen…” I murmured as we were creating jewelry out of the hundreds of flowers, the white color beginning to dull.

“For… for… flowers… flowers on fire in this ditch in the sky? I as the queen pardon you from your thievery!”

“Well… actually, yeah, I am feeling bad for destroying this field…”

“Destruction of the merciful innocence of mankind… Do pink elephants dream such fantasies?”

“Do you think the flowers will ever come back?”

“April showers… paint the Earth… join me… join me… we are all one spirit…”

“April showers, huh…”

“Aspen commands the cats and dogs… May the flowers rise again!”

I typically don’t pay a lot of mind to Aspen’s more unusual strings of words, but…

… Sure enough, it was raining the next time I arrived in the field.

“You were right about the ‘April showers’, Aspen…” I commented.

Aspen looked around.

“Aspen?”

“Blood… the blood… it spins around… it decays, it all decays like falling rocks… rushing waves…”

“Eh…?”

Then she turned towards me and put on a smile.

“May flowers…”

“Does that mean… the carnations will return?”

“If you discard the nightmare…”

“Discard… the nightmare…?”

“Forever… Forever, we play… Forever, we weave…”

“Forever…?”

“Forever… weave our fates forever… reject the nightmare…”

“Reject the nightmare…”

“Reject it… to be with me forever…”

She began to sink into the accumulating mud. I reached for her–she was less than an arm’s length away–but she sank faster.

“Reject it… Reject my death…”

My breath caught in my throat as I watched her disappear, with only the flooding rain battering the flowerless grass remaining.

I didn’t see Aspen for several days. I kept returning to the rainy field deprived of white carnations, and I watched all of our creations decay.

I began to prefer the nightmare. Except…

She did say I need to reject the nightmare to see her…

But how? How do I reject it? I never have any choice in my return…

I finally returned to something other than the grass and the rain. However, it was terribly cloudy, and where carnations once bloomed in masses…

…

“Do you see them too, Yuki?”

I didn’t turn around when I finally heard her little voice again.

“Yuki? Do you see them?”

Before me was now a field of dark crimson roses drooping down, petals already coloring the grass.

“What happened to the carnations…?”

“The nightmare is interfering with this beautiful world.”

“It is…?”

“You have to reject it in order for the carnations to return!”

I turned around to face her. A patch now replaced an eye. Her brown hair was long and messy.

“There is no way around it, Yuki…”

I found myself backing away. Aspen took two steps with every step back.

“Yuki… This field cannot be sustained. These May flowers are full of your grief for me…”

“But you’re alive, aren’t you?”

“Yuki, deep down, you know I’m not.”

“Aspen is never coming back, Yuki…”

“You know very well that I’ve been dead for a while now… and that it’s all your fault…”

“Stop…”

“Had you just been more careful…”

“Stop!”

“Had you just kept a closer eye on me…”

“STOP!”

I fell to my knees. Her cold voice continued on.

“... You wouldn’t have to dream of me. You would wake up every day to a world where I remain present.”

“ENOUGH!!!”

I screamed the strangled word through sobs as I buried my face into my hands.

…

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Her kind voice returned.

“You can make it up to me, though… and the carnations can return forever.”

I lowered my hands slowly.

“If you close the nightmare forever… if you leap like a little frog…”

She smiled.

“The next April showers will return to us our innocent May flowers…” 

Beep… Beep… Beep…

“I should’ve known she would do something like this!”

Beep… Beep… Beep…

“Calm down, ma’am. She’s going to be okay.”

Beep… Beep… Beep…

“Ever since we lost Aspen…”

Beep… Beep… Beep…

“How do you think her friends are doing?!”

Beep… Beep… Beep…

“Perhaps we need to intervene before they stray too far down the wrong path.”

Beep… Beep… Beep…

Pain… So much pain…

I opened my eyes to the sound of a monitor, and to a bright light, and to agony.

This is definitely not the field of flowers…

Was the nightmare my world after all?

“Yuki! Yuki!”

