A few days before Christmas, Oxford street is swarming with last minute shoppers, laden with parcels and bags. Christmas is the highlight for many people, especially little childen, from as tall as your ankle to as tall as your knee. Small todlers were moaning and disappearing into the clothes racks like magicians disappearing in a puff of smoke entertaining the gullible audiences.
Families and friends gradually emerge from clogged buses and congested trains, tired, exhausted and hungry even at this very early stage, as if they had spent the whole night awake, like a distressed parent waiting for their child to arrive home from a party but has still not arrived, two hours past their curfew.
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The street is coated with a thick layer of snow, knee length, which was as soft, and as smooth as a fresh scoop of vanilla ice-cream. The snow was as white as the marzipan on a wedding cake, smooth as glass, flat as a pancake and beautiful as the wings of a butterfly opening for its first time.
Along the street, above the distressed shoppers, was a sea of decorations, of all colours, simultaneously changing, on and off, to the rhythm of my feet, whilst ambling through the streets of Oxford. The Christmas lights were shaped in all kinds of shape you could possibly imagine and they were so bright that the twinkle in the lights glistened on the icing floor as though it was a star. It also shimmered on the shoes, which men were wearing.
The combination of the snow and the Christmas lights makes me feel as though I was entering another world full of amusement, ecstasy and anticipation as Christmas draws in.
The atmosphere is pleasant, though everybody seems to be distressed and having problems on their minds, as though they were carrying the weight of the whole, entire world on the shoulders. The shops are warm and snug after coming in from the cold outside. The feeling of a holiday coming up puts individuals in a ebullient, friendly,
The two men lay in the snow, listening to the branches creak in the forest. Silence. A crow cawed in the distance, interrupting the calm only for a second. As the two men’s fate approached, they began to perceive things that they had never experienced before. All the crackling, shuffling, and whistling became crystal clear to them, and they wondered how they had never heard these sounds before. Little shimmers and sparkles caught their eyes as if to tell them to enjoy their last moments in this world. Frost glittered in the slivery moonlight, cascading upon them through an opening in the dense canopy
It was a cold winter's evening and the night was as dark as coal. The town was very bizarre tonight. Infact more than usual. The town was tiny but it was very easy for people to assimilate in it. It was three days before Christmas and people were thrilled about that final day to come. Everybody ran around like maniacs trying to do last minute shopping.
It’s December 2014 and it’s Christmas time in Newcastle. As usual the grey sky lays like a cozy blanket over the city. Somewhere around the Christmas madness a boy is walking around. Among the smell of cinnamon and food from the Christmas market, the sounds from people, cars and buses. Little noises are heard from pigeons fighting over a piece of dirty bread. As the boy navigates trough the crowds of people he is completely unaware of something life changing that is about to happen. This wonderful boy has sandy blonde curly hair that is partially covered by a grey woolly hat, he’s wearing a black cozy warm jacket with grey sweatpants and worn out vans. Wrapped under his shirt the wires from his headphones are just hanging loose on his chest
Gravel crunched beneath the tires of my father’s ’95 Chevy Silverado, the same way it had every time we drove up the steep, tortuous path to my grandmother’s home on Christmas Eve. There she was waving excitedly, dressed in her floral nightgown and fuzzy slippers as the snow floated downward around her. She corralled us inside away from the cold. Like I was as light as the snowflakes just beyond the door, she lifted me up into her arms. I laid my head against her chest as she guided my father and me into the living room adorned with wreaths and candles. I closed my eyes and inhaled the aroma of peppermint and freshly baked cookies as my grandmother held me tight. Lights from the glistening tree illuminated the room in red and green.
With the wreaths and Yule logs that come standard with this holiday comes a caring from deep in the hearts of people unbeknownst to them at any other time of the year. At the sight of the Christmas decor and the flames roaring at the hearth, a warmth envelops the heart, one with which no flame, however hot, could compete. We see in our gift-wrap and our greeting cards and our holiday stockings an entirely new persona occupying this world we live in, reprieving us from the daily heartaches we all know as familiar.
Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens Scrooge has become one of the most commonly know characters from Charles Dickens’s novels, in the respect that he is the most horrible and callus of all his characters, this dastardly individual was used to convey a serious social message about the extreme neglect of Victorian employees. The first chapter of ‘A Christmas Carol’ prepares the reader for the rest of the novel. Dickens does this by creating antipathy for scrooge and by introducing gothic elements to prepare the reader for the arrival of the spirits later on in the book. In the 18th century Charles Dickens was one of the most important
There is no choice but to laugh in the face of such dismal prospects, to take joy in the little things in everyday life. Every movement in this piece expresses constrained energy, just waiting to burst forth and flood the land with its light. But the snow globe setting also sets the piece apart. Unfortunately it is just a window in to a fantasy, set apart from our own beings. But the message of inclusiveness and joy in the face of darkness shines
It is curious that as children, humans have the ability to observe and remember details of specific situations and instances yet lack the ability to describe them. Truman Capote, as a grown man, took advantage of his vivid memories and composed the short work, "A Christmas Memory." The story begins in late November, a month symbolic of all the years gone by that Capote could remember beginning preparations for Christmas fruitcakes.
Many of Dickens’s books are still studied in schools today, one of those being A Christmas Carol, in which he talks about England being smothered in snow. As a result of the phrase “A White Christmas,” Dickens has popularized the idea of a perfect, snowy Christmas throughout
Christmas is my favorite holiday of the year. I love seeing the shinny Christmas lights that decorates my street and the sound of fresh fallen snow on the ground. Christmas reminds me of family, the laughter and loved we shared, and the gifts we gave to each other. My house on Christmas became the center of my joy.
It was a very cold November day. I was walking down the streets of my home tome, Babylon New york. As I walk down the street littered with fancy BMWs and Mercedes, I cant help but feel out of place stepping out of my 1997 Jeep that has two working windows and a busted tail light. This is my home town but sometimes it can make you feel like you don’t belong. As I continued my walk down the street I could see that the leaves on the perfectly groomed trees were beginning to turn all different shades of orange and brown. All the shop windows were decorated for thanksgiving, but some still had a left over jack-o-lantern or two taking
I think Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays. Maybe because of the special atmosphere that you can feel everywhere, in shops, restaurants , pubs and even streets, where you can hear the magical carols, or maybe it's because of its religious background, but what I can tell you for sure is that I can't think of anything more exciting than the image of the entire family preparing the Christmas Tree or fixing the Christmas dishes.
I feel merciless gusts of cold wind from the swinging church doors as I grab my dress coat and search for my sisters. There is an energy of excited hurriedness as churchgoers pile up and wedge through the main exit to carry out other Christmas Eve plans. It is the most important night of the year for my family and I have grown to love our traditions profoundly. I spot my family through the crowd and we slip out of the side door and begin to tread up the ice-covered hill toward our grandparent's house. In the midst of our slippery trek, I manage to capture a few moments of peace, pulling my eyes away from my snow coated heels and letting them settle on a perfect yuletide scene. Delicate snowflakes float about the crisp evening air illuminated by strings of multicolored Christmas lights that outline my grandparent’s cozy home. I become numb to the discomfort of the wintry atmosphere and melt in the presence of this divine moment. A cheerful glow starts to tingle throughout my body with anticipation for tonight. We approach the front step and begin to smell the mouth-watering fixings of Christmas dinner that we would devour later that evening and hear the joyous conversation of relatives already inside.
The turkey and trimmings are now in the refrigerator awaiting their second coming. The chocolates and the brandy no longer in sight, waiting to reappear at our waist line. Our parents, in-laws, all the adult children and their children have returned home leaving us with many so fond memories but with an empty house. Where only a short time ago my house was truly a home, it now shelters only me. The now empty space shows still the remnants of love and companionship. The decorated tree is still standing, but is now barren of the decorated gifts beneath its green wings. The long table recently laden with nourishment, surrounded by conversation, laughter and reminisces of the year has bid final farewell sits empty now. My shoes are no longer crowded at the front door, I would wish it was still. Reality has returned, the joy of Christmas now appears as an artificial effect.
The dormitory room was dark and stuffy, the sounds of heavy sleepers snoring echoing about the room. It seemed peaceful enough. In fact, some students had their things packed early and their suitcases laid next to their beds, some neat and flat while others have lumps and clothing sticking out the zipper. Most students would be ecstatic for the coming of Christmas and family, gifts and candy, Sadly Blythe wasn’t one of these happy students, she dreaded the coming holiday. It would be the first holiday without her father. She had suffered several without her mother but she was utterly alone this time. She found her heart aching. Not only couldn’t she see her family but most of her House family were leaving as well, off to go enjoy their mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles. Blythe couldn’t believe the holiday could be so empty. If someone had told her little mind that this was possible she would have laughed and spat at them. But it was true. It was dreadfully lonesome.