fsz75 fsk44 5h4hy rn6t9 h4ddn ih6e4 fkh5h a93n4 reaer yz5rd 42775 ieaek 4k3ad 8ad2n 6by7h 9s747 aty7n keyki 7dzyd 4te6e y3fdy The mysterious case of the evil Santa |

The mysterious case of the evil Santa

2021.12.02 06:47 Hervey_Copeland The mysterious case of the evil Santa

After several months of serious contemplation and many a sleepless night, I have finally decided to break my silence and tell my story. And it only seems fitting that I do so now, in the lead up to the holiday season. After all what I’m about to tell you took place almost a year ago to the day. I’d also like to add that you are the first one I turn to. No one else knows the full extent of my story, not even my wife. But it's eating me up inside, and I need to get it off my chest, so here goes;
Last year my parents invited my family and I to spend Christmas with them at their place in Montana. It was an invitation that I was more than happy to accept. I couldn’t wait to get out of the city for a week or two. So, on the nineteenth of December my wife and I, plus the kids set off from Seattle in high spirits in our Volvo x90, the middleclass version of the Ford F-150.
When we arrived at my parent’s a day later, we immediately got into the slower pace of life of the countryside and savored the calming effects of the crystal clean mountain air on the little block of land where I had spent my childhood years. And as is often the case when you're having a good time, surrounded by people you care about, the days just seemed to fly away. And before we knew it, Christmas Day was there. I awoke early in the morning to a fresh snowfall and the sun shining down from a cloudless sky, and I instantly knew that it was going to be a good day.
After breakfast my dad took me aside and asked me if I could drop off his old Santa Claus costume at his neighbor's house a few miles down the road. The neighbor, Dave had agreed to come to my parent’s place and play Santa this year. Dad, being the enthusiastic grandpa that he is, wanted to surprise the grandchildren with a visit from Father Christmas and give them a memory they could cherish for the rest of their lives.
So of course, I said yes. And to be honest I was happy to get out of the house and not having to be bossed around by my mother and sisters for an hour or two. They were all running around like headless chickens trying to get everything organized for the evening.
So, I jumped into my dad's pickup truck and started making my way down the icy road snaking its way into the valley, and for the next twenty minutes there were just trees, mountains, and snow as far as the eye could see. I should probably mention that the nearest town is forty miles away and that civilization in this neck of the woods consists of two houses, my parents’, and Dave's
When I got there, I found Dave in the front yard, busy cutting down trees. He's my dad's age, fit as a fiddle and enjoys the work that goes into maintaining a big property in the middle of the forest. He gave me a big grin when he saw me, and as I went over to say hello he extended a massive paw and gave me the firmest handshake I've ever had. Then we did what most people living in isolated places do when they get visitors, we sipped on cups of coffee and talked about anything and everything.
After half an hour I finally got the costume out from the back of the truck and put it on the front porch. I also made sure that I did the right thing and invited Dave to come and join us after he'd finished playing Santa Claus. However, he politely turned down the offer and told me he would be heading over to a friend's house in town later that evening. And as I jumped back in the truck, he promised to be there at around five. I stuck my arm out the window and waved goodbye, and before I reached the end of the driveway, I once again heard the high-pitched sound of a chainsaw digging into a pine tree.
Then five o'clock came around, and Dave knocked on the door dressed up as Santa Claus. And he truly looked the part. He was dressed in red and had put on a big white wig and a fake beard that covered most of his face. The look on the kids’ faces was priceless. There was absolutely no doubt in their mind that the guy standing before them was the real deal.
The show went on for a good fifteen minutes, and after all the presents had been handed out and all the questions that the kids had for Santa had been answered, Dave announced in a deep rumbling voice that it was time for him to head off back to the north pole. And as he was walking down the driveway, all the kids were glued to the window waving goodbye.
We spend three more days at my parent’s house, before we started on the return trip to Seattle. But before we left, I managed to convince my parents to come spend the next Christmas at our house in the city. In a way I was sad to leave, but I was also happy to head back home. The stay had made me realize that although I liked to get out of the city every now and then, the city was where I belonged. I could never settle down in a place like this.
The next time I heard from my parents was on New Year's Eve when I received a phone call from dad. I could tell straight away that he was upset. His voice was shaking, and he sounded like he was out of breath, and I immediately feared that something had happened to mom. I cursed silently and wished that they didn't have to live in such an isolated location. But it turned out that I was mistaken. There was nothing wrong with mom. And after having reassured myself of the fact, dad got straight to the point and told me that Dave was dead. Then he went on to describe what had happened and I felt my unease grow.
According to dad, Dave had been hit by a tall pine tree he’d been cutting down on his property. The sudden impact had killed him instantly. The police investigating the accident suspected that he must have tripped and not been able to get out of the way in time. I was absolutely stunned, but at the same time relieved that my parents were ok.
Then there was a long silence and all I could hear was my dad breathing heavily into the phone. And just as I was about to speak to break the awkward silence, my dad's voice came back over the ether again.
“Michael,” he said. “The coroner is adamant that the time of death was one o’clock in the afternoon on Christmas Day.”
Then the silence returned, and when I finally spoke, I blurted out that it could not possibly be the case, given that Dave was handing out presents to our kids later that evening. But dad just ignored my comment, and instead began to fill me in on the details. He told me that when Dave didn't show up at his friend's place later that evening, his friend had gotten worried and driven out to Dave’s house to find out what was going on. And when he got there shortly after seven, he had found Dave lying motionless on the ground with a tree on top of him.
His friend had immediately called the police, who had showed up less than an hour later and started gathering evidence. And this is where things started to get really creepy, because the bag containing the Santa outfit had not been touched. It was sitting in the same spot where I had left it when I dropped it off earlier that day, on the front porch.
The police had also determined that Dave's pickup truck had not been used for the last twenty-four hours. The engine was just as cold as old Dave lying under that big tree. It was the only vehicle he owned.
There was another long pause, and then all of a sudden I heard the words ‘Ho-Ho-Ho’ being repeated over and over in the background, and then my dad began to scream. This was followed by loud commotion and then the connection was abruptly cut and the only thing I could hear was the pulse hammering away inside my head.
At this point I was panicking. My head was filled with sinister thoughts about what might have happened, and I tried to call them back half a dozen times. But every time I dialed the number the line was busy. So, in the end I ended up contacting the local police. And when they finally reached my parents property an hour later, they found mom and dad crushed to death inside dad's pickup truck. A tall pine tree had fallen on top of the car, killing them instantly.
The police at the scene didn’t find any signs indicating that a home invasion or robbery had taken place. Everything seemed normal, apart from the fallen tree. The only unusual thing that was included in their final report was the black bag they had found in the back of the pickup truck, containing an old Santa Claus costume.
Needless to say, no one is going to dress up as Santa at our place this Christmas. Heaven knows what could happen if the old fella came knocking on our door.
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CS minor: To apply for SoC minosecond major programme, students must submit their application to the School of Computing by the 4th semester of study, for enrolment at the start of their 5th semester of study. https://www.comp.nus.edu.sg/programmes/ug/minorc/ba-mino
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2021.12.02 06:47 Fearless-Internet719 How to Talk with my husband?

