A/N

Yeah...the names of my OCs...you know, if you watch Narnia, the names grow on you. So, the main character's name is Lucy, and then her little sister's name is Susan. So...I'm crediting Narnia for that.

And I tried to put myself in someone's shoes who cannot stand Christmas. If I did a horrible job, I'm sorry. I'm usually not one who hates Christmas and stuff.

So...enjoy!

PROLOGUE

I hate Christmas.

And I don't care who hates me for it.

I think I've always had a disliking for it. Ever since I was a baby, my mother told me I got fussy when the holidays rolled around, and I drooled and even spit up on my presents. As a toddler, I refused to eat Christmas dinner and always made a big fit when we went to Christmas Eve church. As a kid, I tried to boycott Christmas with loose-leaf paper signs.

Now, as a teenager, I know just how to get my point across.

I keep quiet and talk to no one until after Christmas is over.

I don't know, exactly, why I hate Christmas. There are so many possibilities.

There's the fact that it's so commercialized. I mean, everywhere you look, there's Santa and the reindeer, or there's snow and candy canes, or…something. People tend to miss the true meaning of Christmas. And since we're on that subject…all those holiday specials? Ugh! They're just as bad!

Then there's all this…happiness. Everyone--and I mean, EVERYONE--is happy. Even the senile, cranky old people. Even the obnoxious, smart-aleck little kids. Even the bored, could-care-less employees at Target or Wal-Mart are all smiles. And the worst part is that three-quarters of this "happiness" isn't even real. As soon as the holidays are over, everyone goes back to their usual selves, cursing life and wishing they were somewhere else.

But, now that I'm considering things, I think the real reason I hate it so much is because Christmas does some strange things to my family.

My mother hates the holidays almost as much as I do. As usual, she does all the cooking, all the cleaning, all the shopping. And usually all that is doubled, considering all the people she needs to feed and take care of when the relatives come over. However, I know she really enjoys it. She just says she doesn't because she wants us all to feel sorry for her or…something stupid like that.

My little sister, Susan, is just like all those little kids you see on TV: she wants everything on all those brightly colored ads. I know she's only, like, six, and she doesn't know any better about what Christmas really means…but it's just so annoying! She gets that lean, hungry look in her eyes every time we go to the mall or whatever, and begs my parents for every toy or game she sees. It gets on my nerves too easily.

But the worst has to be my dad. Every year, a week before Christmas Eve, he goes up north with a few of his friends and they go ice fishing or something like that. He always tells Susan and I how he met his friends on some stupid magical train that visited him when he was our age and how he finally believed in Santa and blah, blah, blah. Mom gets super worried about him, and Susan, being the age she is, believes every word he says.

The scary part is the bell. My dad has this sterling silver bell he hangs on the Christmas tree every year. I guess it's supposed to make a sound, but I can't hear it. Dad and Susan insist that they can hear it, but Mom and I keep telling them it's broken. But will they believe us? No. They keep saying how great Santa is or whatever.

And I never had it in my heart to believe them.

That is…until Christmas Eve.

That was the night that changed my life.

Forever.