{"id":66246,"date":"2024-12-23T13:43:38","date_gmt":"2024-12-23T12:43:38","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/?p=66246"},"modified":"2024-12-23T13:44:20","modified_gmt":"2024-12-23T12:44:20","slug":"7th-english-language-creative-writing-marathon-christmas-edition","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/fr\/2024\/12\/7th-english-language-creative-writing-marathon-christmas-edition\/","title":{"rendered":"7th English-language Creative Writing Marathon &#8211; Christmas edition"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Students from year 9, 2nde, 1\u00e8re, and Tle came together on Friday, 6th December to unleash their imagination and craft amazing stories &amp; poems.<\/p>\n<p>With snacks shared and ideas exchanged, participants enjoyed a relaxed atmosphere where they could write freely, and seek advice from our supportive English teachers. The energy was palpable as everyone dove into their writing, and many were thrilled at the possibility of having their texts published on our school website!<\/p>\n<div id='gallery-1' class='gallery galleryid-66246 gallery-columns-2 gallery-size-large'><figure class='gallery-item'>\n\t\t\t<div class='gallery-icon landscape'>\n\t\t\t\t<a href='https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161414-scaled.jpg'><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1249\" height=\"937\" src=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161414-2000x1500.jpg\" class=\"attachment-large size-large\" alt=\"7th English-language Creative Writing Marathon\" srcset=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161414-2000x1500.jpg 2000w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161414-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161414-150x113.jpg 150w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161414-768x576.jpg 768w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161414-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161414-2048x1536.jpg 2048w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161414-267x200.jpg 267w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1249px) 100vw, 1249px\" \/><\/a>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/figure><figure class='gallery-item'>\n\t\t\t<div class='gallery-icon landscape'>\n\t\t\t\t<a href='https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161447-scaled.jpg'><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1249\" height=\"937\" src=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161447-2000x1500.jpg\" class=\"attachment-large size-large\" alt=\"7th English-language Creative Writing Marathon\" srcset=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161447-2000x1500.jpg 2000w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161447-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161447-150x113.jpg 150w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161447-768x576.jpg 768w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161447-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161447-2048x1536.jpg 2048w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161447-267x200.jpg 267w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1249px) 100vw, 1249px\" \/><\/a>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/figure><figure class='gallery-item'>\n\t\t\t<div class='gallery-icon landscape'>\n\t\t\t\t<a href='https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161456-scaled.jpg'><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1249\" height=\"937\" src=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161456-2000x1500.jpg\" class=\"attachment-large size-large\" alt=\"7th English-language Creative Writing Marathon\" srcset=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161456-2000x1500.jpg 2000w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161456-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161456-150x113.jpg 150w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161456-768x576.jpg 768w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161456-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161456-2048x1536.jpg 2048w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161456-267x200.jpg 267w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1249px) 100vw, 1249px\" \/><\/a>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/figure><figure class='gallery-item'>\n\t\t\t<div class='gallery-icon landscape'>\n\t\t\t\t<a href='https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161521-scaled.jpg'><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1249\" height=\"937\" src=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161521-2000x1500.jpg\" class=\"attachment-large size-large\" alt=\"7th English-language Creative Writing Marathon\" srcset=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161521-2000x1500.jpg 2000w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161521-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161521-150x113.jpg 