My mother’s voice… And she was crying her eyes out…

I hurt her so much with what I did… she’s never cried like this in her life…

The strongest woman I know… brought to tears because of me…

Why did I forget to consider her…?

I felt her arms carefully wrap around me.

“I’m so glad you’re alive, Yuki… never, ever do something like this again, you hear me?!”

I did my best to nod.

“You didn’t have to sleep your days away… You didn’t have to try and escape… Yuki, I’m so sorry for not acting sooner, but please… this was never the way to release your pain…”

She’s right… she’s absolutely right… I’m in agony now because of me, and she is so afraid because of me…

And none of this brought Aspen back… not a single day in that world really brought her back…

I tried to release just one word through a whisper.

“Sorry…”

“Oh, Yuki…”

She pulled me closer.

“I don’t hate you for the way your grief manifested… The only apology I need is for you to keep on living…

I cannot deny the pain, anger and terror that your actions caused me… but I’m so happy to hold you and hear you breathe…

But you took too big of a risk, my dear… no matter how bad it gets, no matter which friends you lose, you should never try to throw away your life like that!

… Though I feel that you understand it now.”

She smiled through her tears.

“From here on out, let’s discuss the things you’re feeling, okay…? We can talk about your grief and everything that comes with it… you can get help…”

I nodded, and then tears were rolling down my own eyes.

…

We cried April showers…

…

“May…”

“Eh?”

“Flowers…”

My mother shook her head with a sad chuckle.

“My dear, it is only November, though almost December… but in May, I will for sure buy you flowers. Please hold out until then, and beyond then, okay? Your life matters more than you realize… and Aspen would want you to stay here anyway.”

“... Okay…”

Aspen would want me to stay here…

…

Yeah… that sounds more like Aspen…

Staying here is probably the best way to make up for my negligence…

It is only here that I can still honor Aspen’s life…

It is only here that I can live in the first place…

“That house sucked,” Katie announced to the group. “Who even likes milk duds anyway?” I did, but I wasn’t about to voice my opinion when the rest of our group agreed with her. We had been out trick-or-treating for over an hour now, and it seemed everyone else in the state wanted the same thing when they picked this neighborhood: king-sized candy bars. This neighborhood was widely known to be the best for trick or treating, the best candy, and the best decorations, but by far the most crowded. “Hurry up, let's beat that group.”

I had to speed up to catch up to them. The five of us agreed we were going to do a group costume so we ended up dressing as characters from the Wizard of Oz, but I stopped caring about deciding on a costume weeks ago, which is how I got stuck dressing up as Wicked Witch.

The rest of the group was near running now to get to this house, but as I was trying to catch up to them my shoe slipped off. “Wait one…” they were too far ahead to hear me anyway. I sat down on the curb to slip my shoe back on, I hated these shoes but they were the only black shoes I could borrow from my sister that would go with my costume. I stood up but didn’t bother chasing my friends up the driveway, they would be back down to run to the next house eventually, so I just watched them hike to the front door. They got their candy, but instead of coming back down the driveway they were cutting across where I couldn’t see. Ugh. I started walking around, hoping to intercept them, the stupid shoes slowing me down. 

I cut around a corner, searching for them, but I didn’t know my way around this neighborhood and felt lost. I kept walking, frustrated and deciding I was about to just turn around and give up, but I heard what sounded like someone crying. I started turning around to head back to where I thought my friends were, but felt compelled to make sure whoever was crying was alright. I headed towards the sound and saw an older woman crying, then I realized she was in a cemetery next to someone's tombstone. I stopped moving, this was especially a bad idea on Halloween, let alone any other day. I slowly backtracked, trying to get out of there quickly, but she whipped around and saw me. She started sobbing harder now, “My husband died on Halloween,” she informed me between sobs. I nodded but was too scared to say anything. “I’m all alone.” Now that struck deep, I took a few more steps toward her, entering the cemetery and instantly regretting it. She was no longer an older woman, she was translucent. A ghost. I stopped breathing, I couldn’t move. She was no longer sobbing, instead a wicked smile spread across her face as she breathed, “Finally.” I could feel my own heart pounding as she came towards me, still frozen in place. My heart stopped as she placed her foggy hand on my cheek, smiling. “My punishment is over.” I struggled to take in oxygen, to remember how to breathe. Suddenly, behind her other ghosts started to take form, dozens of them. The ghost who had tricked me turned towards them, “Let’s go,” was all she said. And with that, they all floated out of the cemetery, into the neighborhood filled with children searching for candy. All I could do was drop to the ground. A dozen ghosts had just been released from their prison, and it was all my fault.

