Merry almost Christmas, everyone! We’re all having a good holiday week, right? *don’t throw things at me!*
Okay, okay, for those still dealing with crowded stores, last minute shoppers, and crazy, impatient drivers, and those who already have all their holiday stuff done (really? people actually finish before midnight on Christmas Eve??), here’s a little holiday Free Fiction Thursday story to take your mind off the seasonal madness.
In this week’s story, life hasn’t been the same for Roger since his grandmother moved in. First she took his room, and now she’s about to ruin Christmas! Unless Roger catches Santa on Christmas Eve and makes one last wish, this will be the worst Christmas ever.
Roger’s Christmas Wish
Published by Thunder Valley Press
Copyright 2010 by Annie Reed
Roger couldn’t sleep.
It was Christmas Eve. He was supposed to be asleep already — mom always said Santa wouldn’t come unless he was sleeping — but Roger was too nervous.
He planned to wake up after everyone else fell asleep so he could go sit in the living room by the Christmas tree and wait for Santa. He even had his alarm clock set for two in the morning because he was pretty sure that’s when Santa would be there. Last year Roger snuck out into the living room at three, but the cookies and milk his mom had left out for Santa were already gone, and Roger’s stocking was stuffed full of little wrapped presents. Two o’clock had to be the right time, it just had to be. This year was too important. He couldn’t miss Santa again.
Roger had stashed his wind-up clock under his pillow so that he’d be the only one to hear the alarm when the little hammer beat on the bells. If the alarm woke up his parents, much less his grandmother, Roger would be in big time trouble.
No kid wanted to get in trouble right before Christmas, especially not on Christmas Eve. Roger didn’t want to take the chance that Santa might cancel Christmas. Things were already bad enough at his house. He didn’t think he could stand it if Santa decided he was a bad little boy this year.
His mom’s Bing Crosby Christmas album was playing on the record player in the kitchen. Roger’s mom played that album every year on Christmas Eve. The room Roger slept in now was just off the kitchen, and the wall between his room and the kitchen didn’t go all the way up to the ceiling. The songs sounded scratchy and his mom had the volume set lower than she usually did. Still, Bing Crosby singing Christmas carols always meant Santa was on his way.
Roger knew he was a little old to believe in Santa. Some of his friends didn’t believe anymore. They teased him and called him a baby, especially Eddie from down the block.
Eddie was bigger than anyone else in the second grade. He had three older sisters who all acted like tomboys, according to Roger’s mom. Eddie said parents did all the Santa stuff when kids were asleep. He double dared Roger to look under his parents’ bed or in the back of their closet. Eddie said if Roger had the guts to look, he’d find all the presents his parents would say came from Santa.
The day Eddie from down the block said all that stuff, Roger did the hardest thing he’d ever done since the day second grade started. Even harder that the What I Did On My Summer Vacation paper he had to write at the beginning of the school year.
Roger had turned his back on a double dare and walked away.
His face had burned with shame. Everyone would think he was a coward, but Santa had to be real, he just had to be. Roger had already prayed to God for what he wanted, and that hadn’t worked. Santa was his last resort.
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