All I Want For Christmas (One Direction) ((ON HOLD))

The Reply

*Krystal POV*

I was sitting by the small fire in our trailer, trying to keep warm, when I heard the mail truck stop, and then drive away. I forced myself to stand, trying to stay balanced on numb feet, and darted outside. I reached the mailbox, and threw it open. Inside was a neat letter with an international stamp on it. My heart leapt into my throat, and snatched it with stiff fingers. On the front, it was addressed to Miss Krystal Isaak in nice, neat handwriting. I raced back to the house and sat by the fire once more, fumbling to open it. Finally, I managed to force it open without tearing it, and pulled the crisp paper out. I unfolded it, and began to read.

Dear Krystal

We received your letter, and we were touched. We didn’t hear about the tornadoes that hit your area, and we’re sorry to hear it. We hope that everyone is okay.

We were inspired by your letter, and we spoke with our management. We thought that a benefit would be a brilliant idea, and they agreed. We have arranged to perform at the drill field of Virginia Tech in Blacksburg. All of our proceeds will go to Pulaski and Montgomery counties. The concert has been set for the 22 of December as a holiday gift of sorts.

We will be flying in on the 19 of December, and would like to spend the majority of our time leading up to the concert with you. You inspired us all, and we’d like very much to meet you in person and get to know you.

We are currently spreading word of the benefit, and we encourage you to the same. We will see you soon.

Sincerely,

Zayn Malik, Liam Payne, Niall Horan, Harry Styles, and Louis Tomlinson

I stared in awe. They actually replied. They all signed the bottom. They’re taking my advice. They want to meet me.

That last statement kept repeating itself in my mind, and I raced to my mom’s room, avoid the large pile of snow in the middle of the kitchen. She found her lying in bed, and gently awoke her.

“Mom. Mom. Mooooom. Mommy. Momma. Mother. Madre. Mére. Mom!”

“What, Krystal!?” She snapped, and I flinched.

“Sorry. But do you know today’s date?”

“The 19th. Why?” She eyed me suspiciously as I started dancing around the room. Grinning ear to ear, I shoved the letter into her face.

“One Direction! They’re coming! They want to meet me! They saw my letter and are having a benefit! Oh my gosh!” I squealed, and her eyes widened as she read the letter. A thought struck me.

“How am I gonna get ready, mom? Do I have enough time to run up to the spring?” I fretted, and she sighed.

“It’s too cold, Krys. You’ll freeze. Just go get your church dress, and come back. I’ll braid your hair. You’ll be fine.” She offered, and I nodded, though I was still worried. What if they thought I was dirty? What if they saw how I lived and were disgusted?

Shoving those thoughts away, I darted back to my “room:” a 7 by 7 foot area with the roof partially missing and an airmattress in the corner. I grabbed a plastic trashbag and opened it, pulling out the nicest thing I owned: a black, floor length dress with long sleeves and a belt. After making sure that there weren’t any holes to quickly patch up, I slipped it on and slipped on the worn pair of black flats that I always wore with it.

I then made my way back to my mom’s room, where she had forced herself upright and into her wheelchair. I grabbed 3 black hair ties from her bedside table, and forced myself to sit on the cold floor in front of her. She immediately began twisting and twining, pulling my admittedly greasy brown hair back to where no one could tell how dirty it was. She took one of the hair ties and secured it with a quick grunt of affirmation. I stood quickly, and hugged her.

“Thanks mom. You have no idea how excited I am.”

“Actually, I think I do.” She corrected and I grinned. I was about to reply when I heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway.

“They’re here! Oh my Go-sh” I quickly corrected myself at my mother’s disapproving glare, and gave her a quick kiss before dashing off to meet our international visitors.

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So guys. Don't yell at me because it's the day after christmas and this isn't done. It ain't my fault. Blame this damn storm Euclid for being so evil... So sorry, but this isn't quite done. :/ I'm writing as I'm traveling. Cut me some slack. :) Love ya all to death, and thanks for readin!