I Found My Face on Our Haunted Christmas Angel

This porcelain angel has been watching my family for seventeen Christmases. Every December,

we place her on top of the tree, and every year, something changes. Her white dress,

once completely blank, now has faces painted across the fabric. Tiny,

detailed faces. My grandmother's face appeared the Christmas before she died.

Then my uncle's. Then my cousin's. Each one added to her gown like a collection.

We should have thrown her away. We should have burned her. But my mother insists

she's an heirloom, that breaking tradition would be disrespectful. Last night, I counted the faces

on her dress. Sixteen total. Sixteen family members, and eleven of them are already dead.