#santaclaus — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #santaclaus, aggregated by home.social.
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https://www.europesays.com/sk/69695/ Biely supremacista dostal za plánovanie otravy detí 15 rokov väzenia #NewYork #News #SantaClaus #SK #Slovak #Slovenčina #Správy #súd #Svet #USA #World #WorldNews
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Random Old Comic: Slay Ride https://www.toyboxcomix.com/2024/12/24/slay-ride/ Slay Ride #BobaFett #Chewbacca #DorothyZbornak #GoldenGirls #SantaClaus #StarWars
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Siberian caliphate when???
https://piefed.social/c/historymemes/p/1875483/siberian-caliphate-when
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Random Old Comic: Slay Ride https://www.toyboxcomix.com/2024/12/24/slay-ride/ Slay Ride #BobaFett #Chewbacca #DorothyZbornak #GoldenGirls #SantaClaus #StarWars
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Santa broke the sleigh and took a €1.99 Ryanair flight to Vasto.
When the sleigh breaks down, you take the €1.99 flight! 😅 Discovering the magical night vibes of Vasto, Italy. Sometimes everyone needs some "me time," even Santa! Would you travel here for less than 2 Euro? 🇮🇹✨
#Vasto #ItalyTravel #BudgetTravel #SantaClaus #Ryanair #TravelHumor #MeTime #ExploreItaly #NightVibes #TravelGram #HolidaySpirit
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📍
"Keeping the spirits bright... one draft beer at a time!"
🍻 🎄✨ 🎊 🎅 🦌
#HappyNewYear #HolidaySpirit #SantaClaus
#NewYearCelebration
#NewYear2026 #CheersToTheNewYear
#SantaAndRudolph #DraftBeer #Cheers #JohnRoss7 #Mastodon -
📍
"Keeping the spirits bright... one draft beer at a time!"
🍻 🎄✨ 🎊 🎅 🦌
#HappyNewYear #HolidaySpirit #SantaClaus
#NewYearCelebration
#NewYear2026 #CheersToTheNewYear
#SantaAndRudolph #DraftBeer #Cheers #JohnRoss7 #Mastodon -
📍
"Keeping the spirits bright... one draft beer at a time!"
🍻 🎄✨ 🎊 🎅 🦌
#HappyNewYear #HolidaySpirit #SantaClaus
#NewYearCelebration
#NewYear2026 #CheersToTheNewYear
#SantaAndRudolph #DraftBeer #Cheers #JohnRoss7 #Mastodon -
📍
"Keeping the spirits bright... one draft beer at a time!"
🍻 🎄✨ 🎊 🎅 🦌
#HappyNewYear #HolidaySpirit #SantaClaus
#NewYearCelebration
#NewYear2026 #CheersToTheNewYear
#SantaAndRudolph #DraftBeer #Cheers #JohnRoss7 #Mastodon -
📍
"Keeping the spirits bright... one draft beer at a time!"
🍻 🎄✨ 🎊 🎅 🦌
#HappyNewYear #HolidaySpirit #SantaClaus
#NewYearCelebration
#NewYear2026 #CheersToTheNewYear
#SantaAndRudolph #DraftBeer #Cheers #JohnRoss7 #Mastodon -
People discuss how Santa is able to deliver all the present in a single night, but they don't so much consider how he can fit all the presents of a single sleigh.
And if he doesn't have a shrink ray, that would mean there is a size limit for all the gifts and you will know when a gift isn't from Santa because it is over Santa's size limit.
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People discuss how Santa is able to deliver all the present in a single night, but they don't so much consider how he can fit all the presents of a single sleigh.
And if he doesn't have a shrink ray, that would mean there is a size limit for all the gifts and you will know when a gift isn't from Santa because it is over Santa's size limit.
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People discuss how Santa is able to deliver all the present in a single night, but they don't so much consider how he can fit all the presents of a single sleigh.
And if he doesn't have a shrink ray, that would mean there is a size limit for all the gifts and you will know when a gift isn't from Santa because it is over Santa's size limit.
