Young Writers Society

*This is part three of my “25 classy Christmas tales” stories. Gacha Club character designs are under my forum titled “My character designs<33”. Enjoy!*

Tale Fourteen-Christmas Day morning

Paola rubbed the sleep off her eyes as she walked into the living room, wanting to be in her best shape when everyone else woke up.

The living room had its red velvet curtains drawn over the wide windows, but the curtains didn’t cover the windows completely and Paola could see with her own eyes the snow that was gathering on the ground. The Christmas tree stood tall with tinsel and ornaments, the scent of pine wafted in the air. Underneath the tree, Paola could see neatly wrapped presents with shining paper and twirly bows, politely waiting to be unraveled.

She wasn’t supposed to be awake at the time, she was supposed to wait, but the thought of what waited underneath the tree was too much to make her want to be patient, she just had to get up!

The room was dark, save for the sliver of light from the slightly open curtains. Paola could see the silhouettes of everything just fine, she just needed to find the lamp.

No lamp…no lamp….there! The lamp that stood next to the fireplace!

She ran towards the lamp and pulled on the string, admiring how the light shone cherubically from the white lace lampshade. Everything in Paola’s mansion was pretty, but the lace lamp was the prettiest! It made her think of mother’s wedding dress with the poofs and pearls, the kind of dress that flowed and made any lady look like a Princess. Most importantly, the lamp was something that Paola thought Yamileth would like.

Yamileth was an ice angel that her family said only took people she thought was worthy. Paola had cousins of her own get sent to Yamileth. She hadn’t seen them since then, but that was because they were “blessed” and “in a better place” according to her family. They also said that Yamileth liked material gifts that looked “dainty” like something a “proper woman” would want.

Perhaps Yamileth would come and make her Christmas more magical with her presence!

Paola ran towards the Christmas tree and surveyed the presents with a gleeful grin, trying her best to decide which one to open first. Each and every one of them looked so enticing, so interesting…

Her eyes fell upon a box that her name on the tag with gold wrapping paper and a big red bow, a box that wasn’t bigger than any of the others or more grand, but it still sparkled like a gem.

She knelt at the bottom of the tree and grabbed the gold box, eagerly ripping apart its paper to find the hidden treasure. It was very very early in the morning, but certainly, her family wouldn’t mind if she opened one present before everybody else.

Under the wrapping paper was an oak wooden box with springtime flowers carved onto the surface, its stems vivid green and its petals richly colored.

But what was in the box? Was it as lovely as the box itself?

Paola opened the lid and beamed from ear to ear when she found a wooden ballerina marionette in a snow-white tutu and big blue eyes grinning up at her, waiting to be hugged and loved dearly.

She embraced the ballerina in her arms, the feeling of the special kind of bliss that only came on Christmas Day washing over her, making her heart so, so light! Why, she’d think of a perfect name for her new friend! Then they would play so many wonderful games and so many fantastic ballet dances together! She would take the ballerina everywhere and make sure that she was never left out! Maybe Paola, the doll and Yamileth could be best friends! If that happened, then they could all be Princesses with one another and live gracefully in a castle where all sorts of delightful fairytale adventures happened and there were never any horrible feelings and-

“Yamileth will appreciate a pure child such as yourself.” Mommy’s voice said, her arms wrapped around Paola.

Before Paola could turn around or say a word, she felt the end of something jagged plunge into her chest, her whole body began to ache, like all of her bones were being plucked out of her at the same time, she held onto her doll as tightly as she could and then she saw….

Mommy holding a bloodstained knife, a frown on her face? But why the knife? She certainly couldn’t have….right?

Tears stung Paola’s eyes as they closed shut, her heart bubbling with blood that reached her throat, her head burning with questions that felt it would go on and loop forever and ever and ever…

Why why why?

Tale Fifteen-Poinsettia garden

“Not too far, Vietta! Remember, it’s just the two of us! Nobody else is here!” Fiore called out.

