The previous Christmas my big brother got into a car accident, when he was on his way to buy the turkey. Me and my father learnt about that accident when we were watching the news on TV. My father told my mother about it and the search for him began. We saw him just a few miles away, he called ***, they came as soon as possible. My father was crying but I couldn't understand why. After a while we learnt that my brother was dead. I asked him what he meant by my brother was dead and he answered my question.

My real happiness was gone and I was starting to feel very depressed slowly-slowly. I couldn't accept the fact that my brother was gone. I lost my sparkle in my eyes time by time. I couldn't move on because, I loved and still love him a lot. He was so nice, sweet, kind, caring… My parents couldn't stand to see me crying.

When I was eighteen years old my parents gift was a doll which looked exactly like my brother. The reason that my parents had bought me that doll was to remember my brother and stay strong, but, it made me cry. Some days later I knew that the doll was my brother because he went to his human size and then to his tiny doll size. I had already promised to him to tell my parents a few days later about this.

A three days later I told my parents about my “dead” brother at firstly they didn't believed me. But a few minutes later they believed me & we were a happy family again.

The End.

Thank you for reading my Christmas Story, stay safe, with a lot of love from me