I just found this, a composition that I wrote on Dec 17th, 1985. In case it isn't obvious, this is totally a work of fiction:
When people think of Christmas, they think of a happy, jolly time when everyone is happy and kind. Wrong! Some families, maybe, but definitely not mine.
On this day, five weeks ago, it was two days before Christmas. Well, we were decorating our tree (we always do it late), making cookies, and wrapping presents all at the same time. My mother was screaming and my father was drunk, as usual. When we were finally finished, we put the presents under the tree, and put the cookies on a nearby table. Suddenly, the tree fell, crushed the presents, smashed the cookies, and killed our dog.
So we went on a mad dash to get new presents, a new tree, more cookies, and a new dog. None of which we found.
The next day, Christmas Eve Day, was a mad dash once again. This happened every year. We found a tree, presents, cookies, and a dog. When my mother and I came home, it was night-time.
We soon discovered that my father was missing, and we went hunting for him, as we did every year. Usually we found him laying a gutter and then we went home. This time was different. We found him in a gutter but when we got home, our house was missing.
I looked up in the sky and I thought I saw a tiny sleigh.
"...and I heard him saying, as he drove off, out of sight, 'Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good-night."
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