Bluebird “Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus,” I sang at the top of my lungs. “Right down Santa Claus Lane!” Preston joined in. It was the night of Christmas Eve and I was driving with Preston to his parents’ house. We were going to spend the night and exchange gifts in the morning. As we drove through the snow, Preston and I belted out our favorite Christmas carols. I inhaled deeply, grinning as my favorite smells entered my nose. I could practically taste his mom’s gingerbread and apple pie. The other air freshener filled the car with the sharp scent of pine trees. Christmas was my favorite time of year. “Here comes Santa Claus,” Preston started again. Then I saw her in the dark night. The little girl wore a tattered blue coat. She waddled onto the train tracks and started playing with the white fluff on the ground. Her chubby hands dug into the ground, though she wasn’t wearing an
Disclaimer: We only kill fictional characters. We are mostly nice people in real life.