Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-34823985-20181116105245

It was a white Christmas and people all over the neighborhood were busily unwrapping their presents. Video games, dolls, and all sorts of toys for the children. Clothes, tools, and all kinds of items ranging all along the spectrum from practical to frivolous for the adults. Just down the street, Mr. Clemens was waiting for his parents to take their grandkids to see a movie, so he could unwrap his wife. It was one of the more naughty traditions of the holiday, but certainly, nothing that would get the two of them put on any list.

All along cozy little May Street people were happy and content except for one household. That's right, in one house near the dead end was a family that didn't wake up early to unwrap their presents. In fact, the Christmas lights on the house and tree hadn't been lit up in quite a while. No cookies and milk had been set out for Santa the night before and the cat hadn't eaten in almost three days. No smoke escaped into the clear Winter sky from the chimney and anyone that may choose to visit on such a joyous holiday will have to park in the street because the snow is piled up too high in the driveway.

The delicious scents of turkeys and hams wafted from ovens all along May Street. The Smiths and the Rogers have just set out freshly baked Christmas cookies. "Don't touch those yet, Jimmy," said his father, "They're still too hot to eat." A bubbling red sauce was cooking on the stove in the Mancini household while spicy meatballs sizzled in the oven. No wondrous scents floated through the cold kitchen towards the end of the street. Nothing but a strange smell that even the most inexperienced person would recognize immediately.

The decorations were all laid out, but no one was there to enjoy them. Eventually, someone is going to come along and peek through the window. Some curious neighbor or worried family member will stop by one day soon. The presents under the tree laid there untouched. The decorations had been set up so carefully, but just sit there unadmired and collecting dust.

Someone very soon is going to wipe the frost away from the front window and look into the living room. They will see everything in its proper place, especially the Stockings. They will peer into the cold little house on May Street and see Mr. and Mrs. Stocking and their two children, Elizabeth, and Jacob. They will see that they have been hung from the chimney with care. 