150w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161521-768x576.jpg 768w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161521-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161521-2048x1536.jpg 2048w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161521-267x200.jpg 267w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1249px) 100vw, 1249px\" \/><\/a>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/figure><figure class='gallery-item'>\n\t\t\t<div class='gallery-icon landscape'>\n\t\t\t\t<a href='https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161538-scaled.jpg'><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1249\" height=\"937\" src=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161538-2000x1500.jpg\" class=\"attachment-large size-large\" alt=\"7th English-language Creative Writing Marathon\" srcset=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161538-2000x1500.jpg 2000w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161538-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161538-150x113.jpg 150w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161538-768x576.jpg 768w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161538-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161538-2048x1536.jpg 2048w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_161538-267x200.jpg 267w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1249px) 100vw, 1249px\" \/><\/a>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/figure><figure class='gallery-item'>\n\t\t\t<div class='gallery-icon landscape'>\n\t\t\t\t<a href='https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_171116-scaled.jpg'><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1249\" height=\"937\" src=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_171116-2000x1500.jpg\" class=\"attachment-large size-large\" alt=\"7th English-language Creative Writing Marathon\" srcset=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_171116-2000x1500.jpg 2000w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_171116-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_171116-150x113.jpg 150w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_171116-768x576.jpg 768w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_171116-1536x1152.jpg 1536w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_171116-2048x1536.jpg 2048w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/20241206_171116-267x200.jpg 267w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1249px) 100vw, 1249px\" \/><\/a>\n\t\t\t<\/div><\/figure>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\n<p>A huge thank you to everyone who participated and contributed to the success of this event. Here are some of the texts that emerged from this night of creativity:<\/p>\n<div class=\"responsive-tabs\">\n<h2 class=\"tabtitle\">The Frosted Secret<\/h2>\n<div class=\"tabcontent\">\n\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-66247\" src=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/The-frosted-secret-scaled.jpg\" alt=\"The frosted secret\" width=\"2011\" height=\"2560\" srcset=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/The-frosted-secret-scaled.jpg 2011w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/The-frosted-secret-236x300.jpg 236w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/The-frosted-secret-1571x2000.jpg 1571w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/The-frosted-secret-118x150.jpg 118w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/The-frosted-secret-768x977.jpg 768w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/The-frosted-secret-1207x1536.jpg 1207w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/The-frosted-secret-1609x2048.jpg 1609w, https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/The-frosted-secret-157x200.jpg 157w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 2011px) 100vw, 2011px\" \/><\/p>\n\n<\/div><h2 class=\"tabtitle\">The chimney<\/h2>\n<div class=\"tabcontent\">\n\n<p>On a sweet Christmas Night, the kind when you can hear the show flakes tingling the windows, the warmth of the fire is still hugging you dearly, the smell of that freshly baked sweet potato pie. That night, when you can still see the Christmas tree&rsquo;s lights under your bedroom door. I was sleeping comfortably when my body decided to turn itself against me; I had to go to the bathroom&#8230; Must have been because of all that Gl\u00fchwein I drank right before. I decided to not go into the downstairs bathroom, like I normally do. There just was this weird energy down the hall, I couldn&rsquo;t risk it. So because this isn&rsquo;t a horror story, I went into the guests&rsquo; bathroom and then back to bed. But then again I couldn&rsquo;t sleep; I just became insanely thirsty. At that point, I didn&rsquo;t have any other choice but go fetch a glass of fresh water downstairs. As I came down the creaky stairs, I couldn&rsquo;t help but imagine how cool it&rsquo;d be if I died abducted by aliens, on a Christmas