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People discuss how Santa is able to deliver all the present in a single night, but they don't so much consider how he can fit all the presents of a single sleigh.
And if he doesn't have a shrink ray, that would mean there is a size limit for all the gifts and you will know when a gift isn't from Santa because it is over Santa's size limit.
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People discuss how Santa is able to deliver all the present in a single night, but they don't so much consider how he can fit all the presents of a single sleigh.
And if he doesn't have a shrink ray, that would mean there is a size limit for all the gifts and you will know when a gift isn't from Santa because it is over Santa's size limit.
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Image is a 19th-century Swedish Christmas card by Jenny Nyström. #MythologySky #FolkloreSky #ScandinaviaSky #YuleSky #ChristmasSky #Mythology #ScandinavianMythology #Folklore #ScandinavianFolklore #Scandinavia #Sweden #Yule #Christmas #YuleGoat #SantaClaus
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Bygone #editorialcartoons from #UnitedStates , #Germany , and #Canada to wish you a merry #Christmas— with surprise guest Chester Gould: https://bergetoons.blogspot.com/2025/12/christmas-1925.html
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Vintage Postcard Fantasy Father Christmas Headstock Horse
https://www.cpaphil.com/en/products/vintage-postcard-fantasy-father-christmas-headstock-horse
#VintagePostcard #FantasyPostcard #FatherChristmas #SantaClaus #VintageChristmas #ChristmasFantasy #HolidayIllustration #HorseAndSanta #IllustratedPostcard #VintageIllustration #SeasonalPostcard
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Vintage Postcard Fantasy Father Christmas Headstock Horse
https://www.cpaphil.com/en/products/vintage-postcard-fantasy-father-christmas-headstock-horse
#VintagePostcard #FantasyPostcard #FatherChristmas #SantaClaus #VintageChristmas #ChristmasFantasy #HolidayIllustration #HorseAndSanta #IllustratedPostcard #VintageIllustration #SeasonalPostcard
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Vintage Postcard Fantasy Father Christmas Headstock Horse www.cpaphil.com/en/p... #VintagePostcard #FantasyPostcard #FatherChristmas #SantaClaus #VintageChristmas #ChristmasFantasy #HolidayIllustration #HorseAndSanta #IllustratedPostcard #VintageIllustration #SeasonalPostcard
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FOUR STAGES OF A MAN’S LIFE
In which stage are you currently?
#FourStagesOfAMansLife #SantaBeliever #SantaSkeptic #SantaClaus #SantaLookalike #LifeJourney #GrowingUp #HolidayTraditions #ManhoodStages #FestiveFun
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FOUR STAGES OF A MAN’S LIFE
In which stage are you currently?
#FourStagesOfAMansLife #SantaBeliever #SantaSkeptic #SantaClaus #SantaLookalike #LifeJourney #GrowingUp #HolidayTraditions #ManhoodStages #FestiveFun
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FOUR STAGES OF A MAN’S LIFE
In which stage are you currently?
#FourStagesOfAMansLife #SantaBeliever #SantaSkeptic #SantaClaus #SantaLookalike #LifeJourney #GrowingUp #HolidayTraditions #ManhoodStages #FestiveFun
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FOUR STAGES OF A MAN’S LIFE
In which stage are you currently?
#FourStagesOfAMansLife #SantaBeliever #SantaSkeptic #SantaClaus #SantaLookalike #LifeJourney #GrowingUp #HolidayTraditions #ManhoodStages #FestiveFun
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FOUR STAGES OF A MAN’S LIFE:
1. You believe in Santa.
2. You don’t believe in Santa.
3. You are Santa.
4. You look like Santa.#FourStagesOfAMansLife #SantaBeliever #SantaSkeptic #SantaClaus #SantaLookalike #LifeJourney #GrowingUp #HolidayTraditions #ManhoodStages #FestiveFun
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FOUR STAGES OF A MAN’S LIFE:
