On the 1st Day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: a short story by Neil Cahill
The Last Day Before Christmas Vacation The last day before Christmas vacation in elementary school is one of the most treasured days of the year. All week, the whole class was so excited for our Christmas party with Christmas music, hot chocolate, and especially for a chance visit from Santa Claus. The day of, we would be practically bouncing off the walls with excitement, so ecstatic to eat all the yummy treats our parents had prepared for us. Listening to Christmas music, coloring Christmas coloring pages, and playing an assortment of Christmas themed games, all added to the magic of the day. And then the moment we were all waiting for: Santa was here! The whole classroom erupted in cheer as the man with the big red coat passed out candy canes and little gifts for all of the kids. And when the day was over, and all the cookies and treats were eaten, we gave our friends big hugs, wished them happy holidays, and went home with big smiles on our faces. As our parents drove us or we took the bus home, it would begin to snow and the thoughts of the party and our friends still danced in our heads. It was perfect, and the vacation had only just begun.
On the 2nd day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: a letter by Nick Swensen
November 14, 2027. To whoever finds this letter After 500 years I came to the conclusion that I am only truly half a person. I have done whatever I want, whenever I want. I have all the time in the world, yet I feel empty. I have never truly had experience, all my actions that I did not reverse were carefully planned out every second of it. It would drive a lesser man mad. Now I see why. Graphs, spreadsheets, cups of coffee, ad infinitum. All to attempt to log a couple years. I have gone from 15 when I got these powers to 20 in 500 years. I had a perfect score on every report card, had wealth, power, anything. Yet one thing I lacked. This constant cycle repeated with one thing in common. No matter what I did, no matter the timelines I scoured, no matter how many times I rerolled the dice on any moment: I could not find any way to love. The years made me heartless, disconnected. I was the main character, everyone else just floating by. So, this is now what I shall do: I shall go to where I was at 15, and never use this power again. Simple as that. And one last final warning to whomever stumbles here after me; You will regret using your power, use it for good or for evil, you will regret it afterwards. Why you may ask? Because you will always lack one thing that makes us human, the capacity to love and to be loved. We are both what we do with our time, and what time throws at us. -St. Nick
On the 3rd day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: writing by Brennon Schifman
On the 4th day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: a poem by Brooke Becchetti
Christmas morning is here, Childhood glee and bright cheer. The parents with coffee and a feeling of pride, the dog with a bone, and snow outside. Gather round the happy tree, draw your family near, and give thanks for another wonderful year.
On the 5th day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: writing by Emily Woods
On the 6th day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: a poem by Addison Brenizer
I want winter to be over Everything is so dark Constantly The sun’s gone by 4 Constantly I wake up before the sun Constantly I’m sick Constantly I’m miserable Constantly I want winter to be over
On the 7th day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: writing by Jake McKillop
On the 8th day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: writing by Julia Pratt
On the 9th day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: writing by Abby Violette
On the 10th day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: writing by Vicky Parent
On the 11th day of Christmas, Litmag gave to me: a poem by Allie Burns