night, just for water. Once I arrived at the fridge&rsquo;s fresh water dispenser, I quickly drank it to the last sip. Recalling that moment, I think that was the best water I had ever drunk. I was just turning around to go back to the stairs, when my head snapped back and had to turn around just to be sure of what I witnessed. I think that at that moment, my heart really skipped a whole bet. There where boots in the chimney, and I think I might have even heard a deep voice coughing. In a matter of seconds, all of my senses where heightened and I grabbed the first self defence object I could find: a baguette? Doesn&rsquo;t matter! I did not have the time to change my weapon! \u00ab\u00a0Who are you, and what are you doing in my by house, even weirder, why are you STUCK IN MY BLOODY CHIMNEY ?!\u201d, I shouted, scared that I might even get an answer. \u00ab\u00a0Come on now, state your name and your date of birth\u201d, I then went on, like some weird scared police officer, embarrassingly attempting to intimidate him.<br \/>\n\u201cEhm\u2026 Hi, Alex, it\u2019s me\u2026 Dad\u201d I was in shock.<br \/>\n\u201cOk, wow. I am glad to see you came back from your business trip, but what are you doing in the chimney!!\u201d \u201cI think that I forgot my keys.\u00a0\u00bb \u201cAnd, what? Your first reflex is to go down the chimney, not to call me first? \u00a0\u00bb \u201cOH!&#8230; I guess I didn\u2019t think of that&#8230; Well, that surely is a weird way of greeting your Dad back. Now hurry up and help me, I am not going to stay here forever, am I?\u201d I thought for a moment, and then responded \u00ab\u00a0You got there on your own, you\u2019re going to get out of there alone too. I am going back to bed. Goodnight, Dad.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The End.<\/p>\n\n<\/div><h2 class=\"tabtitle\">Friday the 24th<\/h2>\n<div class=\"tabcontent\">\n\n<p>FRIDAY THE 24<sup>TH<\/sup><\/p>\n<p>By Arto Tchalikian<\/p>\n<p>PROLOGUE<\/p>\n<p>My name is Gabriel. Gabriel Sins. My family consists of just me, my parents, and my older sister, Emma. My parents are really kind people. Although my sister can be annoying, she is also nice. My family and I do some odd tradition of going camping every Christmas Eve. We told that to our friends, and our friends told to their other friends\u2026 In short, less and less places are available for camping.<\/p>\n<p>My dad rented out a little house in a forest that is pretty far away. Other nearby forests are taken by other campers, or there\u2019s no shelter. It was pretty cold, but we came prepared. My family and I came to the little wooden house to stay until the next morning. The house was in a forest where it only had Norway Spruces. Norway Spruces are the types of Christmas trees you see almost everywhere. Apparently, the rent was pretty cheap and the house was pretty comfortable inside. The rent was so cheap because the previous owner said he was \u201cbeing watched\u201d. But who in their right mind would stay out there in a forest? The previous owner must be hallucinating. It must be a squirrel or another animal.<\/p>\n<p>Chapter 1: Everything is fine\u2026<\/p>\n<p>We set in the house, packed everything and so on. I tested out the sofa and it was pretty nice and cozy. The electricity was perfectly fine, and so was the water. After half a day of hard work of putting on decorations for the Christmas spirit, I was able to play outside in the snow for a bit with my sister. There was much more snow than other camping spots, we had fun together. Building snowmen, having snowball fights, etc. In the meantime, my parents found the Norway Spruce at the nearest distance from our house, then started decorating it. It was pretty big, so we did need more time than usual. We had fun on our first day. We were only staying for one night, the Christmas night. After hours of hard work, the decorations of the tree were completely finished. It gave plenty of Christmas spirit. It felt good looking at what you have achieved with hard work and dedication.<\/p>\n<p>Minute after minute, hour after hour, daytime became nighttime. Daytime was shorter than usual as it is winter. We were watching a few Christmas movies together, which was pretty nice. It felt good and cozy with everyone. Although it felt like someone is watching us from the window, nobody was there whenever I looked outside. Just the cold wind blowing with the snow. Everything was fine. Until\u2026<\/p>\n<p>Chapter 2: \u2026right?<\/p>\n<p>The lights started to flicker. They started flickering more and more often as time passed. It became frustrating the more it flickered. \u201cBloody hell, what\u2019s happening?\u201d said my dad, angered of the lights flickering. Until suddenly, everything stops. The lights are turned off. The TV screen was pitch black. It was dark. Very dark. Pitch black. I couldn\u2019t see a thing. I stood up from the sofa, searching for the light switch. I found it, but it didn\u2019t do anything. It was no use. My mother took out a flashlight to light out the way.