I was sitting in my normal spot on Christmas, the rug in front of the burning fireplace, my sisters huddled around me. Ah, yes...Life was good. I'd gotten everything I wanted. Every last thing; Taylor Swift CD, Stephen King books, laptop, everything. I grinned uncontrollably, for I was truly happy. I'd just stuffed my face with all the turkey, potatoes, and cake I could ask for. My family was there, and absolutley nothing had gone wrong!
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was a friendly knock, a light taptaptap, like that of my uncle Joey. Daddy stood up and said, "I'm coming!" He jogged to the door and twisted the knob. Everyone leaned to see who it was.
I heard my father mutter, "What the hell..." and then there was a slap - no, not a slap. A thunderous boom like that of a textbook being dropped to the floor. I flinched, and daddy fell to the ground. I screamed when I saw the crimson puddle form under his back and onto the hallway tile.
There was a man with a gun, masked in a black ski mask (just like in the movies), dressed in a gray sweater and black sweatpants. His eyes, I could see, were stone, and evil. He lifted his gun and fired again, this time at my grandma. We were all screaming now, as my grandmother slumped in her chair, dead.
They were all running away, to other rooms in the house. I couldn't move. My legs weighed three hundred pounds. Mom hurriedly dialed 9-1-1 and in a second, she was shot in the chest and bleeding on the floor. Within a couple seconds, every member of my family was dead around me, but I could never move. The man with the gun just stood there and watched me for a minute or two. Then he stalked off, closing the door behind him.
I cried until my eyes were so puffy I could scarce see a thing. I don't know if I was so sad because everyone died, or because I didn't die with them.
In any case...
I woke up drenched in sweat at three in the morning Christmas Eve Day. Everybody was fine.
Except me...