Christmas

Sitting and watching the Christmas lights isn’t the same as it was when I was a child. The indescribable joy is no longer there. Christmas –simply another time of year for spending money on worthless and unfriendly family members, whose sole purpose on this planet is to leach time and money from you. Thinking back on my life, it’s impossible to see where this cynicism has risen from. To be honest, I can actually pinpoint the moment. It’s just that I’ve been putting off remembering the events for so long that my mind has buried them under old shopping lists and bad haircuts. You see, remembering when I fell out of love with Christmas, means remembering Rochelle. I hate remembering her…I must have met Rochelle Marks when I was seventeen years old. She was such a pretty young thing. Soft brown hair, gorgeous blue eyes, and a figure that I wish I had killed her for. Seeing her prancing under the Christmas lights made my blood boil. The casual way she flirted with everyone, still makes me want to hurt her. Maybe that’s why I let her in the way I did. Sweet words, soft touches, little looks. I’m surprised she agreed to dinner, I thought she would say no, like she did to all the others like me. Quiet restaurant, nice wine, good company, intelligent conversation. Took her back to mine, surprised she came. Undressed her, made me mine, lay there and watched her sleep. Strangled her by the light of the Christmas tree. You know, thinking back over things, she made me love Christmas all the more. I guess you could say the only reason I hate Rochelle and Christmas now, is that I got caught. I sure do hate prison Christmas dinners.