It Had to be Santa

December 3, 2009
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The rusty minute hand lies on the 12, parallel to the hour hand. He sings his chimes, as he always does when another hour has past. I wearily look up to the grandfather clock. I smile to myself, just a little, and think it's midnight. I sit up into a slump, and get up. I fold my blanket, and return it to its rightful place. I peep around the corner to make sure noone is eavesdropping. Tiptoeing is how my feet carried me to the kitchen. The aroma of the chocolate chip cookies filled my nostrils with a sensational rush that restored my energy. I walked past the kitchen, to the dim lit living room. In the corner, I saw the Guatemala tree with its shiny decorations. My eyes lit up like the gleamng lights in front of me. The corners of my mouth curled up, as a smile crept its way up to my cheeks. I heard soft footsteps, and dashed to the big chair my grandpa got my dad for an arly Christmas present. I see a man in a cherry red suit, with coal black boots, and a hat, with a puffy white ball at the end reminding me of cotton fields. I see a bag with lumps all over it, with objects trying to poke out. He swiftly opens the bag, and without hesitation, unloads boxes and boxes of sparkling gifts. I just sat there and watched in envy, as I wished to know what was inside. I glanced at the clock, and turned my attention back to the man who I thought was Santa Clause. Chills were now going down my spine, and the hair on my back stood up. I couldn't believe it; i was in utter shock. He was just standing right there. I sprint to the couch to search for him. As I'm crouching, I notice I'm closer to the gifts. "Open me, open me!" I heard. These words were scratching and clawing their way to get in my head. I quickly set them aside as fast as they came in. I knew I had bigger problems. I go to the kitchen, and the aroma was no longer there. The plate stacked high with cookies was now gone. There wasn't a single morsel left behing. I smirk, and tink, it had to be Santa!

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