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSeems the power\u2019s out. Guess someone\u2019s got to turn it back on. The electrical panel is in the basement. Anyone brave enough to turn it back on?\u201d said my mom, holding the flashlight. \u201cI could go,\u201d I said bravely, \u201cNothing is bad with going to the basement for some time, right?\u201d. \u201cSure thing, but just hurry up. The heating\u2019s off and it\u2019s getting colder every minute.\u201d Said my sister. \u201cWell, I\u2019ll do as fast as I can, I guess. Are there other flashlights around here?\u201d I added. \u201cI\u2019m pretty sure there\u2019s one on the desk next to the bathroom upstairs.\u201d Answered my dad. \u201cGood. I\u2019m on it!\u201d I said before going upstairs to get the flashlight.<\/p>\n<p>It was very dark, but there was a lighter nearby that I could use. I tried to turn it on. It worked, but it took some time. It was dark. I was only able to see what was near the lighter. It was dark. I felt like being watched. I stepped into the corridor blindly, without knowing what would come. The previous owner was right about feeling like being watched. The corridor wasn\u2019t going to get any brighter anytime soon. After walking into the corridor, my heart started beating fast. There\u2019s nothing to worry about normally, but my instincts tell me that something dangerous is coming. I don\u2019t know where, I don\u2019t know what, I don\u2019t know when. As I stepped through the corridor more and more, I started seeing the flashlight from afar. I quickly grab it and rush downstairs. Something doesn\u2019t feel safe upstairs.<\/p>\n<p>Chapter 3: The basement<\/p>\n<p>I rushed to the basement with the flashlight in my hand and the lighter in my pocket, fearing the dangers of what could be hiding up there. If only I knew what horrors would happen next\u2026 As I rushed downstairs, my family is trying to put on a fire. I took a few winter clothes and went downstairs to turn the power back on. As I entered the basement, I carefully went down the stairs, listening if there\u2019s any unusual noise. But the only noise here are my own footsteps. As I stepped foot in the basement, noises like water dripping can be heard. I turn on my flashlight, looking for clues of where the water could be from. It seems it came from further in the basement. As I stepped further inside, I could see an electricity panel. That way, I could bring back power to the entire house. I could see a fire axe further away as well. I open the electrical panel quickly and turn on all the switches, but it made a mildly loud noise. Footsteps can be heard approaching the fire axe, then approaching me. I quickly hid away under a table, trying not to be spotted. Luckily, I was able to turn on all the lights. Now the only thing I have to do is to rush outside the basement. Doing it now won\u2019t do any good, he\u2019ll spot me. As he passes by, he starts looking around, trying to find whoever was the one who turned on the lights in the electrical panel. I hold my breath and crawl to the other side of the table while making the least noise possible. I managed to crawl to the other side and peek at who is holding the fire axe. He looked big and strong, and most likely a man. He had a mask on. One filled with holes all over the face. There are also bloodstains on his mask and clothes. It is a madman. He must\u2019ve murdered people.<\/p>\n<p>While trying to get up, I hit something. It made a noise. He heard it. He quickly approached me, swinging his axe to my head. And all of a sudden, I woke up. I try to catch my breath from the serious moment that I just escaped. But something doesn\u2019t feel right. I look around. I am on a hospital bed, with my hands cuffed to the bed itself. The man in my dream appeared again, slicing off the heads of many other people, including my unconscious family. It\u2019s a matter of time until it\u2019s my turn. It was all a dream. Or was it a memory?<\/p>\n\n<\/div><h2 class=\"tabtitle\">Moon from the sun<\/h2>\n<div class=\"tabcontent\">\n\n<p>The sun shines bright<br \/>\nToo bright<br \/>\nThe moon reflects<br \/>\nJust perfect<br \/>\nThe sun wants to be like the moon.<br \/>\nEspecially in the afternoon<br \/>\nThe moon wants to be like the sun<br \/>\nBut then it would be a gun<\/p>\n<p>Optimistic is the sun<br \/>\nRealistic the moon<\/p>\n<p>The sun will eventually burn you<br \/>\nWhen you enjoy the view<br \/>\nThe moon will never scare you away<br \/>\nin any way<\/p>\n<p>Too bright is the sun<br \/>\nToo bright<br \/>\nThe moon reflects<br \/>\nJust perfect<\/p>\n<p>Blamed by earth for everything<br \/>\nThe sun<br \/>\nThe solution for everything.<br \/>\nThe moon<\/p>\n<p>Opposites attract<br \/>\nEclipse<\/p>\n\n<\/div><h2 class=\"tabtitle\">The sun from the moon<\/h2>\n<div class=\"tabcontent\">\n\n<p>The moon can&rsquo;t express itself.