The Uninvited Christmas Guest
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Story 4: The Christmas Guest. My most vivid Christmas memory isn't of presents or family
cheer, but of pure, unadulterated fear. I was 12. We were at my grandparents'
farmhouse for Christmas dinner. A blizzard had been raging all day, cutting us off completely.
We felt safe and warm, a little bubble of light in the storm.
Around 8:00 PM, there was a knock on the door. We all froze. My grandfather,
a practical man, peered through the peephole. On the porch stood a man who looked
ancient, thin and shivering in a threadbare coat. He said his car
had slid off the road and he just needed to use the phone. In the spirit of
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