For her, it was a Christmas Eve night like any other she’d experienced in her short life. The girl lay, quite awake, under the pile of blankets in her bed. Try as she might, she couldn’t get herself to fall asleep. Her mind was on all matter of things, from the shadows slinking around in her room, to what Santa Claus might or might not be bringing her this Christmas. Her stomach had a fluttery, almost nauseous sort of feeling to it, as it always seemed to have on the night before Christmas.

Christmas morning always took much, much longer to arrive than any other morning. Giving a little sigh, she pushed herself up in her bed. Listening, she could tell that her little sister, ever careless, was sound asleep in her bed. Her quiet snores brought a little peace to her wakeful sister’s mind, and made the shadows, the dark ones all around that seemed to be getting closer to her with each passing second, slow.

Quietly, she slipped from her bed and out of the room. Peeking into the living room, she could tell by the colorful lights of the tree that Santa had already come to their home. Immediate relief and excitement flooded her at the sight of the new gifts, only to be replaced with trepidation a minute later. Did Santa know that she’d snuck out of her bed to see? Was he mad at her for her impatience, perhaps already putting her on the Naughty list for next year?

Deciding not to spend any more time looking at the presents, she went to the window and peered outside as tiny flakes of snow fell slowly down from the sky. She shivered a little in her nightgown, cold. Lucky; every winter that she could remember, she’d always hoped for snow, but it was seldom that it ever happened enough to cover the entire outside in a blanket of the stuff, particularly on a day as special as Christmas. There was white every place that she looked, except for….

A frown marred her face. Except there was a man sitting under their tree, hair and clothes dark against the snow. He was pale, and he must have been freezing, outside like that.

She ran to the door, hand stopping on the knob as she hesitated. Her parents and teachers had warned her not to talk to strangers – That was practically all they talked about in school, “stranger danger”. But, it was Christmas, and he was all alone out in the cold; she couldn’t help the thought that ignoring him wasn’t the right thing to do.

Opening the door, she stared over at the man underneath their tree. His face had lifted, and he was looking over at her already. Not wanting to raise her voice to call him lest she wake her parents, she lifted an arm and waved him over. He stood from his spot in the snow, wiping it from his clothes, but didn’t move.

“You should go back inside.” Though his voice was quiet, she could hear him quite clearly from across the yard.

She shook her head and waved at him again. He took a step forward, but although his movements seemed slow, in the few seconds it took for her to look down at her cold, bare feet on the steps and then back up, he was standing right in front of her.

“Fast,” she said softly. He just looked at her.

His skin was icy and white enough to blend into the snow, but his eyes were wide and pale, like her mother’s, and she knew him as a ghost, the very first Christmas ghost she’d ever met.

She took his hand, so cold, into hers, and invited him inside. He didn’t speak, but followed her inside, and when she pushed him to sit down on the couch, he did so. She took the blanket that’d been folded in the seat next to him and spread it across his lap, hoping to warm him, even if he was a ghost.

The man, who looked younger than her own father, stared down at the little Christmas trees on the blanket in his lap, and then smiled up at her. “My, what a kind child you are, to help a stranger this way.”

She sat on the other side of him, looking at him, almost devoid of all color in his grey coat. “You’re not a stranger, though. You’re familiar.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Am I?” he asked. Although his tone stayed curious, there was something in his eyes that told her he had all the answers.

“Uh huh. You’re the man in mama’s pictures, from when she was little. You’re my grandpa.” The word, so unfamiliar on her tongue, left her lips and she knew, just knew that it was true. This was her mother’s father, and even though she didn’t understand why he looked so young or why he’d gone away for so long, he was a part of their family.

“Are you hungry?” she asked suddenly. “You could have the cookies Santa left. He must have been full.” She half-rose from her seat before his strong hand closed around her arm and stopped her. She looked up to see his lips, still smiling.

“I’m afraid I don’t eat cookies.”

Nodding, she sat back on the couch, staring at him. “So, what do you eat?’

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not hungry tonight, anyway.”

He didn’t talk much, and she couldn’t think of anything to say, so they just sat there until dawn began to light up the sky, slowly turning it from dark blue to grey. Christmas morning had finally decided to arrive, and she allowed herself to look at the tree again.

The air shifted, and she looked up to see her ghost standing up. “Aren’t you staying?” she cried, disappointed.

He only smiled at her distress, reaching forward to run his hand through her wavy brown hair. “I’m afraid I cannot, little child. I have to go before the sun comes up.”

“But why? Mama would like to see you… Isn’t that why you came, to see mama?” She looked up at him with wide eyes.

Slowly, he got to his knees and put a hand on her arm, stroked her hair. “Seeing you is enough for now.” He kissed her forehead, his lips freezing, and she closed her eyes as she tried not to cry. “I will come again. Next Christmas,” he whispered.

She wanted to say something else, to ask him to stay again, but when she opened her eyes, her Christmas ghost had gone.

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This was another of the wonderful Christmas Vampire stores written by my English 126 (Literature of Vampires) students this fall. I was blessed with a plethora of great writers in this particular class.