A Christmas Story
The true meaning of Christmas.
The cold winter snow was piled high right up to the window sill of the second floor bedroom. Little Johnny kneeled on his bed in his pyjamas looking out of the square frosted panes of glass. He stared longingly up at the northern skies, bejewelled with the tipped cup of the moon and the sparkling stars, hoping beyond all of his wildest dreams to capture even just a fleeting glimpse of a rotund Santa Clause on his gift burdened sleigh.
For all too brief a moment, Johnny saw what he thought might be a merry Father Christmas passing through the bars of Orion. Johnny's heart skipped a beat as he held his breath. Alas, it was nothing more than a shooting star streaking across the starry starry night. Johnny's tensed up muscles relaxed as he settled back down on the beautiful, homemade, soft patchwork eiderdown which covered his bed.
Downstairs, Johnny's mum had festooned the hall and living room with glossy balloons and brightly coloured Christmas decorations. She was now busy putting out a glass of sherry and two hot mince pies on a small plate near the chimney for Santa. This was a sign that the moment of Santa's arrival was imminent.
Eventually Johnny was overcome with tiredness and fell fast asleep. Soon he began to dream of all the wonderful gifts that Santa would bring. Johnny had…
