Once upon a time, in a small town blanketed with snow, there lived a little boy named David. David was excited because this was his very first Christmas in his new home, and he couldn't wait to decorate the Christmas tree with his family.

It was the evening after Thanksgiving when his parents brought in the tree—tall and proud, with branches like arms reaching to the ceiling. The lights twinkled like tiny stars, and the smell of fresh pine filled the room. David’s eyes grew wide with wonder as his mom and dad carefully hung the sparkling ornaments.

But David, though excited, was a little unsure. He had never decorated a tree before, and he wasn’t sure where his place was in this special tradition. As his parents hung golden bells and colorful baubles, David stood quietly by, watching.

That’s when his mother noticed him and smiled. “David,” she said softly, “I think there’s one ornament just for you.”

David’s eyes widened. “For me?”

His mom walked over to a box tucked in the corner of the room. She pulled out a small, delicate ornament that shone like the evening sky—an old glass star, its surface shimmering with gold and silver swirls. “This,” she said, “was the very first ornament your dad and I bought when we started our family. It’s special. And now, it’s your turn to hang it on the tree.”

David’s heart swelled with warmth as he held the ornament in his hands. It was so light, it almost felt like it could float away. He could see the reflection of the twinkling lights dancing across its surface, like a little piece of magic caught inside.

"Do you know why this ornament is so special?" his dad asked, kneeling down beside him.
David shook his head, gazing at the star in awe.

“Every year,” his dad explained, “we hang this ornament to remind us of all the love and memories we’ve created together as a family. And now, this star will be part of your memories, too. Each time you hang it, you’re adding to the story of our Christmases."

David felt a little thrill inside. He carefully walked to the tree, his small hand trembling just a little as he reached up to place the star at the very top. It felt just right, as if the star had been waiting there for him all along.

As he stepped back to admire the tree, David felt a warmth in his heart. The star didn’t just shine with lights, but with the love of the people around him. It was his very first ornament, and it would always remind him of his family, his home, and the magic of Christmas.

That night, as snowflakes fell gently outside, David curled up in his bed, the soft glow of the Christmas tree lighting up the room. He smiled to himself, feeling safe and peaceful, knowing that every Christmas from now on, the star would shine above them, a symbol of everything that made their family special.

And as he drifted off to sleep, David knew that with each passing year, the tree—and the star—would only grow brighter, just like the love in his heart.

~Wylddane

It was the night before Christmas, and little Rick was tucked snugly in his cozy bed, staring out the window at the soft, falling snow. He had never seen snow before, and it made his heart feel like it was dancing. It was his very first Christmas, and everything felt magical.

Rick had spent the whole day with his family. His mom and dad had decorated the tree with twinkling lights and shiny ornaments. Rick's eyes had grown wide when they hung the star on top—it sparkled so brightly, he thought it might be a piece of the sky.

But now, as the moonlight shone through his window, Rick was wide awake, excited and curious. He had heard so many stories about Christmas, but he still didn’t know exactly how it all worked. Would Santa really come? Would there be presents? And what about the reindeer? He could hardly wait!

His little stuffed bear, Mr. Tumbles, sat beside him on the bed, and Rick whispered to him, “Do you think Santa will come tonight?”

Mr. Tumbles, of course, didn’t answer, but Rick imagined that if he could speak, he would say, "I’m sure he will, Rick, and he’ll bring you something wonderful!"

Just then, Rick heard a soft thump on the roof. His eyes grew wide. Could it be…? Was Santa already here?

Suddenly, Rick’s door creaked open, and his mom peeked inside, her face glowing with a warm smile. “It’s time for bed, little one. You want to listen to a Christmas story?”

Rick nodded eagerly, pulling the covers up to his chin. His mom sat down beside him and began to read aloud. It was a story about a little reindeer who wanted to fly as fast as Santa’s sleigh. Rick listened intently, his eyes growing heavier with every word, until finally, he drifted off to sleep.

As he slept, something very special happened.

Outside, the snowflakes fell gently, covering the world in a soft blanket of white. And high above, Santa’s sleigh flew across the sky, with reindeer dancing through the clouds. Santa smiled as he gently landed on the roof of Rick’s house, carrying a sack filled with gifts.

He tiptoed down the chimney, his boots making barely a sound. He placed a shiny new toy train under the tree, beside a little stuffed reindeer, just for Rick. Then, he reached into his sack one last time and left a small note for the little boy.

It read:

"Merry Christmas, Rick! You are loved by so many. Sleep well and dream of the stars!"

