~A Beatle Christmas Love Story~
As the grand winter holiday of Christmas quickly approaches, people around the world who celebrate this holiday might be shopping for gifts, decorating the Christmas tree, traveling to a relative's house, or searching for holiday decorations as we speak.
In these stories, four different girls are busily preparing for Christmas, possibly doing one of these things as the day is coming closer. However, something unexpected happens.
Enjoy and Merry Krimble to you all! :)
(__ = your name)
"Final checks before I leave... Hand bag? Check. Wallet? Check. Money? Could be more, but I'm a broke nineteen year old with no job...." you muttered, checking your leather handbag that was slung over your shoulder with all your life's contents in it. Your twelve year old sister, Laura, was waiting at your bedroom's doorway, wearing a bored expression on her face. She was quick at getting ready, her blonde hair neatly tied up in a bun, her crimson dress wrinkle-free, her leggings white as snow and her light green eyes focusing on the snow swiftly falling outside your window. She was clutching a Santa hat in her hands, and was deeply excited for Christmas.
Your parents were going to go Christmas shopping, bringing you two along with them to help pick out gifts for family members. Laura loathed shopping, and only wanted to go for the free caramel apples they sold at the mall in New York City, which you lived two hours away from. "Will ya hurry up, sis?" Laura grunted, twirling her festive hat in her hands and taking her eyes off the snow. You rolled eyes and parted your way down the staircase wearing a somewhat neat ponytail and a blue velvet dress with dark leggings. She pulled on her hat in a holiday spirit and sped down the stairs, clearly excited for some apples. Your parents were already dressed up and were half-way out of the front door. "Come on, we don't want to run into traffic!" you mother called out of the door in your family's small car. You and Laura obeyed and pulled on your coats, boots, hats and mittens and hopped into the car; singing overplayed Christmas carols.
"Oboes, this way!" the tall, serious conductor of the National Orchestra of Wales called out, pointing to some seats in the very front of the large stage. You were about to perform on live television, playing all the Christmas favourites in front of an ocean of people for the holidays. You were like one big happy family and performing in front of large crowds were a bit nerve-wracking, but you got used to it. You even met your best friend Sadie here, a woman your age who plays the French horn. The stadium was covered in extravagant wallpaper of scarlet and bronze in shapes of roses, the ceiling far high above the orchestra casting a shadow upon the audience below, and the numerous seats were crimson with bronze legs and arms. The camera crew were in the very front, dressed up for the event and fidgeting with the cameras; trying to get a good shot.
Everybody of the orchestra were dressed up in black tuxedoes and dresses for the Christmas concert, because the conductor wanted to make everybody look like they knew what they were doing - which meant no Santa hats or reindeer antlers. However, some musicians protested and wore them anyway; you and Sadie being two of them. You sat down with your fellow oboe players, fixing you reindeer antlers as you gave Sadie a quick glimpse and chuckled. "Nice reindeer antlers, Rudolph," one of the French horns in the back commented, ironically wearing a Santa hat. You scowled at him, and then lightened up. "Nice hat, Santa."
"___! Time to go!" your father shouted from the driveway as you leaned against the railing of your little balcony; gazing down upon the neighbourhood in the faint morning light. You were only dressed in a fuzzy olive green robe and matching slippers, completed with a towel covering your head in a just-got-out-of-bed fashion. You sighed and scurried to get a warm sweater decorated with small Santas and reindeers prancing about, and a pair of dark blue jeans with two tarnished boots that you found scattered across your carpet floor of your bedroom. Your hair was in a tangled state and two snowflake earrings dangled from your ears. You were only traveling to your grandparents house over in the United Kingdom for the holidays, after all. The flight from Boston to Scotland with a bunch of jewellery and a dress would be a bit uncomfortable anyway.
You slung over your tiny maroon backpack over your shoulder that contained a few books and scrambled down the stairs of your apartment to the driveway. "Come on, __, our flight is in fifty minutes," you mother called from the small minivan that was your family's ride to the airport. You got in the vehicle and threw over your backpack in the trunk, which was crowded with suitcases. Your twin brother Mathew, or Matt, which is what he liked to be called, was bored to death and was focusing on the highway nearby. Your parents were in front, deciding on who was going to drive; your mother won and your father was left driving. The radio was lightly blurring 'Please Please Me' and the car exited the driveway and into the winding highway to the airport; the snow sprinkling over Boston and dark clouds slowly hiding the sun away.
"Could you pass that ornament, please? No, not that one, the golden one over there..." your father asked, balancing himself on a wooden ladder as he tried to hang Christmas ornaments on the evergreen tree in the living room. You were helping him, your cat trying to climb up the tree like a mountain and your mother and fourteen year old sister Katie out shopping for gifts. The house was completely covered in advent calendars, miniature Santas, a few reindeers made out of wood, and even some mistletoes! The ancient radio was buzzing out faint cheery holiday tunes in the kitchen and it was snowing harshly outside. It was just like any other Christmases you've celebrated.
You handed over the golden ornament and your dad hung it up on the evergreen tree. "The last one.....looks pretty good, hm?" your father commented, proud of his accomplishment. You grabbed the golden-painted star from the living room table and placed it on top. "Done!" you rejoiced, folding you arms and gazing at the final result. You realized you were starving, devoting your lunch time to decorating the Christmas tree, and you were craving milk and cookies. "How about we celebrate by eating cookies and milk, dad?" Your dad nodded in agreement and hopped down the ladder. You walked over to the dining room table to check the fresh made cookies you made this morning with your sister. They were gone! You checked the fridge, the milk was gone, too! You shrugged and went back to your father. "There is no cookies and milk left..." you said, disappointed and craving cookies. Your face lit up, and you had an idea.
"I'll just go to the store and grab some. I have some coins left, anyway. Bye!" you departed from the living room and pulled on a coat and boots and headed outside before your dad could stop you. He sat there and shrugged and sat at the couch to watch some TV. Nobody was home, and he switched on to some Christmas cartoon specials. Sometimes, even when your an adult, you'll never stop being a kid.