<br \/>\nQuiet self<br \/>\nThe sun outshines everyone<br \/>\nIt won<\/p>\n<p>Always trying its best<br \/>\nNever valued<br \/>\nAlways treated like trash<br \/>\nAlways blamed<br \/>\nAlways bottling everything up<\/p>\n<p>Explodes soon<br \/>\nThe sun<\/p>\n<p>Just a reflection<br \/>\nAlways there<br \/>\nBut barely noticed<\/p>\n<p>Only just a reflection<br \/>\nNever its own light<br \/>\nThe moon<\/p>\n<p>Trying to help<\/p>\n<p>Doing their best<br \/>\nFailing still<\/p>\n<p>Exploding soon<br \/>\nThe sun<\/p>\n<p>Needs others<br \/>\nBut others don&rsquo;t need the moon<br \/>\nDoing their best<br \/>\nBut being too quiet to share<\/p>\n<p>Overshadowed<\/p>\n<p>Opposites attract<br \/>\nEclipse<\/p>\n\n<\/div><h2 class=\"tabtitle\">Frosted Delusions<\/h2>\n<div class=\"tabcontent\">\n\n<p>It was winter 1969, when Sylvia woke up in her bed interrupted by a sound downstairs. She turned to her window where snowfalkes tumbled lazily from the sky. \u00a0When she looked through the window, she saw footsteps left on her snow-dusted rooftop. Everything felt different even though it was a normal winter night. She spun around, and there he was: Santa Claus himself. His crimson coat glowed in the light ofthe tree, and his eyes sparkled with kindness. Frightented by his presence she fell to the floor.<br \/>\n\u201eWell hello there!\u201c said Santa in a soothing and deep voice. His smile was wide and bright just like she imagined when she was a kid. His beard was the longest and the bushiest that she\u2019d ever seen. It was as white as the snow, and his eyes were glowing in the dimm light of the fire in the fireplace. She\u2018d never thaught that she would meet him because throughout her whole life she believed that he was made up. But turns out that he was real and alive. Standing in front ofher.<br \/>\n\u201eSanta?\u201c she wispered, her voice trembling.<br \/>\n\u201eIs this Michigan?\u201c he asked.<br \/>\n\u201eThis is Colorado\u201c she answerd with a small chuckle.<br \/>\nAnd just like that they started laughing. While he was laughing from pure joy and gaiety, she was laughing hysterically and in panic not knowining if he was actually real or if she\u2019d gone insane.<br \/>\n\u201eYou\u2019re Sylvia Johnson, right?\u201c he asked while pointing his wrinkly finger at her.<br \/>\n\u201eHow did you know?\u201c she gasped surprised, already knowing the incoming answer.<br \/>\n\u201eWell what did you expect, I am Santa Claus!\u201c he screamed with pride.<br \/>\n\u201eAnd because I want you to remember me I am going to give you this doll that I specifically made for you.\u201c<br \/>\nShe reached out, delicately looking at the doll that resembled her. She was in awe of this present. It was so realistic that she felt like she was looking at a mirror. Pleased and joyful she hugged him and thanked him for the present. From this day on Santa visited her every night telling her all kinds of stories about his life and all the places he visited. They built a strong bond and she even viewed him as a friend.<br \/>\nOne day she encountered her friend on the street. She told her about the late night talks she\u2019s been having with her \u201efriend\u201c. Moments later, a familiar figure emerged from the snow-dusted street\u2014a broad man in a red coat with a long white beard. His cheeks were rosy, his eyes bright, and his laugh, as always, was infectious.<br \/>\n\u00ab\u00a0Santa!\u00a0\u00bb Sylvia called, waving.<br \/>\n\u00ab\u00a0Sylvia, my dear!\u00a0\u00bb Santa bellowed, his voice carrying over the din of the city. He pulled her into a warm hug, his coat smelling of pine and cookies. \u00ab\u00a0You&rsquo;re looking as radiant as ever.\u00a0\u00bb<br \/>\nShe laughed, brushing snow off his sleeve. \u00ab\u00a0You&rsquo;re always so full of compliments. C&rsquo;mon, I want you to meet someone special.\u00a0\u00bb<br \/>\nThey strolled through the park, the snow crunching underfoot. Sylvia chatted excitedly about her life and her plans, while Santa nodded along, chiming in with his usual wisdom and good-natured humour.<br \/>\nFinally they reached her friend, Pearl, who was waiting.<br \/>\n\u201eTheres she is!\u201c she said, beaming with joy. \u201eYou\u2019re going to love her.\u2019\u2019<br \/>\nShe walked up to Pearl with a big smile on her face and flushed cheeks from the cold. Pearl stood, curious, as Sylvia gestured next to her.<br \/>\n,,Say hi to my friend\u00a0!\u2019\u2019 she said, but there was no one there. There never was.<\/p>\n\n<\/div><h2 class=\"tabtitle\">The Day Santa Died<\/h2>\n<div class=\"tabcontent\">\n\n<p>It happened one year apart.<\/p>\n<p>No snow, not by any chance a \u201cWhite Christmas\u201d.<\/p>\n<p>Just rain.<\/p>\n<p>Tons of rain, or were those my tears?<\/p>\n<p>I don\u2019t remember.<\/p>\n<p>Or do I just not want to remember?<\/p>\n<p>I should have known it from the start.<\/p>\n<p>When they said there wouldn\u00b4t be a White Christmas.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNot by any chance.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>We always had snow during the holidays.