He had taken his daughter, Vietta, out to the local poinsettia garden for Christmas Eve. Just as she did every year, she ran ahead of him, ever so excited to see the red, jagged-petal flowers.

The snow had gathered all around the poinsettias, creating a vast, cream-colored landscape. Dustings of snowflakes decorated the poinsettias, like sugar on a cake. It was still early in the morning, so the sky was in pale shades of pink and blue. They went to the poinsettia garden every Christmas Eve and there were usually a few smatterings of people around, but on that particular Christmas Eve, nobody but them was around.

All of it was so peaceful and picturesque that he could almost forget how he had found Vietta many years ago, when she was four years old.

It was Christmas Eve night. Fiore was lying in bed, waiting for the shadow of sleep to fall upon him. Though he lived alone, he still tried to make things as bright as they were when he was a child, so he decorated his house for Christmas and tried to keep the spirit alive.

He felt his eyelids grow heavier and heavier…

KNOCK KNOCK

What was that? That sound of knocking against the brick exterior walls of his house? Could it just be the tree branches moving with the wind or-

KNOCK KNOCK

But it wasn’t a windy night! Ah, what would the harm be in going outside?

Fiore pushed away the covers and ran down the stairs, slamming open the door and running to the bitter cold in only his pajamas, his heart racing as he had never heard such a loud knocking before.

There was indeed no wind, but where was the knocking noise coming from? Why did it keep going on? What was going on?

Fiore walked closer and closer to the noise until he could hear it right behind him, so he turned around and…

Why was there a little girl in his yard? She wasn’t wearing a coat either. She was only wearing a pink long sleeve and matching pants set of pajamas, her feet were covered by black-eyed bunny slippers and in her hand, she held a poinsettia. She looked to be about four years old.

“Who are you? What are you doing out here? Where is your family?” Fiore asked, concern swirling all around in him.

The little girl swallowed hard, then said:

“I’m Vietta. Can I stay here? They don’t want me.”

“They” must have been her family or whoever she was running from. If she wanted to tell him more about her life, she would, but he wouldn’t leave her outside, that was for sure.

“Of course! I’m Fiore.” He said with a smile.

Vietta got up from the ground and joined him, a wide grin on her face, her eyes lighting up like a lamp in a dark room.

Vietta was eight years old and she still didn’t tell him anything about where she came from, but Fiore didn’t pry. He knew that she was a sweet girl who loved poinsettias and so he was content to have her in his life.

Vietta stopped running and stood still, extending her small hand out to him. Fiore accepted her hand and walked on with her, glad that he could share such a wholesome moment with a kind soul.

“Daddy, have you ever seen angels?” Vietta suddenly asked.

Fiore mused over the question for a bit. Vietta had taken to calling him “Daddy” for quite some time, so that showed she trusted and loved him deeply enough. He had to give an answer to such a question carefully, as it could be connected to her history and he didn’t want to break the bond that they had.

“I have not, but maybe one day I will. Why do you ask?” Fiore asked, hoping that she wouldn’t go silent like she had in the past.

Vietta shrugged and said:

“I thought that since an angel follows me then it would follow you too but I guess I was wrong.”

An angel? What angel? Was it an imaginary friend? It must have been, for it certainly could not have been anything else, it couldn’t-

“The angel is here! Daddy, you can meet her!” Vietta cried out ecstatically, pointing to something in the distance.

She let go of him and ran off, Fiore desperately following her, his heart racing just like it did when he first found her.

He didn’t see anybody else in the poinsettia garden but the two of them, so why did she run like something else was there? She couldn’t run too far or else he would lose her and he couldn’t lose her to the shivering elements and and-

Fiore kept running and running for hours and hours, but still, he didn’t find Vietta.

Wherever could she have run off to?

