It was December 15th, 2003. I was about five years old.The Christmas songs were busted out and playing through the streets. Santas with bells in one hand, were at snow covered street corners, asking people to spare some money for some kind of organization. Decorations were set up at every shop and restaurant, spreading the Christmas spirit.
I remember one restaurant. The one with the big inflatable reindeer strapped to the roof. I remember staring hard at the bright red nose it had.....such a red nose. I loved the color red. It was my favorite color.
That's why I hate the color red now. I hate how it colored the snow that day. I hate how it covered my parents that day. I hate how all the red ambulances showed up that day.
It was tragic. It was horrifying. So I had to escape. I remember running. I quickly ran away from all the people there. Pretty stupid of me. I ended up slipping and falling in a pile of snow in someone's front yard. I layed there for what seemed like forever, until I saw something shiny about one foot away from my face. I reached out to grab it, and I turned it over and over in my hand. Wondering what it was.
Then I figured it out.
It was a red stone. I got up and I remember walking forward a bit, and there was another one and another one and another one. There was about fifteen of them that led me back to the scene where my parents had just gotten murdered. They filled up my pocket inside my winter jacket. But the next day, when I woke up in my aunt's house, I checked my pocket and they were all gone.
The red stones never appeared to me again after that.