It was an elaborate trap, his best yet, he thought. He used materials he found in his house, his toys, and even items he found in the trash. He had been brainstorming for months on how to build the best Leprechaun trap so he could finally catch the Leprechaun. This year, even he thought he outdid himself. His younger sister stared at it in awe, sharing his older brother's hope that this would be the year they finally caught the Leprechaun. To make the trap, the boy utilized a paper towel roll tunnel for the Leprechaun to fall into, leading to a comfy shoe box with food, a bed, and a little cap of water. He had laid out some Irish potatoes to lure the Leprechaun to fall into his makeshift tunnel, into the shoe box to where the Leprechaun would hopefully be when he woke up the next morning. He checked to make sure everything was in place before reluctantly heading to bed, his own nerves and excitement keeping him awake listening for the tiny footsteps of the sneaky Leprechaun falling into his trap.

~

He was exhausted, running from home to home avoiding all the elaborate traps laid out for him while he left chocolate coins for those with the best efforts. This one house, however, the child had laid out quite the intricate trap, but he had plenty of experience dealing with complex traps and hopeful kids. The Leprechaun ate the Irish potato trail leading up to the tube, then jumped into the trap that had been laid out for him. The inside was cozy; a cotton ball bed, more food, and a tiny glass of water. The Leprechaun smiled at the effort this young boy had put in to capture him. He laid down on the bed, tempted to finally be caught, but he just left behind a small gift for the young boy before moving on to the next child’s attempt to catch the Leprechaun.

~

The young boy awoke, jumping out of bed once he remembered his trap downstairs. He sprinted down the stairs to find his line of Irish potatoes were gone, eaten by the Leprechaun. He slowly pulled back the lid of the shoe box, hoping to see the Leprechaun waiting in his trap, but only saw the same items he had placed there the night before. Disappointment hit him like a load of bricks until he realized the water and food he placed on the inside of the shoe box were gone, had been eaten. Then he saw the gold coin, real gold, that the Leprechaun must have left behind for him. He smiled as he decided that the Leprechaun would not be so lucky next year.

Snow cascaded down outside the window, the light from the moon reflecting off the particles of ice illuminating the world so the thick white blanket that had tucked the grass away for a long winter's nap appeared to be glowing. Inside the house, a fire warmed a small room where two young children played by the Christmas tree. Their elf on the shelf sat perched on the edge of the mantle closest to the tree. This had been his favorite spot he selected as he had the best view of the room while still being near the tree and was sitting over the fireplace. Tonight he would fly back to the North Pole, as it was Christmas Eve, leaving the family until next year. He watched the kids play together, nothing but acts of kindness and rude remarks between them.

A voice called out to them and they disappeared down the hallway into the kitchen. After a few minutes of muffled voices, they returned carrying a tray with a mug of milk and a plate with star shaped christmas cookies and carrots. The older girl placed them on the coffee table with a folded up piece of paper before they both went upstairs to get ready for bed. One of the parents flipped off the lights, but did the Elf on the Shelf move? He was supposed to go back to the North Pole, back home until the next Christmas, but he had always wondered what these children would find under the tree in the morning. This year, his curiosity got the best of him and he decided to stay. Hidden in a bundle of poinsettias, his red outfit matching perfectly with the deep red of the petals from the flower. Even as Santa Claus paid a brief visit to leave the children gifts, he remained still. The elf waited until morning, watching the sunrise slowly overpower the darkness of the night. Footsteps and muffled voices filled the silence before the booming of the children running down the stairs and crashing into the living room.

