Where does one start with a story? Usually it starts in the past. A backstory is needed to help set a foundation of the tale to be told. And that is where this story will begin. It’s depressing how fast things change. And the worse part is, the world around you continues. Others pass by you without a clue as to what is going on. They just assume everything is okay and leave you be or maybe they are mixed up in their own troubles to notice anything else.

  My family was pretty decent in the beginning. My father worked in sales for a tech company and my mother sold insurance. Both made good money to keep everything afloat. I went to a nice school. It was a private religious school; the kind that had bible studies on Wednesday and mass on Friday. My parents were not completely religious but we still went to mass on Sunday and said our nightly prayers before bed. I had good friends and the only other member of my family that I saw often was my grandfather.

  My grandfather was a hardy man who lived most of his life on a farm somewhere in the midwest. After he sold the farm to some wealthy land owning schmucks he decided to travel around the world. He had a kind, strong soul. He always knew how to cheer everyone up. And every year around Christmas I would wait in anticipation for his arrival. My mother would catch me staying up at night waiting peering through my bedroom window.

  She would call out from the hallway, “Lilith Blackstone are you still awake? You need to be getting to bed; you have school tomorrow.” And there would be those heart pounding ‘Oh no’ moments and I would duck back into my bed and pretend to be sleeping. And then she would come in with a flashlight and shine it in my face to see if I was asleep.

  My mother was a hardworking woman and kept everything neat and organized to a T. She had a routine and a schedule for everything. She grew up on the family farm with my grandfather. That’s where she got it from. My father would follow her after she opened my room and say, “Dear it’s late; don’t wake her up.” And he gently put his hands on her shoulders and gingerly ease her back into their room. He was a very persuasive man and I think that’s why she married him.

  The real shit started around this one particular Christmas when I was a mere young child of the age of seven.. My parents had the house all set up for my grandfather to arrive. We grew up in a nice house in your average typical American suburb. The kind where you get kids and families coming around every Halloween and Carolers singing every christmas. Neighbors would compete every year to see who can create the most elaborate decorations for whatever holiday was going on. My parents didn’t go all out. We had simple decorations like lights on the roof and reindeer on the lawn. Just typical normal stuff. Nothing unusual.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  My grandfather pulled up in an old pickup truck. He wore a woolen jacket with a tweed flat cap and a matching scarf. He was a jolly old man. He was so jolly you could mistaken him as Santa Claus. In fact for a time I thought he was. Never saw him angry. Not once.

  The Christmas tree was set. Lights decorated the tree and the fireplace. Stockings hung up with our names on it. Presents already laid out under the bright tree. My grandfather called out, “Ho ho ho” as he entered through the door. As soon as I heard his voice I bolted from my room and raced down the stairs with a cheerful smile on my face. As I got down to the last few steps I leaped towards him; flying past my father and quick as a fox he would catch me all while going “Ho ho ho.”

  As he placed me down on the floor my mother trailed behind me. “Lilith, please be careful with your grandfather.” My mother said with worry in her voice. My grandfather looked up at her and smiled. “Oh don’t you worry about a thing, Annie. Your old man still has a good, strong heart. I can handle the little tyke.” He said as he patted me on my head and smiled.

  I reached out to my grandfather’s hand and tugged on it. “Grandfather, did you bring me presents?” I called out in anticipation. I did a little bounce with excitement. Both for presents and for my grandfather.

  “Lilith! That’s rude.” My mother said to me with embarrassment in her voice. I stopped my little bounce and I looked at her confused. I turned back to my grandfather and he only had that warm, comfortable smile on his face.

  “Annie, don’t be so harsh on the child. She’s only seven.” Grandfather said. He then turned down to look at me. “Why yes, my dear. I have a special gift for you that I want you to have. But that is for later.” Grandfather said as he shuffled his way into the house. He was carrying a dark leather suitcase; one that he always takes with him when he travels. It was decorated with a bunch of stickers from places he had been to.

  “I’ve had quite the journey.” Grandfather said as he made his way towards the stairs. My mother turned towards him and tried to reach out for his suitcase. But as sharp as a tack he realized what my mother was trying to do and moved his suitcase away from my mother’s grasp.

  “No Annie, not this time. I don’t need any help.” He said as he continued to shuffle his way upstairs.

  “Dad, please. At your age you shouldn’t be pushing yourself like this.” My mother said. She looked at my grandfather with concern on her face.

  “Ah, don’t worry about a thing, Annie. I got this.”

  My father placed his hands on my mother’s shoulders. “Second door to the right as usual, Eustice.” He called up to my grandfather. My grandfather smiled back.

  “See, Annie. The lad knows well. I got this.” My grandfather said as he continued to make his way to the top of the stairs.