1. You believe in Santa.
2. You don’t believe in Santa.
3. You are Santa.
4. You look like Santa.#FourStagesOfAMansLife #SantaBeliever #SantaSkeptic #SantaClaus #SantaLookalike #LifeJourney #GrowingUp #HolidayTraditions #ManhoodStages #FestiveFun
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FOUR STAGES OF A MAN’S LIFE:
1. You believe in Santa.
2. You don’t believe in Santa.
3. You are Santa.
4. You look like Santa.#FourStagesOfAMansLife #SantaBeliever #SantaSkeptic #SantaClaus #SantaLookalike #LifeJourney #GrowingUp #HolidayTraditions #ManhoodStages #FestiveFun
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FOUR STAGES OF A MAN’S LIFE:
1. You believe in Santa.
2. You don’t believe in Santa.
3. You are Santa.
4. You look like Santa.#FourStagesOfAMansLife #SantaBeliever #SantaSkeptic #SantaClaus #SantaLookalike #LifeJourney #GrowingUp #HolidayTraditions #ManhoodStages #FestiveFun
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"Santa Baby" is a song performed by American singer #EarthaKitt with #HenriRenéAndHisOrchestra and originally released in 1953. The song was written by Joan Javits and #PhilipSpringer, who also used the #pseudonym Tony Springer in an attempt to speed up the song's publishing process. Lyrically, the song is a #tongueincheek look at a #Christmas list addressed to #SantaClaus by a woman who wants extravagant gifts such as #sables, #yachts, and decorations from #Tiffany.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ycWObpi73Y -
Europe’s must-try Christmas train journeys https://www.byteseu.com/1624723/ #christmas #ChristmasLights #ChristmasMarkets #ChristmasSeason #Europe #SantaClaus #SleeperTrain #Switzerland #TrainJourneys #TrainLine #TwinklingLights
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Naughty or nice? Which list will you be on this Christmas?
Do You Believe In Father Christmas?
#flashfiction #Christmas #ghoststories #ChristmasFiction #Paranormal #ShortStory #FatherChristmas #SantaClaus
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Do You Believe In Father Christmas?
When I was eight years old, I did the most despicable thing.
On Christmas Eve 1970, I told my five-year-old sister that there was no such thing as Father Christmas. She was horrified.
Telling her that Father Christmas did not exist was the worst thing I ever did.
My mother was so angry with me. She sent me to my room.
I missed supper. I missed the carol-singers outside our house.
I missed seeing the first snowflakes of what was to be my first white Christmas. And I missed the evening of Christmas Eve, my favourite time of the year.
However, worse was to come.
I cried myself to sleep, blaming Father Christmas for what had happened.
Sometime during the night, I was woken by hands around my throat.
“You evil boy!” boomed the voice. I was too frightened to open my eyes.
“Open your eyes, boy! Do it, or you will never see Christmas again.”
He forced me to open my eyes. I don’t know how he did it, but he somehow did.
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
I was shocked beyond belief. It was Father Christmas who had his hands around my throat.
“You never, never tell anyone ever again that I do not exist. Do you understand me, boy?” I tried nodding my head, despite being in complete shock.
“Good. Now, look deep into my eyes.”
Seconds later, I saw a flock of robins in his eyes and, before I knew it, they were propelled into my eyes.
The screeching sound they made hurt my ears. I could not scream for help to my mother or father because of the tightly gripped hands around my throat. I finally managed to close my eyes, and the screeching robins and hands around my throat disappeared.
Terrified by what had happened, I crawled under my bed. I curled up into a tiny ball and shivered the night away. Sleep did come, but only briefly.
It was the sound of laughter that woke me.
I could hear the muffled voices of my family. It was Christmas morning, and they were already downstairs.
How could they have forgotten to wake me up?
I crawled out from under my bed and made my way past the open door of my bedroom. On the floor, at the top of the stairs, were two empty Christmas stockings. How could they have emptied their stockings without me?
I ran down the stairs and into the lounge, which was lit up with Christmas lights.
