Silent night holy night," the neighborhood kids stood outside my window with white crystal snow falling onto the ground.
"One thing I hated more than kids was Christmas."

"Silent Night," their voices got louder. I could tell their little teeth were clattering from the December cold.
"That's enough," I opened the door, displaying the most hateful look.
"Get off my property before I eat you for dinner," I smiled, hearing the foot racing in the snow.
I turned around to go back to my house.
"Ma'am," a little girl's voice shook.
I turned around, seeing her whole body shake with fear.
"Ma'am, Santa is in your house," she pointed at my house.
"Scram Brat," I picked up a rock and aimed to throw it.
"Mommy," she screamed, running away.
"Like I thought," I slammed the door.

I couldn't wait until Christmas was over, the singing, the happiness, the snow.
I had hated Christmas since I was a child.
My parents would never give me the gift I wanted.
Every Christmas I would go and see the mall Santa and sit on his lap, telling him everything my heart desires and wake up disappointed.
My lousy husband would always say that family was the only thing that mattered every time I asked him to buy me an expensive Christmas present.
It wasn't my fault that I hated Christmas. It was theirs.

"Where did that come from?"
I stared at the little Christmas tree that now stood in the corner.
The evidence of snow crawled through my house like breadcrumbs left for Hansel and Gretel.
"Where did that come from?" I went to the kitchen, seeing my backdoor still close.
"Children, if this is a damn prank, I will eat you for dinner and breakfast," I said, expecting them to run.
I heard bells jingle coming from upstairs. I ran up as fast as I could to catch the sneaky kids.
"Get out of my house before I call the cops," The bells came rolling down, causing me to fall back down. I felt the pain in my back as I lay there.

"I wished you a Merry Christmas," a deep voice said.
I saw a chubby man dressed in a Santa Claus suit. His cheek was rosy red and his hair looked like white clouds.
His smile wasn't as inviting.

"Bad people get coals," he swipes the fire poker across my neck.
He dragged me to the Christmas tree while I fought to get away. I felt myself fighting to stay conscious as the Christmas lights were tightly wrapped around my body.

"Bad People get coal," he opened my mouth, placing hot coal on my tongue.
I struggled to free myself as my parents, husband, and the mall Santa walked toward me.

Merry Christmas, She Grinch," He said, walking out toward the door.

"Don't worry, the neighbors know where to find their heads," he tilted his head toward the refrigerator where I had been keeping them for years.
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