It was two days until Christmas, just one more day until Christmas Eve. I was at Walmart with my older sister Alyssa, trying to find a present for our father. “Eric, how much money did you say you had?” she questioned, rummaging through her purse. “Five dollars and seventy-eight cents,” I answered proudly. “Eric,” she began, reaching for the top shelf, “if we want to get Dad this Guinness set, we’ll need five more dollars.” I gazed down at the five-dollar bill in my tight fist, then looked back up at her with pleading eyes. “But Alyssa, I need those five dollars to buy my card set!” I whined. “Eric, you know how much Dad wanted this, right?” she said,…

Timothy had always loved Christmas. It was his favorite time of year. He loved the lights, the music, the presents, the movies, the laughter… he loved it all. Each Christmas Eve, Timothy’s parents would tuck him gently into bed. They told him he’d better get to sleep, because Santa doesn’t visit the houses of children who are still awake. As he lay in bed, his heart would race in excitement, and he would wear himself out as he imagined opening up all of his wonderful Christmas gifts the next morning. Soon he’d be fast asleep, with a smile on his face. That was the usual routine. But this Christmas Eve was different. Timothy just couldn’t fall asleep. He’d tried everything.…