“Mum, Dad, Julie…I’m sorry,” I cried, but none of them took any notice of me. “Please forgive me, don’t spoil Christmas.” But it was no good, they just ignored me.
That’s when I saw the strange boy.
“Oh, that’s lovely, Hugh. Grandma sure knows how to knit Christmas jumpers,” laughed Dad, as he hugged the strange boy.
For the rest of the day, I watched as the boy with my name took my place. Nobody bothered me. Nobody even noticed I was there. It was as if I were a ghost.
I finally went to bed and cried myself to sleep. The whole family had arrived at our house and a Christmas party was in full swing.
The next morning, my mother woke me up.
“Are you feeling better, Hugh?”
“Are you talking to me?” I asked her.
“Of course, I am. Who else goes by your name in this house? Come on, it’s Boxing Day, and we need to get over to Grandma’s house.”
I didn’t ever say anything to anybody about what had happened, and I didn’t see the strange-looking boy with my name again.
Well, I didn’t see him until the following Christmas Day when the whole thing happened again. And it’s happened every Christmas since then.
You see, my place is now taken by a ghost, but only on that one day of the year when I become a ghost.
I’m so happy and thankful that it’s not Christmas every day.
Do you believe in Father Christmas?
This short story was originally published on my blog in December 2019.
Image created by Hugh W. Roberts using Canva.
Click the buttons below to follow Hugh on Social Media
Copyright © 2019 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.
#christmas #christmasFiction #fatherChristmas #fiction #ghostStories #ghostStory #ghosts #paranormal #santaClaus #shortStories #shortStory
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Do You Believe In Father Christmas?
When I was eight years old, I did the most despicable thing.
On Christmas Eve 1970, I told my five-year-old sister that there was no such thing as Father Christmas. She was horrified.
Telling her that Father Christmas did not exist was the worst thing I ever did.
My mother was so angry with me. She sent me to my room.
I missed supper. I missed the carol-singers outside our house.
I missed seeing the first snowflakes of what was to be my first white Christmas. And I missed the evening of Christmas Eve, my favourite time of the year.
However, worse was to come.
I cried myself to sleep, blaming Father Christmas for what had happened.
Sometime during the night, I was woken by hands around my throat.
“You evil boy!” boomed the voice. I was too frightened to open my eyes.
“Open your eyes, boy! Do it, or you will never see Christmas again.”
He forced me to open my eyes. I don’t know how he did it, but he somehow did.
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
I was shocked beyond belief. It was Father Christmas who had his hands around my throat.
“You never, never tell anyone ever again that I do not exist. Do you understand me, boy?” I tried nodding my head, despite being in complete shock.
“Good. Now, look deep into my eyes.”
Seconds later, I saw a flock of robins in his eyes and, before I knew it, they were propelled into my eyes.
The screeching sound they made hurt my ears. I could not scream for help to my mother or father because of the tightly gripped hands around my throat. I finally managed to close my eyes, and the screeching robins and hands around my throat disappeared.
Terrified by what had happened, I crawled under my bed. I curled up into a tiny ball and shivered the night away. Sleep did come, but only briefly.
It was the sound of laughter that woke me.
I could hear the muffled voices of my family. It was Christmas morning, and they were already downstairs.
How could they have forgotten to wake me up?
I crawled out from under my bed and made my way past the open door of my bedroom. On the floor, at the top of the stairs, were two empty Christmas stockings. How could they have emptied their stockings without me?
I ran down the stairs and into the lounge, which was lit up with Christmas lights.
“Mum, Dad, Julie…I’m sorry,” I cried, but none of them took any notice of me. “Please forgive me, don’t spoil Christmas.” But it was no good, they just ignored me.
That’s when I saw the strange boy.
“Oh, that’s lovely, Hugh. Grandma sure knows how to knit Christmas jumpers,” laughed Dad, as he hugged the strange boy.
For the rest of the day, I watched as the boy with my name took my place. Nobody bothered me. Nobody even noticed I was there. It was as if I were a ghost.
