[ Join Free! ]
(No Spam mail)

  • RolePlay
  • Join Us
  • Writings
  • Shoutbox
  • Community
  • Digg Mashup
  • Mp3 Search
  • Online Education
  • My Youtube
  • Ear Training
  • Funny Pics
  • nav

  • Role Play
  • Piano Music
  • Free Videos
  • Web 2.0
  • nav

    << | >>

    dots Submission Name: The night my childhood dieddots

    Author: The Wolverine
    ASL Info:    23/M/MA
    Elite Ratio:    4.51 - 74/137/91
    Words: 796
    Class/Type: Personal Quotes/Nostalgia
    Total Views: 736
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 4155

       written 12-17 2005, a memoir of the night I lost my sense of innocence.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsThe night my childhood dieddots

    Having spent the better part of seventeen years on this planet, knowledge has always been accumulating. There is a still an endless amount that I do not know. Only my personal experiences shaped the teen sitting, typing this paper. I am no longer the little boy pictured in this photograph. Unfortunately, time changes everything. I can no longer look at the picture as I did then. Everything in that picture has changed, most importantly, me.

    I entered the mall with my mother. It was December, 1994, and I was going to get my picture taken with Santa! Everything was perfect, including my matching velour jumpsuit. Yes, for a few moments I would be able to share with the list-maker all my wishes. Of course this wasn’t Chris Cringle in the flesh; he was simply a formality in the whole bureaucracy. All I had to do was dictate the contents of my Christmas list and the head honcho himself would get the news. I waited in line, my mother paid for the Polaroid, and we were off home. I can smile now when I recall the day, and frown when I realize my sense of style peaked when I was six. Things were great, everyone was in the spirit of the holidays. However, nothing could prepare me for the events of Christmas Eve that year.

    Nothing. Exactly what all my prior attempts to capture a glimpse of Santa had produced. My determination was greater than that of figure skater Tonya Harding. Thankfully, my plan did not involve clubbing St. Nick in the knee with a pipe. I would simply sneak out of bed and wait. Positioning was key, I gathered my crayon-blueprints. This was serious business. I only had to go through the final motions before I could begin the operation. Milk, check. Cookies, check. Stockings all hung. I bid my family adieu and retired for the night.

    Or so they thought. Kept awake with my excitement, I could barely keep still. After what seemed like hours, I deemed it safe to venture out from my bedroom. I would position myself behind the curtains in our living room. I would see him! I stepped lightly to the edge of the corridor and peeked around the corner. ABORT! I could see my parents downstairs. I knew that detection meant only bad things in my immediate future, so I gingerly began to back up-wait a second…what was Dad doing? I pressed up against the cold white plaster of the wall as I watched my father consume Santa’s cookies. Why was Dad eating Santa’s cookies? My brain struggled to validate what I had just witnessed. No! It couldn’t be. My eyes widened as the horrible truth dawned on me.

    There was no Santa Claus. My mind was racing through images of Christmas, and I felt sick. The entire thing was a hoax. A sham. I’d been fooled my whole life into believing all this stuff that wasn’t true. Immediately paranoia set in; what else was a lie?!? I went back to my room and quietly closed the door. I climbed into bed and wrapped myself up under the blankets and in the silence. Left in the empty room to think with a hot head, I fell asleep.

    That night I closed my eyes and when I open them I sit in front of this computer screen. The torrent of emotion I felt that night is something I recall vividly, but I realize that discovering the myth of Santa was inevitable.

    In retrospect, I understand that the illusion of Santa is better to have lost than never to have at all. That night, the anger within me was palpabe and justified, but with age comes perspective. Realizing that being with family was the most important thing was something I came to grasp over the years.

    If only I had some catcher in the rye to prevent me from taking a swan dive off of childhood's mountain and crashing down into the real world's harsh truths. Alas, that bit of my youth was consumed much like Santa's cookies. But truthfully, I'm thankful that I believed as long as I did, because those holidays when I was young were some of the happiest days of my life.

    Submitted on 2009-01-04 20:48:23     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!

    ||| Comments |||
      That was the best write I've read to date about the topic. Well done, my sympathies for the loss, and my admiration for revisiting and revising your closure. Thanks for sharing.
    | Posted on 2009-02-23 00:00:00 | by CrypticBard | [ Reply to This ]
      Wow. I was not expecting this what-so-ever. This is quite different then what I am used to reading from you. I like this actually. It made me smile which is something I rarely do in poems or writes from you : ) I did enjoy the beginning; the memoir of you and your mother visiting Santa. This story almost reminded my of 'A Christmas Story'. For some reason, I could picture Ralphie saying something along these lines. Have you seen the movie? If you haven't, sorry for ruining it for you : ) The transitions between the paragraph were well done. They led up to the next body which flowed very well might I add. Good job! I really liked this. Even the part at the ending where I felt as if your innocence had no been lost but taken. You did a great job! : )

    Much love,
    | Posted on 2009-01-04 00:00:00 | by unnamedtear | [ Reply to This ]

    Think Feedback more than Compliments :: [ Guidelines ]

    1. Be honest.
    2. Try not to give only compliments.
    3. How did it make you feel?
    4. Why did it make you feel that way?
    5. Which parts?
    6. What distracted from the piece?
    7. What was unclear?
    8. What does it remind you of?
    9. How could it be improved?
    10. What would you have done differently?
    11. What was your interpretation of it?
    12. Does it feel original?


    Be kind, take a few minutes to review the hard work of others <3
    It means a lot to them, as it does to you.

    In the Mouth of Elysium written by HisNameIsNoMore
    One Thing written by Wolfwatching
    Devils in the Details written by endlessgame23
    Treasure Chest written by PieceOfCake
    To written by SavedDragon
    Transparent written by Daniel Barlow
    new moon written by CrypticBard
    Incubus written by monad
    Linger written by saartha
    untitled written by Chelebel
    Date night written by expiring_touch
    Deaf Dumb and Blind is no excuse written by poetotoe
    Our Cinder Crisis written by SavedDragon
    cleverly shunned written by CrypticBard
    Love Can Be... written by HAVENSMITH92
    Hopelessly Blind written by ForgottenGraves
    It's Night Now written by RisingSon
    The Song on Your Guitar written by SavedDragon
    Wish written by Daniel Barlow
    Red Barn written by rev.jpfadeproof
    Skin of Fables written by ShadowParadox
    Pressure written by hybridsongwrite
    This written by Chelebel
    To Glow written by krs3332003
    Whiteout written by layDsayD
    Munyonyo written by expiring_touch
    Summer written by layDsayD
    Life changes in a moment written by Ramneet
    Sunset written by rev.jpfadeproof
    I will call out your name written by RisingSon




    User Name:


    [ Quick Signup ]
    [ Lost Password ]

    January 10 07
    131,497 Poems

    I have 14,000+ Subscribers on Youtube. See my Video Tutorials

    [ Angst Poetry ]
    [ Cutters ]
    [ Famous Poetry ]
    [ Poetry Scams ]

    [ Smaller ] [ Bigger ]