My sister wakes me.
She puts a finger to her lips and we pad down the hall in our fleece footie pyjamas. It is still dark so she holds my hand on the stairs.
Our parents stand in the dining room. I feel strange—like it’s snowing inside. There is quiet and cold here. Our da stares at something on the floor: a Christmas stocking.
I don’t understand why it’s in our house. We don’t have stockings. Or a tree with ornaments.
“There’s a note,” Da says.
My sister points to the shattered window. We are not welcome here.
December 3 Prompt: Dissonance and Holidays (Write a story that pairs something seasonal with something odd.)
My two words are: Stocking and Window
Flash Fiction Challenge over at Carrot Ranch