I finally went to bed and cried myself to sleep. The whole family had arrived at our house and a Christmas party was in full swing.
The next morning, my mother woke me up.
“Are you feeling better, Hugh?”
“Are you talking to me?” I asked her.
“Of course, I am. Who else goes by your name in this house? Come on, it’s Boxing Day, and we need to get over to Grandma’s house.”
I didn’t ever say anything to anybody about what had happened, and I didn’t see the strange-looking boy with my name again.
Well, I didn’t see him until the following Christmas Day when the whole thing happened again. And it’s happened every Christmas since then.
You see, my place is now taken by a ghost, but only on that one day of the year when I become a ghost.
I’m so happy and thankful that it’s not Christmas every day.
Do you believe in Father Christmas?
This short story was originally published on my blog in December 2019.
Image created by Hugh W. Roberts using Canva.
Click the buttons below to follow Hugh on Social Media
Copyright © 2019 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.
#christmas #christmasFiction #fatherChristmas #fiction #ghostStories #ghostStory #ghosts #paranormal #santaClaus #shortStories #shortStory
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Do You Believe In Father Christmas?
When I was eight years old, I did the most despicable thing.
On Christmas Eve 1970, I told my five-year-old sister that there was no such thing as Father Christmas. She was horrified.
Telling her that Father Christmas did not exist was the worst thing I ever did.
My mother was so angry with me. She sent me to my room.
I missed supper. I missed the carol-singers outside our house.
I missed seeing the first snowflakes of what was to be my first white Christmas. And I missed the evening of Christmas Eve, my favourite time of the year.
However, worse was to come.
I cried myself to sleep, blaming Father Christmas for what had happened.
Sometime during the night, I was woken by hands around my throat.
“You evil boy!” boomed the voice. I was too frightened to open my eyes.
“Open your eyes, boy! Do it, or you will never see Christmas again.”
He forced me to open my eyes. I don’t know how he did it, but he somehow did.
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
I was shocked beyond belief. It was Father Christmas who had his hands around my throat.
“You never, never tell anyone ever again that I do not exist. Do you understand me, boy?” I tried nodding my head, despite being in complete shock.
“Good. Now, look deep into my eyes.”
Seconds later, I saw a flock of robins in his eyes and, before I knew it, they were propelled into my eyes.
The screeching sound they made hurt my ears. I could not scream for help to my mother or father because of the tightly gripped hands around my throat. I finally managed to close my eyes, and the screeching robins and hands around my throat disappeared.
Terrified by what had happened, I crawled under my bed. I curled up into a tiny ball and shivered the night away. Sleep did come, but only briefly.
It was the sound of laughter that woke me.
I could hear the muffled voices of my family. It was Christmas morning, and they were already downstairs.
How could they have forgotten to wake me up?
I crawled out from under my bed and made my way past the open door of my bedroom. On the floor, at the top of the stairs, were two empty Christmas stockings. How could they have emptied their stockings without me?
I ran down the stairs and into the lounge, which was lit up with Christmas lights.
“Mum, Dad, Julie…I’m sorry,” I cried, but none of them took any notice of me. “Please forgive me, don’t spoil Christmas.” But it was no good, they just ignored me.
That’s when I saw the strange boy.
“Oh, that’s lovely, Hugh. Grandma sure knows how to knit Christmas jumpers,” laughed Dad, as he hugged the strange boy.
For the rest of the day, I watched as the boy with my name took my place. Nobody bothered me. Nobody even noticed I was there. It was as if I were a ghost.
I finally went to bed and cried myself to sleep. The whole family had arrived at our house and a Christmas party was in full swing.
The next morning, my mother woke me up.
“Are you feeling better, Hugh?”
“Are you talking to me?” I asked her.
“Of course, I am. Who else goes by your name in this house? Come on, it’s Boxing Day, and we need to get over to Grandma’s house.”
I didn’t ever say anything to anybody about what had happened, and I didn’t see the strange-looking boy with my name again.