When morning came, Rick woke up to find the room filled with the sweet smell of cinnamon and pine. His eyes sparkled as he saw the presents under the tree, and his heart skipped a beat when he spotted the toy train and the little reindeer.

He ran to his parents’ room, waking them with excited shouts. “Mom! Dad! Santa came! Look!” His parents, smiling sleepily, followed him downstairs, and together, they sat around the tree, laughing and hugging.

And so, Rick’s very first Christmas was filled with wonder and joy. That night, as he snuggled into bed again, he thought of all the magic he had experienced—and of how, in the quiet of the night, the world was full of love, warmth, and hope.

As he drifted off to sleep, he whispered softly to Mr. Tumbles, “Maybe next year we can stay awake and see Santa ourselves.”

But for now, he was content—because he knew that Christmas wasn’t just about presents. It was about love, kindness, and the magic that lived in every heart.
​
And with that, Rick closed his eyes, knowing that the best gift of all was already inside him.

~Wylddane

Once upon a time, in a cozy little house nestled at the edge of a snowy town, there was a Christmas tree ornament that had seen many, many Christmases. It was a simple thing, made of glass, with tiny flecks of gold shimmering through the clear surface. The ornament had once been a brilliant red, but over the years, it had faded to a soft, rosy hue, like a memory that had softened with time. It hung near the top of the tree, its reflection mingling with the twinkling lights and sparkling tinsel.

The ornament had been in the family for as long as anyone could remember. It had been passed down through generations, a gift from a grandmother to her daughter, then from mother to daughter, and so on. Every Christmas, it was carefully taken out of its velvet-lined box and placed on the tree, and each year, its importance grew, even if it wasn’t always noticed.

But this year, something was different. The family, though loving and kind, had grown busier. The children were older, their lives filled with school, sports, and friends. The house no longer smelled of freshly baked cookies, and the soft hum of carols didn’t play in the background as much. The tree itself, though adorned with many bright baubles, seemed to lack its usual sparkle.

On Christmas Eve, as the family settled into their evening routine, the ornament quietly swayed on the tree, feeling a little forgotten. It missed the days when the children would gather around, eager to hear the story of how it had come to be. It missed the sound of excited voices asking, “Where does this ornament come from, Grandma?”

But tonight, no one was there to ask. The house was silent, save for the soft crackle of the fireplace. Even the snow outside had slowed to a gentle whisper, covering the world in a blanket of white.

The old ornament sighed, its glass surface catching the soft light of the fire. As it hung there, it recalled the many Christmases it had witnessed: the tiny hands that had hung it on the tree for the first time, the laughter of children playing with their toys, the scent of pine and cinnamon wafting through the air. It remembered the joy and togetherness of those times, when everything felt simpler and the world seemed to sparkle with possibilities.

Suddenly, a soft creak echoed through the house—the sound of the front door opening. The family had returned from their holiday errands, and the house filled with warmth once again.

The youngest child, a girl named Lydia, walked over to the tree, her eyes wide with wonder. “Look, Mommy! The tree looks so pretty!” she exclaimed. Her eyes scanned the branches, tracing the shapes of each ornament, and then, almost by magic, they landed on the old glass ornament.

“Oh, that one! I remember,” Lydia said, reaching up on her tiptoes. She carefully picked it from the tree, holding it in her small hands as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Her mother smiled, walking over to her. “That ornament belonged to Grandma,” she explained softly, taking the ornament from Lydia and holding it up to the light. “It’s been in our family for many, many years.”

Lydia's eyes sparkled as she gazed at it. “Can I put it on the tree this year?”

Her mother nodded, her voice full of warmth. “Of course, sweetheart. Just like Grandma did when she was your age.”

Lydia, with careful hands, hung the ornament on the highest branch, just as it had been for so many Christmases before. As she stepped back to admire it, the ornament felt something it hadn't felt in a long time: truly seen. It had found its place once more in the heart of the family.

The room glowed with the soft light of the tree, and the ornament, though old and worn, knew that it had a part to play in the stories yet to come. It had weathered many seasons, but it would continue to shine, year after year, through the laughter and joy of Christmases to come.

And as the family gathered around the tree that night, with cocoa in hand and carols in the air, the old ornament glimmered softly, a gentle reminder of all the memories it had carried—and would continue to carry—into the future.

And so, the Christmas tree, the ornament, and the family all shared a quiet promise: no matter how much time passed, the most precious thing of all was the love that connected them, year after year.

​~Wylddane