<\/p>\n<p>Always.<\/p>\n<p>But not that year.<\/p>\n<p>The year everything fell apart.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>***********************************************<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>The 25<sup>th<\/sup> of December always had a chokehold on me.<\/p>\n<p>Christmas was just magical. Something about it made me instantly happy. Christmas time was by far the best time of the year. Not only for me, also for my family. For some families Christmas is no big deal, but believe me, when I tell you that my family is special. Christmas was the biggest event, bigger than all of our five birthdays combined. Gingerbread houses, more than 20 different types of cookies, 5 Christmas trees, lights, tons of decoration (more than you could ever imagine, even our bed sheets and curtains had a Christmas pattern at that time of the year), and of course the presents! I feel like my mom started buying Christmas presents for the next year already one day after the holidays and every year, she got more creative.\u00a0 2 years ago she built my little sister an automatic food dispenser for her cat Snowflake (See? Even our cat is named after a Christmas-themed thing), so she can be fed automatically when we\u00b4re not at home. You can\u00b4t even imagine my sister\u00b4s eyes when she unwrapped that gift. For me that was the magic of Christmas. Not even the gifts that I received. For me the magic was seeing my siblings that happy and excited, because they still believed in Santa. I think that was what made it so special for them. I never thought that it would be that fulfilling to have younger siblings and it makes it definitely easier that they\u00b4re not 2 but 12 years apart. Being the older sister fits me pretty well, I think. I promised my mom that I would always protect them, but I didn\u2019t know how much they would really need me one day.<\/p>\n<p>The memories.<\/p>\n<p>The flashbacks.<\/p>\n<p>They\u00b4re back.<\/p>\n<p>Overcoming me like a sudden lightning.<\/p>\n<p>The day after the accident. Seeing them that sad made my heart burst into two. I was heartbroken too, I almost couldn\u2019t manage it, couldn\u00b4t breathe and I definitely couldn\u2019t manage the funeral, but seeing these little beings, who shouldn\u2019t be worried about anything at all, that down, made me depressed.<\/p>\n<p>Okay stop it!<\/p>\n<p>I want to erase these memories from my mind. This isn\u2019t supposed to be a sad story. I wanted to remind myself of the positive, mesmerising and magical effect Christmas had on me, but it\u00b4s just not the same anymore. My therapist recommended writing this Christmas appreciation thing to make the holidays bearable for me this year. After everything that happened Last Christmas. But it is not useful at all. Now I hate Christmas. Everything about it makes me upset and seeing all the holly jolly faces, the cinnamon scent and all of those terribly tacky decorations make me sick! I some kind of think that they don\u2019t deserve to be happy, because I will never be able again. But somehow this anger is not a big help, because only a few moments after I\u00b4m down again, all parts of my body go numb and I break down.<\/p>\n<p>I still don\u00b4t remember every part of the day it happened, my therapist says its PTSD, and my brain tries to erase most of that day, because the memories are to traumatising to process, but unluckily I can remember the most traumatising memories of that day as if they happened yesterday. The blood running from our chimney, my mother\u00b4s terribly loud screams, my uncle trying to re-animate him, me trying to protect my siblings by running away with them and playing in my room, trying to hide my tears from them.<\/p>\n<p>It could have been the most perfect Christmas of all time.<\/p>\n<p>My mother invites our whole family every year, but that year was the first time everyone, like really everyone, agreed to come. We prepared our house for decades and that year we really had the biggest and brightest Christmas decorations of the whole town. We even had inflatable reindeers and a sleigh, which costed my mother 6 weeks to prepare.\u00a0 Even my brother, who was only 5 years old at that time, helped decorating the 8 ft. tall tree my father fell.\u00a0 My 7 years old sister and I prepared the dining table and helped my mother with the turkey, the Brussel sprouts, the potato casserole and of course the chestnut cake, my mother\u00b4s specialty. Nearly everything was prepared when my family arrived. The atmosphere was incredibly harmonious, almost too good to be true. The only thing missing was the snow. That should have been an indicator. That should have warned me. From the most perfect Christmas Eve to the worst nightmare, the worst morning I have ever experienced.