Please, excuse me for my English, not my first language. I have no one to ask for advice, so here we go.
Me (28f) and my husband (30m) bought flat in little city outside of the town we lived. We were expecting our fist child and it was our only option at that time. We moved in, I gave birth and from that moment everything goes downhill.
He started to get dark thoughts, constantly talking about how he hate it here, how we never should move in, that this flat is a ruin and dangerous to us. For me, this is not ideal, but nothing dangerous and honestly I like living here. So I always wanted to show him that it’s not so bad. And that’s where we always started to fight.
Soon we were only fighting and I only concentrated on how to make him feel better so we wouldn’t fight, to feel nice for a sec and just be together. Came summer and everything looked better.
When winter came again, he started being depressional again. He told me that because of this flat he don’t love me anymore and I was ruined. But somehow we sicked together and made it through. And this is how it is. When it’s summer he feels better, but when it’s winter, everything is bad.
Now we are planning to buy land to build a house. And our fights moved from flat to our house.
He’s saying all the time: “You don’t care.” “It’s so easy for you!” “I know you don’t want to talk about this.” “It is our fault!” We are miserable people!” And bunch of insults on our account.
He always is sounding like I am against him with everything but I am not! The goal is the same for both of us, but it seems like everything I do or say is bad. I feel like he wants me to be in the same miserable state of mind as him. And I am. But in different way. Because all of the accuses I am truly believing that I am not worth living because we just messed up our kids lives. Deep down I know it’s not true, but I am just so messed up.
I think the issue is, that my priority is family, no matter where we live and his is living in a house. Which I don’t blame him, I just want to talk without fighting, but it seems like it’s impossible. I am really trying to talk to him reasonably, calmly and he just blows off.
I know it’s too much on him, but I just want him to act normal and discuss everything without emotions. But we don’t have time, when we can speak about it because he is in work during day, when he comes home he plays with boys and right after he pass out.
Is there how to break this cycle? I am seriously considering divorce even tho I have nowhere to go. I tried to talk to him in every way I imagined but every time I end up as being bad.
Please help…
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