Tale Sixteen-In the night sky

High up in the night sky

Along with the stars and the moon

There’s a faerie in multicolored lights watching with wide eyes

She hangs through the silken threads of the moon

And only comes on Christmas Eve night

One can’t see her amongst the stars and their shine

But if they were to look closely they would see

A Christmas string light faerie

Her purpose is to bring good spirits to all

To bring the smiles that the soul of Christmas sings about

She comes from the wishes of children and the children at heart

Her name is Nathalia

She knows that Christmas connection is a work of art

Tale Seventeen-Christmas’ mystery

Lark stared at the doorknob, trying to decide his best course of action. It was Christmas Day morning and he had waken up in the backyard of a highly decorated house that he and his parents used to visit when he was younger, before it had all become too much for them. Not only that, but it was snowing. Lark hadn’t seen snow in many years due to climate change, but he knew that the snow came from Rhodes, the strange man from Lark’s dream.

It had all been so remarkable, except there was one glaring problem: Lark’s parents wouldn’t believe him.

He was standing outside of his house, the front door was probably locked. Even if he knocked, his parents would end up finding him outside and then they’d ask the questions. They’d want to know why he was outside, where he got the coat from, who took him, because they would never believe a story about a magical man from his dreams.

So he stood there, trying to decide what to do, knowing that he couldn’t stand there forever but that he also couldn’t bother his parents, when suddenly, he felt himself lifting up higher and higher into the sky, everything had blanked into flurries of snowflakes that had collected and built up into a cloud, then….

Lark was lying in bed, the coat was all gone. He could hear his parents talking downstairs, no doubt getting ready to wake him up.

Even though the coat was gone and he was still lying in bed, Lark still felt the sense that it wasn’t all a dream, that he had really met Rhodes. It was clear and true, just like the fact that he had skin on his bones and blood in his veins.

There was a flickering sense his heart that there were fantastical things to come, more occurrences like the one with Rhodes. Lark couldn’t explain in words why or how he felt so much happier, but he did.

He lay in bed, waiting for his parents to wake him up, as though nothing had happened at all.

Tale Eighteen-Take refuge

Novalie drew her cloak’s hoodie up her face, never once stopping. The town’s army was a vicious and relentless one, they would stop to rest. Not even on Christmas Eve.

Her whole town believed in the existence of a being they called an angel, a creature of snow and ice who they called “Yamileth” and that she, Yamileth, the creature, liked it when little girls were sacrificed to her, offered to her. They were going to take Novalie’s younger cousin, Nathalia, to Yamileth on Christmas Eve, but Novalie sent her away with her older brother, Waylen, with stuff packed for them in bags.

Novalie denied having anything to do with the disappearances of Waylen and Nathalia, but all the same, the town still believed that she sent them away. After all, Novalie did publicly say numerous times that it “wouldn’t make life better to kill a little girl”, so of course they suspected that she had something to do with it.

Her legs were quite weary from running, like they would break apart at any second. She would have to stop at one point, but she didn’t want to stop until she couldn’t hear the voices of the soldiers anymore, until she was so faraway that no one else could ever find her.

Tears blurred at her eyes, her heart felt all twisted inside, but she would not stop until she was certain that she was alone.

Would she be able to return home? If she did come back, then wouldn’t the soldiers wait for her? Maybe it was the right thing, to give herself up to them. But then, if she died, then people might be too scared to challenge the harmful ideas and nobody would do anything. Not only that, but she didn’t want to die. She wanted to find the beauty hidden in the misery, the beauty that had to exist somewhere, because her parents always told her that if there were bad things in life, then there were good things as well. That one could not exist without the other. What if Waylen and Nathalia ran into her? Then perhaps they could all live happily together until she thought of a foolproof plan to stop the soldiers and the sacrifices for good. Maybe Nathalia and Waylen were safer than her. As long as they were okay, then that would be enough to keep her calm.

Novalie stopped. She listened closely, intently. The sounds of the soldiers’ voices and footsteps were gone, there was only the whistle of the wind and the birds’ chirps.

Right in front of her was a cottage covered in snow, a single candle lit by the window. If it was a cottage in the woods, then there was a chance that whoever lived there probably didn’t know anyone in town, including Novalie.

She walked towards the cottage, taking her chances that whoever would be kind enough to let her stop by.