<\/p>\n<p>After this great evening the morning was supposed to become even greater. My father always dressed up as Santa the 25<sup>th<\/sup> of December, but last year he decided to actually climb down the chimney to surprise my siblings. Looking back at it now it was the silliest, most dangerous idea he ever had, but back then it sounded perfect, funny and safe. Even in our worst nightmares we could never have imagined what happened next. Everything seemed so safe. We prepared the chimney. We made it safe for him. Everything went great during all of the rehearsals we had. We had like 10-15 rehearsals and he wasn\u2019t harmed in any of them. This morning just changed everything.<\/p>\n<p>When I try to remember how it exactly happened, all I see is blur. Everything happened so fast. My mother called my siblings and promised them a big surprise. When they rushed down the stairs, my father was supposed to climb down, but he somehow got stuck. My mother tried to help him, but when she pulled him down, he fell on his head and immediately started bleeding. Now everything happened way too fast to process all of it. My mother screams, cries, calls for my uncle, he tries to re-animate him\u2026<\/p>\n<p>Meanwhile I\u00b4m frozen. It takes 2 minutes, at least, for me to realize what\u00b4s really going on. As fast as I can I grab my brother\u00b4s and sister\u00b4s hands and rush up the stairs. My room becomes our safe place, while my heart is still beating faster than ever. I try to hide it, but I need to cry. It just overcomes me. I try to be strong for my siblings, but I can\u00b4t. My sister, not knowing, what\u00b4s going on, asks me: \u201cWhy are you crying? Is Santa dead now?\u201d I\u00b4m not able to answer. I\u00b4m mentally absent.<\/p>\n<p>The next 11 months were hard. But this Christmas will be a lot harder. Christmas has lost its magic. For all of us.<\/p>\n<p>When will this pain and pressure on my chest go away?<\/p>\n<p>Will my siblings be able to love Christmas again?<\/p>\n<p>Will I ever be able to survive Christmas without thinking about him?<\/p>\n<p>This Christmas not only my father, but also Santa died.<\/p>\n<p>And with that also my unconditional love for Christmas.<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n<div class=\"shariff shariff-align-flex-start shariff-widget-align-flex-start shariff-buttonstretch\" style=\"display:none\"><ul class=\"shariff-buttons theme-white orientation-horizontal buttonsize-medium\"><li class=\"shariff-button facebook shariff-nocustomcolor\" style=\"background-color:#4273c8\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/sharer\/sharer.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fdfg-lfa.org%2Ffr%2F2024%2F12%2F7th-english-language-creative-writing-marathon-christmas-edition%2F\" title=\"Envoyer par Facebook\" aria-label=\"Envoyer par Facebook\" role=\"button\" rel=\"nofollow\" class=\"shariff-link\" style=\"; background-color:#3b5998; 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color:#999\" target=\"_blank\"><span class=\"shariff-icon\" style=\"fill:#999\"><svg width=\"32px\" height=\"20px\" xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" viewBox=\"0 0 11 32\"><path fill=\"#999\" d=\"M11.4 24v2.3q0 0.5-0.3 0.8t-0.8 0.4h-9.1q-0.5 0-0.8-0.4t-0.4-0.8v-2.3q0-0.5 0.4-0.8t0.8-0.4h1.1v-6.8h-1.1q-0.5 0-0.8-0.4t-0.4-0.8v-2.3q0-0.5 0.4-0.8t0.8-0.4h6.8q0.5 0 0.8 0.4t0.4 0.8v10.3h1.1q0.5 0 0.8 0.4t0.3 0.8zM9.2 3.4v3.4q0 0.5-0.4 0.8t-0.8 0.4h-4.6q-0.4 0-0.8-0.4t-0.4-0.8v-3.4q0-0.4 0.4-0.8t0.8-0.4h4.6q0.5 0 0.8 0.4t0.4 0.8z\"\/><\/svg><\/span><\/a><\/li><\/ul><\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Students from year 9, 2nde, 1\u00e8re, and Tle came together on Friday, 6th December to unleash their imagination and craft amazing stories &amp; poems. With snacks shared and ideas exchanged, participants enjoyed a relaxed atmosphere where they could write freely, and seek advice from our supportive English teachers. The energy &hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":66264,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"inline_featured_image":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-66246","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-schule-aktuell"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v27.3 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>7th English-language Creative Writing Marathon - Christmas edition - Lyc\u00e9e Franco-Allemand de Sarrebruck<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/dfg-lfa.org\/fr\/2024\/12\/7th-english-language-creative-writing-marathon-christmas-edition\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"fr_FR\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"7th English-language Creative Writing Marathon - Christmas edition - Lyc\u00e9e Franco-Allemand de Sarrebruck\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Students from year 9, 2nde, 1\u00e8re, and Tle came together on Friday, 6th December to unleash their imagination and craft amazing stories &amp; poems. With snacks shared and ideas exchanged, participants enjoyed a relaxed atmosphere where they could write freely, and seek advice from our supportive English teachers. 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