Well, I didn’t see him until the following Christmas Day when the whole thing happened again. And it’s happened every Christmas since then.
You see, my place is now taken by a ghost, but only on that one day of the year when I become a ghost.
I’m so happy and thankful that it’s not Christmas every day.
Do you believe in Father Christmas?
This short story was originally published on my blog in December 2019.
Image created by Hugh W. Roberts using Canva.
Click the buttons below to follow Hugh on Social Media
Copyright © 2019 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.
#christmas #christmasFiction #fatherChristmas #fiction #ghostStories #ghostStory #ghosts #paranormal #santaClaus #shortStories #shortStory
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Do You Believe In Father Christmas?
When I was eight years old, I did the most despicable thing.
On Christmas Eve 1970, I told my five-year-old sister that there was no such thing as Father Christmas. She was horrified.
Telling her that Father Christmas did not exist was the worst thing I ever did.
My mother was so angry with me. She sent me to my room.
I missed supper. I missed the carol-singers outside our house.
I missed seeing the first snowflakes of what was to be my first white Christmas. And I missed the evening of Christmas Eve, my favourite time of the year.
However, worse was to come.
I cried myself to sleep, blaming Father Christmas for what had happened.
Sometime during the night, I was woken by hands around my throat.
“You evil boy!” boomed the voice. I was too frightened to open my eyes.
“Open your eyes, boy! Do it, or you will never see Christmas again.”
He forced me to open my eyes. I don’t know how he did it, but he somehow did.
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
I was shocked beyond belief. It was Father Christmas who had his hands around my throat.
“You never, never tell anyone ever again that I do not exist. Do you understand me, boy?” I tried nodding my head, despite being in complete shock.
“Good. Now, look deep into my eyes.”
Seconds later, I saw a flock of robins in his eyes and, before I knew it, they were propelled into my eyes.
The screeching sound they made hurt my ears. I could not scream for help to my mother or father because of the tightly gripped hands around my throat. I finally managed to close my eyes, and the screeching robins and hands around my throat disappeared.
Terrified by what had happened, I crawled under my bed. I curled up into a tiny ball and shivered the night away. Sleep did come, but only briefly.
It was the sound of laughter that woke me.
I could hear the muffled voices of my family. It was Christmas morning, and they were already downstairs.
How could they have forgotten to wake me up?
I crawled out from under my bed and made my way past the open door of my bedroom. On the floor, at the top of the stairs, were two empty Christmas stockings. How could they have emptied their stockings without me?
I ran down the stairs and into the lounge, which was lit up with Christmas lights.
“Mum, Dad, Julie…I’m sorry,” I cried, but none of them took any notice of me. “Please forgive me, don’t spoil Christmas.” But it was no good, they just ignored me.
That’s when I saw the strange boy.
“Oh, that’s lovely, Hugh. Grandma sure knows how to knit Christmas jumpers,” laughed Dad, as he hugged the strange boy.
For the rest of the day, I watched as the boy with my name took my place. Nobody bothered me. Nobody even noticed I was there. It was as if I were a ghost.
I finally went to bed and cried myself to sleep. The whole family had arrived at our house and a Christmas party was in full swing.
The next morning, my mother woke me up.
“Are you feeling better, Hugh?”
“Are you talking to me?” I asked her.
“Of course, I am. Who else goes by your name in this house? Come on, it’s Boxing Day, and we need to get over to Grandma’s house.”
I didn’t ever say anything to anybody about what had happened, and I didn’t see the strange-looking boy with my name again.
Well, I didn’t see him until the following Christmas Day when the whole thing happened again. And it’s happened every Christmas since then.
You see, my place is now taken by a ghost, but only on that one day of the year when I become a ghost.
I’m so happy and thankful that it’s not Christmas every day.
Do you believe in Father Christmas?
This short story was originally published on my blog in December 2019.
Image created by Hugh W. Roberts using Canva.
Click the buttons below to follow Hugh on Social Media
Copyright © 2019 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.
