The Magic of Stories
by Sharon Van Orman
People always complain about Thanksgiving being forgotten between Halloween and Christmas. They grumble and post silly memes on social media for a bit but they always move on. They don’t remember, we made sure of that. It was the only way to keep everyone from going mad. But there are only seven of us left and the spell is weakening. If this continues they will remember soon, God help us.
23 November 1823
Boston Massachusetts, USA
“Moore!,” the man yelled, shaking his friend. “You’ve got to pull it together! This will take all of our strength.”
“How are we do to do this, Livingston?’ Moore asked, taking his wire rimmed glasses from his face. He wiped them on his shirt front without thinking. The moment he popped them back on his face the scarlet smear of blood on the white linen was so shocking that once again, all he could do was stand there and blink in confusion.
“I thought you said your friend was powerful, Livingston,” Martha said, as she entered the room with candles .
You’re done then,” the old woman asked as she took the parchment from him. “Oh this will do just fine.” She said, smiling as she read “Twas the Night before Christmas…”