The old lady kept sweeping, despite the supernova, despite the posh strangers passing through. She didn’t know what she was missing. Yet.

The sun stands still. But when light hits the very back of the box, we know we’ll be golden, once again.

On the twelfth day, she gave all the presents back, because she couldn't be bought with partridges, pears, or lords.

Krampus roams through winter, whip in hand. He was Santa’s man till PR fired him, but he’s independent now.

Her wish list was one item: winter wrapped in a box, so she could open it in July.

I will step into the night, wearing a cloak of snow and frost, and I will dance.