The elf watched them tear open presents, alternating between the two of them as their parents held out phones constantly snapping pictures of each of their surprised pictures everytime they realized what had been left for them under the tree. Their elf watched them unwrap toys, clothes, games, sweet treats, and more. They laughed and played with their new toys as their parents watched with big smiles stretching across their faces. 

After the initial Christmas morning had ended, the family went into the dining room to eat their breakfast together, the elf saw this as his perfect time to exit before the kids saw him, or Santa realized he was late. He crept out of the bouquet of flowers and flew up the chimney into the sky, those below would think he was a cardinal as he flew back home. As he soared across the sky, he couldn’t help but get excited to visit again next year!

Easter was on a beautiful Sunday with the sun shining bright, large puffy clouds that were sure to stay out of the way of the golden rays. All the kids in the neighborhood quickly grabbed their woven baskets and ran out the door despite their parents’ instructions to wait for them, but the kids were impatient and left anyway. All of them raced to the park in hopes of finding the one and only golden egg that the Easter Bunny left every year. Last year, a young girl named Annie found the prize and was awarded with a pet bunny she named Thumper. Every year the prize was different and everyone wanted to be the one to claim it.

All the children ran around looking in the tall grass, under the park benches, behind the slide, and around the tree collecting colored eggs filled with candy as they went. The older kids’ baskets were filled to the brim with plastic eggs, some even spilling over, while the younger kids only had a few. The eggs were filled with chocolates, jelly-beans, marshmallows, peanut candies, and more. Some, satisfied with their yield, sat down at the park benches to go through their batch and start eating the candy after having given up on finding the astonishing golden egg. 

The beautiful morning had turned into a hot afternoon with no golden eggs in sight. Many kids gave up to go home and celebrate the holiday with their families, but some still remained as they desperately wanted to find the golden egg and discover what this year's gift would be. One of these children, a younger boy, was looking near the creek in the woods. He wanted to find this egg and prove to the other kids that he could. He walked across the small bridge, eyes scanning the area for any glitter of gold he could possibly see. He had a few plastic eggs in his basket, some he had already eaten the sweets inside, and was completely focused on the golden egg now that the others had all been found. Something flashed a shine from the middle of the shallow creek and he ran to the edge to inspect. When he didn’t see anything he assumed it was only the reflection of the sun or a trick of the mind, but when he looked closer he saw it again. He ran off the bridge into the shallow creek and there he saw it. Lying right in front of him, the golden egg! He reached into the water quickly grabbing the egg before running back into the open field declaring his victory. All the kids were shocked, many disappointed they did not succeed at locating the golden egg while others congratulated him. They all gathered around in curiosity as he opened the egg revealing what was inside. It was....

A young girl sat on the stoop of her old cobble house shivering at the chill in the cold February air. The wind carried promises of love as arrows fired from Cupid's bow brought soulmates together at last. She watched silently as those who fell under Cupid's spell passed glances across the marketplace, their eyes meeting for fleeting moments before turning away as if not to draw attention to themselves. The ground was covered in a light dusting of shimmering snow, but here and there a yellow daffodil would poke up through the cracks of the sidewalk and rise above the snow reaching up towards the sun as if stretching after waking up from a long winter’s nap.

The young girl reached into her pocket and grabbed a small piece of candy she had stolen from her father’s desk. She pulled back the shiny gold foil to reveal a small ball of chocolate before popping it into her mouth, it tasted bitter with a sweet gooey center. She watched the flower vendors hold out bouquets of red roses yelling prices and persuasions to pedestrians wandering the marketplace. This was the busiest time of year for them and they were desperate to make the ultimate profit. While many vendors all appeared to be older men with the same red roses as the ones around them, one stood out from the rest, a young boy. Many rolled eyes at his young appearance and small figure, additionally due to the fact that his yield of handpicked daisies could not compare in the eyes of potential buyers to the preferred roses the others sold. With every person who walked by, the sparkle in his eyes dimmed and his energy dropped. He needed the money to provide for him and his little sister, but he knew his hand-picked daisies that he picked from the vast field behind the church would yield little profit. The young girl didn’t understand why everyone passed by so easily, what made roses so special to all these people? She stared at him as she pondered on the societal standards of gifts to represent love. 