…………………………………………………………………

Upon entering the cottage, Novalie was greeted by the serene scent of pine. She was standing in a living room with two armchairs in beige cloth. A rug knit of gray and white thread was on the hardwood floor, the neatly polished hardwood floor that had no splinters whatsoever, unlike most of the homes in Novalie’s town.

By the window was a candle with one single flickering flame, the goopy white candle wax, like cream, melting on the gray candlestick. Around the candlestick was a holly branch and a red ribbon, bringing a smattering of Christmas color to the subdued yellow and white toned cottage.

There was a fireplace that glowed with twisting flames that looked as though they would reach out in the forms of hands to comfort any soul that came close. Looking at the fireplace just made Novalie want to reach her hands out and warm herself, so she walked up to the fireplace and crouched, keeping her hands at a good distance from the flames so that she wouldn’t burn herself but just so she would still feel the lulling heat of the hearth, like when she was a child and would grab layers upon layers of blankets to keep herself warm and then stare out the window, watching the birds sing and the foxes run and-

“What’s your name?” A woman’s voice suddenly asked from behind her.

Novalie turned around. Standing right behind her was a woman who looked to be around Novalie’s age with deep violet eyes and long dark brown hair that almost looked black if one didn’t look hard enough. Her sky blue and had ruffles cut along the fabric in such a way that made the cloth look like waves and her dress bloomed out in a way that made her look like royalty, except her face lacked any of the harsh, cruel lines that those with much money and no soul had.

“Y-you’re not opposed to me staying here?” Novalie asked, surprised that the woman didn’t seem upset with a trespasser, but still wary on what she should tell her. After all, from the words of her parents, people revealed far too much to those they deemed beautiful.

The woman smiled, her lush, pale lips rising up like the white foam that curled in lakes and said in a voice that had the melody of harp strings:

“My parents taught me to always help those who need it. You don’t need to tell me your whole story if it discomforts you. I know that you are a traveler in need just by looking at you. I only ask for your name so that we can know each other better. I am Casiane.”

Casiane. Casiane. A name like that sounded like flowers growing in a graveyard, life bringing vibrance to all that was bleak.

It was a name she wouldn’t forget.

“I’m Novalie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She said, the cold on her skin and in her body melting away from the warmth of the fire and Casiane’s sweet smile.

“The feeling is mutual.” Casiane said with a bow.

“Now, make yourself at home while I prepare something for you to eat. You certainly must be tired with how worn your eyes look.” Casiane said after getting up from the bow.

Novalie got up from her spot by the fire and sat on a nearby armchair, hardly believing how lucky she was to find someone who wanted to help her and didn’t even ask Novalie anything about herself but her name.

Maybe she could relax. Maybe if Casiane was willing to let her stay, then Novalie would live and get a plan and the courage to stop little girls from being sacrificed for good.

Maybe Casiane was an angel. Novalie wouldn’t say it was too far off, considering Casiane’s beauty and kindness. All angels were pleasant inside and out, were they not? Maybe Casiane was an angel and she would help bless Novalie on her journey.

Angel or no angel, Novalie let Casiane’s giving gesture seep into her soul and heart, making a note to never forget the care that Casiane displayed, the care that Novalie wished to see every day, not just for Christmas. Especially for the little girls.

A tear dripped from Novalie’s eye, but she wiped it off, not wanting to alarm the host. Novalie’s worries were her burden to carry, not Casiane’s.

Things would hopefully become better if she fought for them.

Tale Nineteen-Snowflake sorrows

Some time ago

In a Christmas Eve where the lights were from fireplaces and candle flames

In a time when the world seemed to go by in a way that sung like a serene song

Rhodes held his love, Nelle, close to him

They both walked deep into the woods

Far from the eyes and ears of humanity

They held each other close, but the roads got far too long

The path stretched on and on

Nothing made a speck of sense

The world seemed to melt into a complete dream

And when Rhodes looked next to him, Nelle was gone

He tried to find his way out

But the ice and snow had gotten to him

His body lay limp against a bare tree

Yet his spirit is still out there, intent to bring the glory of Christmas to others

Hoping that one day, he could find Nelle

And stop his curse of wandering the Earth

Tale Twenty-In the town of Bleaksville

Far off on a hill, there was a little town over the water called “Bleaksville”. Contrary to the town’s name, Bleaksville was alive and rich with color and celebration. Everyone took the time to make the most out of everything, especially during Christmas time.