#christmas #christmasFiction #fatherChristmas #fiction #ghostStories #ghostStory #ghosts #paranormal #santaClaus #shortStories #shortStory
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Do You Believe In Father Christmas?
When I was eight years old, I did the most despicable thing.
On Christmas Eve 1970, I told my five-year-old sister that there was no such thing as Father Christmas. She was horrified.
Telling her that Father Christmas did not exist was the worst thing I ever did.
My mother was so angry with me. She sent me to my room.
I missed supper. I missed the carol-singers outside our house.
I missed seeing the first snowflakes of what was to be my first white Christmas. And I missed the evening of Christmas Eve, my favourite time of the year.
However, worse was to come.
I cried myself to sleep, blaming Father Christmas for what had happened.
Sometime during the night, I was woken by hands around my throat.
“You evil boy!” boomed the voice. I was too frightened to open my eyes.
“Open your eyes, boy! Do it, or you will never see Christmas again.”
He forced me to open my eyes. I don’t know how he did it, but he somehow did.
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
I was shocked beyond belief. It was Father Christmas who had his hands around my throat.
“You never, never tell anyone ever again that I do not exist. Do you understand me, boy?” I tried nodding my head, despite being in complete shock.
“Good. Now, look deep into my eyes.”
Seconds later, I saw a flock of robins in his eyes and, before I knew it, they were propelled into my eyes.
The screeching sound they made hurt my ears. I could not scream for help to my mother or father because of the tightly gripped hands around my throat. I finally managed to close my eyes, and the screeching robins and hands around my throat disappeared.
Terrified by what had happened, I crawled under my bed. I curled up into a tiny ball and shivered the night away. Sleep did come, but only briefly.
It was the sound of laughter that woke me.
I could hear the muffled voices of my family. It was Christmas morning, and they were already downstairs.
How could they have forgotten to wake me up?
I crawled out from under my bed and made my way past the open door of my bedroom. On the floor, at the top of the stairs, were two empty Christmas stockings. How could they have emptied their stockings without me?
I ran down the stairs and into the lounge, which was lit up with Christmas lights.
“Mum, Dad, Julie…I’m sorry,” I cried, but none of them took any notice of me. “Please forgive me, don’t spoil Christmas.” But it was no good, they just ignored me.
That’s when I saw the strange boy.
“Oh, that’s lovely, Hugh. Grandma sure knows how to knit Christmas jumpers,” laughed Dad, as he hugged the strange boy.
For the rest of the day, I watched as the boy with my name took my place. Nobody bothered me. Nobody even noticed I was there. It was as if I were a ghost.
I finally went to bed and cried myself to sleep. The whole family had arrived at our house and a Christmas party was in full swing.
The next morning, my mother woke me up.
“Are you feeling better, Hugh?”
“Are you talking to me?” I asked her.
“Of course, I am. Who else goes by your name in this house? Come on, it’s Boxing Day, and we need to get over to Grandma’s house.”
I didn’t ever say anything to anybody about what had happened, and I didn’t see the strange-looking boy with my name again.
Well, I didn’t see him until the following Christmas Day when the whole thing happened again. And it’s happened every Christmas since then.
You see, my place is now taken by a ghost, but only on that one day of the year when I become a ghost.
I’m so happy and thankful that it’s not Christmas every day.
Do you believe in Father Christmas?
This short story was originally published on my blog in December 2019.
Image created by Hugh W. Roberts using Canva.
Click the buttons below to follow Hugh on Social Media
Copyright © 2019 hughsviewsandnews.com – All rights reserved.
