Ghost of Christmas Past

Sparkling eyes peer into the half light shadows cast by the moon streaming through my window, my heart thudding with anticipation...twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house...breathing stills into gentle sleep, except for me.

Pealing back warmth of furry blankets, my toe slips to the floor, testing for tattle tale creaks from the floorboards. This will be the year that I actually sneak into the living room seeing what Santa brought before anyone wakes...

Silent as a stirring shadow, I creep to the door, peering into the hall that stretches like an inky river passed my parents room to the front of the house. Sliding my feet along the baseboards, where nails hold the floor firmly in place, ensuring no clatter would arise to wake ma' in her kerchief or pa in his cap, stealth becomes my accomplice.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Every move echoes inside my head, in deference to the silent night. Inch by inch, my eyes never leave the mounds created by my parents under the covers of their bed, until I slide beyond their door. Relief spills across my trembling limbs as the rest of the hall is traversed furtively.

As I turn the corner to the living room, my dreams of hours of blissful play are interrupted by the glowing apparition staring deep into my soul. Pride leaks down the leg of my pajamas, my skin shivering under his gaze. What passes for a mouth gapes in a horrible snarl, fetid breath washing my face in its warm embrace.

Subtlety shatters like a dropped tea cup, my foot falls pound hasty retreat, leaving my screams to trail behind, waking the entire house from its long winter's nap...

____

In the bright morning sun, my brother snickers as he punches his new glow-in-the-dark inflatable Hulk punching bag...leaving me to the ghosts of my folly.

Ho. Ho. Ahem.