Post #11: Writers Circle 2 Story Draft


On the 24th night of December, David was just putting up the final decorations for Christmas. Along with the red and green lights and the tall-standing tree, hidden on the bottom of the chimney was a snare net. The cookies and milk were drugged with sleep serum, and the tree was lined with exploding ornaments.


David had never been a big fan of Santa. In fact, he might’ve hated him! His parents had died when he was just 7. Ever since, he had never received gifts from him. Every Christmas, he would get a piece of paper saying, it’s not my fault. He lived in a foster-home, with 12 other kids! Now, he has grown-up and wants to take out revenge on Santa.


As hours passed, David grew wearer and wearer. Just as he gave up hope, he heard a loud crash and a deep voice grumbling. David caught his breath. Muffled steps came from the living room. Tip-toeing to the door, he listened carefully. Grunts and strange sounds that sounded similar to farting came from down the hall. Listening more closely, David could hear a quiet sound of crunching. YES! The trap was in place.


Finally, the last house in the USA, my back is killing me. I always hated this house, especially the guy that lives in it. Next time I’ll stop coming altogether…not worth the trip anyways. The reason why I hate this guy is that I- crap. Just tipped over a vase. Hoped it didn’t wake up Him. Mmm, those cookies look sure good… *crunch**crunch*…yum, just as it looked like. Man, I don’t know what he put in these…thingssss…. Uhhhhhhh, don’t feel good.


David jumped out of his room with a bat in his hand. Slowly, he advanced to the living room. Standing right in the middle of the room was a wall of red, supposedly called Santa. He too, was gaping at the sight of the stranger. Groggily, Santa got to his senses and rushed out the front door, which took more than one try. Regaining his senses, David rushed out to the window to see Santa staggering to a makeshift ladder up the roof. That’s probably where his sleigh is, he thought. Running to his chimney, he had foreseen this event, so he had constructed a hidden ladder in the chimney: little cracks big enough for hands and feet. When David reached the top of the chimney, he was amazed by what he saw.


Dazzling in the chilly dark night, sat a large red motorbike, seemingly perfect, up until Santa marched over and yanked a cord coming out for the motor. Black fumes rose up from the wheels as the engine wheezed to life just as Santa wheezed. The bike was on the verge of sinking in to the house, and if Santa sat on it for any longer, he was afraid it would do some collateral damage.

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