Write a creative Christmas story. Be sure to include characters, a magical setting, dialogue, and fun! The more detailed and creative; the better your grade

Have you ever fallen out of a flying sleigh led by eight reindeer going at 100 or more miles per hour? yeah me neither. that is, until last Christmas. I was going downstairs for a cup of hot cocoa when I heard a loud THUMP. At first, I thought it was a burglar and panicked. but then I saw a pair of black boots and an enormous red body strolling around my living room.

When he saw me, he almost jumped with fright. He told me that I shouldn't be there. Shouldn't be there? It's my own house? He's the one who was breaking and entering! I was about to tell him off when he flew up onto the roof and shouted for the reindeer to move. What on earth was happening? Was I seriously getting kidnapped by Santa Claus?

I must have been dreaming. When the sleigh started to move, I nearly threw up. But eventually i calmed down. It was actually really fun. but soon we were going really fast. before i knew it, we were in paris! i watched the beautiful city drift underneath us and fell into a trance. We soon floated up above the clouds. all of a sudden, the sleigh was moving out of control! we couldnt get it to go back on track. i felt so dizzy, i nearly fell out the sleigh! actually i did!

i was falling down through the soft clouds as i watched the starry sky swirl above my head. before i knew what had happened, i was in my bed, drifting fastly to sleep.

Little Timothy sat at the window, his blue, sparkling eyes barely peering above the windowsill; only his short, blonde hair and forehead was visible if you were to look into that window from outside.

Tiny snowflakes swayed softly as they fell down from the clouds. Christmas lights inside and out g. His reindeer pajamas were soft and warm, but were perfect enough to let the warmth of the fireplace wrap around him and give him a sensational feeling that it's hugging him.

"Mama!" Little Timothy called, turning his head from the window to direct his voice. Then, he remembered he had to keep an eye on the sky, and he quickly turned right back around.

"Yes, Tim?" his mother asked, poking her head out of the kitchen. Her long brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun on her head, and although she tried to hide it, her face wore an somber expression.

"When's Santa coming?" Timothy asked the window, starting to bounce on his toes. His eyes were burning from keeping them in one place, but he had to see Santa tonight!

His mother chuckled. "Sweetie, Santa only comes at night," she told him, smiling.

Timothy frowned. "But it is nighttime, Mama. See? It's dark."

His mother laughed again softly, and she set down her mixing bowl. She walked over to him and crouched down so that she was level to him.

"Oh, sweetie, what are you doing by the window?" she asked softly. Timothy's eyes never left the view in front of him.

"Watching for Santa, Mama." he said. He wanted to look at her to see how she was reacting, but he didn't want to chance missing Santa.

"Well, then I guess he'll never come," she sighed. Timothy finally peeled his eyes away to give his mother a confused look, then shot them out the window once again. "Santa only comes when children are sleeping." she added sorrowfully. "And if you're trying to see Santa, it'll only be seeing him skip past our house." Mama wiped away a fake tear and sniffed. Timothy's eyes widened and he wasn't focusing out the window anymore (although he was still looking).

"He's not watching for Santa, Mother," Timothy's older brother, Michael remarked as he walked past. "He's waiting for Father." Michael snatched a biscuit off the counter and snarfed it down.

"Michael, dear, we all understand that Father won't be coming home for Christmas, correct?" Mother said, standing up. Her fake somberness was quickly replaced with the real kind. Mother always got upset at even the thought of Father, much less when he was talked about.

what passage could you provide the passage.