The boy noticed the young girl sitting down across the street looking at him, but she quickly turned away once noticing he saw her staring. He smiled to himself before gathering his undesirable daisies in hand and started to cross the street. The young girl noticed him heading her way and debated on whether she should stand and wait or run into the house, deciding on the latter. She stood up to leave but her legs would not take the step inside. He walked towards her house climbing up the stoop until they were face to face. He held out the bouquet of daisies. She paused, unsure of what to do, but he plucked one daisy from the bundle and handed it to her. She laughed as she took it and tucked it behind her ear holding back her dirty blonde hair. She loved daisies, her favorite flower, her namesake.

Meghan Lepsis

The stair creaked underneath me and I froze. I listened for any other movement, but only heard the loud snore of my mother through the thin walls of my house, so I continued my way downstairs. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be up yet, let alone out of my bedroom, but I was too anxious to sleep. I reached the bottom of the steps and froze when I heard soft footsteps coming from the living room and the quiet rustle of paper. My heart was racing as I realized who was in my living room. I quickly and quietly turned to the kitchen, ducking behind the wall just before the living room. I peeked around the corner and saw a large old man in a bright red suit wearing his classic hat. His back was turned to me as he gobbled up the cookies and chugged the milk left out for him and placed the large orange carrots into a cloth bag. I leaned farther into the living room and the ground beneath me creaked and I barely saw him start to turn before I dove under the kitchen table. His footsteps came louder and closer as I saw his head look around the corner. His beard still held cookie crumbs and milk dripped from his lips. His cheeks were the color of roses and his face was covered in deep wrinkles. I blended into the dark shadows so he couldn’t see me. He scanned the room one last time, his eyes catching something sitting on the table above me. He walked closer and my heart nearly exploded out of my chest. Shiny black boots were in my face so close I could reach out and touch them. I heard him rustle a piece of paper. My letter. I knew because I had written it and forgot it was there after hearing my parents fighting in the living room. I couldn’t listen to it any longer and ran upstairs. They were always fighting, anything they ever said to each other was screamed with hands flying in the air. My letter asked for one thing, I wanted my parents to stop fighting. He sighed and I watched drops of white fire fall to his feet from his hands. Christmas magic. He snickered and walked back into the living room. I leaped from under the table and followed him, but I only saw the magic dust fall from the chimney. He was gone, but the tree glistened with an extra sparkle now and was surrounded by glittering boxes.

I bolted awake. Had that all been a dream or did I really see Santa Claus in my living room? My brother rushed into my room pouncing on my bed yelling for me to come downstairs, that Santa had come. I quickly followed him downstairs and around the corner to see our luscious Christmas tree with colorful boxes covering the floor. He ran to one wrapped in shiny blue paper with light clouds drawn on it and tore it open so fast I thought he might break it. He gasped with delight when he saw a toy truck and immediately laughed in joy. I walked over and sat beside him and picked up a box of my own, wrapped in glittery purple, my favorite color. When I tore it open I saw dust of Christmas magic fly off which immediately confused me. I didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought before my parents came down holding hands and smiling. This surprised me as they weren’t fighting, instead, they looked truly happy. I continued unwrapping my gift to see an art kit, exactly what I had asked for. My parents sat down on the couch and told us, “Merry Christmas”. Still, not a harsh word was spoken nor had a hand flew in the air. They looked at each other without fierceness or anger, but joy and love. I glanced at the wall where we had a picture of Santa and I can almost swear the eye twitched. Did Santa blink at me? A soft laugh escaped my throat and I knew it hadn’t been a dream. I knew he read my letter.