#christmas #christmasFiction #fatherChristmas #fiction #ghostStories #ghostStory #ghosts #paranormal #santaClaus #shortStories #shortStory
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After accidentally ruining Santa for her young daughter, mom flips the script in the best way
https://fed.brid.gy/r/https://www.upworthy.com/explaining-santa-to-kids
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After accidentally ruining Santa for her young daughter, mom flips the script in the best way
https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.upworthy.com/explaining-santa-to-kids
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After accidentally ruining Santa for her young daughter, mom flips the script in the best way
https://web.brid.gy/r/https://www.upworthy.com/explaining-santa-to-kids
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with #santaclaus coming up soon just wanted to clear this up #hohoho #yo #arrr #nikolaus
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Good Morning - Sharing Holly Jolly Santa this morning: https://1-lisas-baker.pixels.com/featured/holly-jolly-santa-lisa-s-baker.html
#santa #santaclaus #holly #jolly #Christmas #holiday #art #arte #artwork #MerryChristmas #wallart #homedecor #artforhome #artforsale #buyintoart #artprints #canvasprints #mastoart #fediart #fediverse #watercolor #mixedmedia #charming #whimsical #green #red #stationary #greetingcard #holidays #holidayseason #holidaydecor #Christmascards
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Archive photos show changes at Cranston’s Garden City Center shopping mall https://www.allforgardening.com/1518549/archive-photos-show-changes-at-cranstons-garden-city-center-shopping-mall/ ##hub #Claus #content #Department #evergreen #EvergreenContent #garden #Geographic #GeographicReference #holiday #HolidayMarketplaceHub #island #marketplace #mass #MassMerchantsU0026DepartmentStores #Merchants #Neutral #Overall #OverallNeutral #Reference #Rhode #RhodeIsland #RI #RIContentSharing #santa #SantaClaus #sharing #shopping #Stores #u0026
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Hummingbird Hot Cocoa Claus for Monday! 😍 https://1-lisas-baker.pixels.com/featured/hummingbird-hot-cocoa-claus-lisa-s-baker.html
#hummingbird #bird #birds #birdsofmastodon #art #arte #artwork #wallart #homedecor #artforhome #artforsale #buyintoart #artprints #canvasprints #mastoart #fediart #fediverse #fedigiftshop #mixedmedia #watercolor #painting #santa #santaclaus #Christmas #Holiday #Monday #HotChocolate #beverage #festive #greetingcards #holidaycards #cutebirds #cuteanimals #winter #snowflakes
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BBC:llä piiiiiitkä juttu Lapin helleaallosta.
No #coolcations in Finland atm. Because of the climate change and the heat.
https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/cn0ql98x1nvo#Finland #Suomi #helle #kuumuus #helleaalto #HeatWave #heat #Lappi #Lappland #Rovaniemi #joulupukki #SantaClaus #FatherChristmas #ilmastokriisi #ilmastonmuutos #ilmasto #ClimateCrisis #ClimateChange #climate #napapiiri #ArcticCircle #Arctic
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Violent Night (2022) Extrait
https://frimoulux.com/violent-night-2022-extrait/
#ViolentNight #2022 #TommyWirkola #DavidHarbour #JohnLeguizamo #AlexHassell #BeverlyDAngelo #AlexisLouder #LeahBrady #CamGigandet #EdiPatterson #Action #Comédie #Noël #PèreNoël #Mercenaires #Otages #FamilleRiche #Combat #HumourNoir #UniversalPictures #87NorthProductions #PatCasey #JoshMiller #SantaClaus #TrudyLightstone #JasonLightstone #GertrudeLightstone #Scrooge #Violence #EffetsSpéciaux #BoxOffice #CritiquePositive #SuiteEnDéveloppement
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Who wants to run with this #Madness #generativeAI
ha! I forget how it come to this, but... oh! I asked how was his holiday, and he said he wished #SantaClaus would bring him some #RAMHe's so goofy!
Check this out!
It's all yours! Run with it, and show me what you come up with!
Maybe you can pass it around. maybe New-ahhleans Drupal @DRPNL knows how to get that sort of collaboration going!
@OutOnTheMoors she's super clever but probably hates me for this one! muah-ha-ha-haaaw!
who else... @[email protected] is some kind of genius and will probably get a kick out of it.I can't believe @zombiewarrior fed #StableDiffusion sandwich to that dog.
ha! enjoy.