From ice skating to hot cocoa to mistletoes to Christmas pastries, the time for joy and love was endless!

But not a single soul was excited for Christmas more than petite ten year old Jamie. Yes, Jamie was ten years old, but such a frail, soft-spoken little thing that most mistook her to be six years old. It wasn’t something that Jamie liked very much, to be looked at something that needed to be watched over, but she usually ignored it and went about with her life, trying to do what made her happy without letting the words of others bother her. It wasn’t easy, but she tried.

It was on one cold Christmas Eve night that all changed for Bleaksville, especially for little Jamie.

On that night, Jamie was ice-skating at the town’s only ice-skating rink. She was all alone, for her parents fast asleep and had no idea she was outside. But that was alright, because Jamie liked being alone, for it meant that there was nobody around to bat their eyes and talk to her like she was a baby, saying things like “You’re such a genius!” when she said basic things and “Aren’t you just an adorable doll?” when she came out more dressed up than usual.

It was absolutely infuriating and she just needed a chance to get away from it all, so if that was in the form of hanging out at town all alone, then so be it!

On the ice, she could simply just exist and skate as she wished…

However, there was a persistent banging underneath the ice that slightly worried her. It would bump against the ice every second and it was not doing it in a way that synchronized with her skating, so she knew that it was not her.

Jamie tried her best to ignore it, just like she did with the words of the Bleaksville residents, but it only got louder and louder, so loud that her own worry had grown within her, until finally, she stopped and stared at the ice.

There was nothing at first, but then a rather disquieting looking little girl with weak skin that looked as though it would bleed forever BANGED! against the ice.

Though an ice barrier separated Jamie from the little girl’s voice on the other side, distorted a bit from the ice, but still as clear as Christmas bells:

“They hated to hear my cries so they left me to freeze in ice! Now on Yuletide, I’ll bring their fears to life!”

Jamie didn’t understand the little girl’s words, but so overcome with terror was she with the fury what was said that she ran out of the rink, screaming of what she had seen as she ran throughout town.

But everybody was trying to sleep and anybody that woke up did not believe the words of a small child up past their bedtime.

Thus, the town of Bleaksville had sunk into the water on Christmas Eve, finally living up to its name and drowning out everyone’s screams.

Tale Twenty-One-Christmas belongs at home

Lilia held onto the angel’s misty hand, hardly believing her luck! She and her older brother, Aize, were being saved by an angel! After so long of being in a house that looked like theirs but was not, a house that lacked their parents, they were free! It was just like her favorite Christmas tale, titled “The angel Allie’s visit”, about a little girl who was quite gloomy and alone until Allie came and made her happy again, giving her a friendship that she would treasure forever!

If Lilia remembered the story correctly, then it read as:

“Once upon a time, there was a little girl called “Posie” who loved to dance on the ice-skating rink, dreaming of an audience that would applause for Posie and only Posie.

For Posie had no friends in the world and she was a rather lonely child, always searching for a chance to have friends but never once finding any.

Posie was used to being alone all her life, but still, she would have appreciated it if she had gotten friends, if she had gotten people to love her, to want to be with her. Especially on a special day like Christmas Eve.

In fact, it was on a Christmas Eve that Posie had seen a blue glowing light by the ice that grew and grew and grew until it had become a woman in a flowing white dress and a matching white veil that covered her face in a way that made Posie think of brides and their timeless majesty.

Long, white, feathery wings flowed from the woman’s back, which could only mean one, undeniable thing…

“Hello there, little girl. I’m Allie and I am angel. Worry not, sweet child. I only seek to bring love and light. Whatever is your name?” Allie asked.

