My Creative Writing

Christmas Time is Here. Time for Death and Sorrow.

The frosty winter wind pushed against the side of their cozy cottage. Apple cider candles and a warm fuzzy feeling filled the air. Mary and the girls were draping silver and gold Garland on the mantle. The tree was dressed up in beautiful ornaments that glistened next to the fireplace. The flames made shadows dance on the walls. The radio was playing Christmas carols softly. Christmas lights and lanterns twinkled softly from the Arctic cold outside. The snow was deep. The girls giggled and played. The cheery yuletide feeling intoxicated the children. The girl's mother, Mary, was setting the table for a warm dinner to chase away the cold that seeped in through the floor boards. The cold that forced the girls to wear ridiculous socks with their gorgeous frilly evening gowns and made Mary frown at the sight. "Go and get your father from his study. Tell him dinner's ready." She whispered to her oldest daughter, Jo. Short for Joanna. Jo hesitated. Her father always grew irritated when she interrupted his work. "Go on. He won't bite." Mary smiled and Jo giggled. Jo trudged down the dark hall that always threatened to consume her. Her family always made fun of her for her fear. She gripped the sides of her dress as her breathing grew heavy. "Almost there, almost there, almost there." She mumbled under her breath. As she got closer to his door, she felt uneasy. Dead quiet. Usually you would hear the sound of a keyboard typing on endlessly. Silence made Jo nervous. She knocked on the oak door. "Father?" No answer. She placed her hand on the door. It creaked open just a crack. Another alarm went off in her head. Her father, John Summers never, never left his door unlocked. "Father?" She asked again. Nothing. She slowly pushed the door open all of the way. If she knew what she was about to see, she never would've left the parlor. She heard a weird creaking sound and looked up. Jo let out a bloodcurdling scream. There in the rafters was a noose. And her father. His eyes looked like they were about to burst from their sockets. His face looked pale and his neck a bright purple. He was hanging limply and slowly swiveling around.