Posie kept rubbing her eyes, trying to erase the image of Allie, but Allie stayed right where she was, never once fading from her sight.

Her heart had lifted with happiness as she and Allie danced alongside one another, sharing stories of all things magic and misery, celebration and sadness, love and madness. Anything good and anything bad let Posie know that she was loved, but still, there was an itch in her heart that worried about what would happen when Allie left and then…

The angel smiled upon the child and gave her a kiss on the head, blessing her with infinite joy like no other.”

A tale like that let Lilia know that there were always angels around to help. Her parents would say that sometimes, angels did not appear with wings, but that they would be the ones to truly care for others. Good-natured people were the ones who were closer to angels, they would often add.

It was a nice ending to a sweet short story that Lilia held dear to her heart to keep her believing in the beauty interwoven in the world, but it didn’t answer her questions on why the angel took so long to find them, why they were in the strange house at all. Only bad kids deserved to have bad things happen to them, that was what her parents always told her.

So why were she and Aize trapped if they didn’t deserve it? What was the point of it? Why why why?

The blur of snow faded from Lilia’s eyes. What replaced it was a house that had a single candle burning by the window, glowing warmly just as it did in the other house, except Mommy opened the front door, waving her and Aize over with a wide smile and teary eyes.

Lilia turned towards the angel, about to ask the angel why they were trapped at all, where they were trapped, how the angel knew exactly what their parents looked like…

But the angel was gone and so Aize took Lilia’s hand, the both of them running towards home, their real home, their home with their parents who loved them with all their hearts, throughout the snow they ran, shared laughter ringing throughout their lips.

For Christmas truly belonged at home.

Tale Twenty-Two-Ice ballet

Posie was one of the sweetest children around

She always knew how to make smiles abound

Many people loved her so

Which was why they thought she had to go

On Christmas Eve night

They would take out the knife

Oh, how little Posie feared for her life!

She ran to the only place where she felt safe

A frozen-over pond tucked away by trees

She took out her ice skates and glided with ease

All by herself, she forgot her woes

It was an ice ballet for her and for her alone!

But alas, the town had found her!

And they rushed to stick a knife inside her

She tried to run but slipped and fell

A hand reached out, she thought it was to safety

Then the dreaded knife was stabbed through her wrist

Posie lost her grip, she sunk into the freezing cold

That Christmas Eve, poor Posie was no more

Tale Twenty-Three-Aviva and her dolls

Aviva and her dolls

Oh, how they were so close!

She got them all on Christmas Day!

The people around never made her feel sound

Aviva tried to ignore them with the love of her dolls

But no one ever saw her as truly human

They thought she was quite absurd

Time went on

Aviva lost her joy, her smile melted away

Nothing seemed right to her, the world had gotten a whole lot crueler

No longer a softly smiling child, but a hunched over old woman

She screeched and screamed at passerby

They still saw her as a joke, they still didn’t want to be her friend

But maybe, in her heart of hearts

She still holds that Christmas love

For her dolls and perhaps

For the world around her

Tale Twenty-Four-Grant’s secret

Grant was never one to talk much

He kept himself closed up

Fingers were close to his chest, they looked like claws

Parker was his only friend

The only one who’d stay in the end

No matter how hard it got, Parker would never leave him to rot

For he saw a certain kind of joy in Grant that not many could know

And on Christmas Eve

He’d always play with Grant in the snow

Always, until the end of their lives

Tale Twenty-Five-Christmas closeness

Layna met a friend on Christmas Day

She’s made from ice and snow

Her friend is a faerie from the winter

She’s full of magic and light

She can’t stay forever

But she said that she’d come back

Layna’s dear friend Flykra

The winter faerie of Christmas Day

Layna never told a soul about her friend

That bond is between the two of them

And hopefully it doesn’t fade away

Scary Creepmas, dear friends!

It’s been a ghoulish sleigh ride

But now the time has come to an end

And it’s up to us to stay close

For Christmas ain’t once a day

It’s in all of us and it’s here to stay