Letter For Santa
Last Edit: Apr 30th, 2015
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My sister and I grew up as orphaned children of our parents, who the aunt and uncle, who raised us, told an unbelievable story of how our parents ceased to be our parents. I did not believe what they said, remembering how much my mother treasured me, and father was a real dad to his son. It took my sister leaving for college before the truth of what happened became a reality to me.
My sister Sharon kept a diary, and about every three years, she filled a book and retired it to her dresser drawer where she kept her underwear, thinking her dear brother would never dare look in that drawer, as girls have coodies.
When she left for college and while I was in my sophomore year of high school, she bought a new diary and retired her last to that amiable safe keeping dresser drawer. After she drove off to college, I became nosey and opened that time capsule of a drawer. In it, I discovered written notes and a copy of a letter she wrote to Santa when she was just eight-years-old.
Her letter read as, “Dear Santa, I was very good this past year. I did as do my chores around our house, helping my mother with Johnny my younger brother. I brush my teeth twice each day, study hard at school, and I get good grades.
As for what I want for Christmas, which is difficult to put into words. I do not want anything for me, but wish you to grant a gift to my father, as what he likes to read about I think he wants it, and I would think it very nice if he would get his wish!
What I know about father and his wish began by chance when I was awake late one night. I was in my bed thinking about school, and as I lay there, I heard a strange noise. I got out of bed, me being a girl, my grandpa says, means I am quite inquisitive about most things.
Wondering, I snuck out of my bedroom and into the dark hallway to see then a rim of light coming from the closed door to the home office room, where father does his lat night work, as doing it on the computer. I knew he would be angry if I were to disturb him, he works so hard to give us all of what we have a need. I know he goes to do his work after we are all in bed; he stays awake for hours doing what he does on his computer.
As it happened on that night and after hearing some odd noise as if someone was moaning, my knowing that father was awake as working made me feel safe, so I went back to bed, sleeping to morning when I awoke before anyone else. When I got up out of bed and saw then the lights still turned on in the office room, I wondered if father was there, or had by mistake left the lights on when he went to bed.
Concerned, I opened the door to the office room, and there at the desk sat father in his chair, he had worked so long he had fallen asleep doing his working.
I thought as wanted to give him a good-morning kiss, but when I leaned over and placed my hand on his desk to steady my stance, I happened to move the computer mouse. The computer monitor was dark as on standby, but when I touched the mouse, the screen became as if alive.
As I stood there beside my sleeping father, I saw something unspeakable! As there then on the computer screen appeared what the boys at school talk about, they say it is a photo-morph. The picture was of a beautiful blonde haired woman, her torso, neck, and head, but from her waistline and back as down she was like to a Palomino horse.
What I saw there made no sense to me then, as why father would be awake late and have such a picture on his computer screen. I did not kiss him, but felt embarrassed, as quietly left the room, careful not to awaken father. I returned to my bedroom and crawled back into bed, all the while wondering as of what I saw!
Later, that same morning, a Saturday, while everybody was awake and moving about, all getting ready for our family favorite fun of tobogganing, I returned to the home office room. I walked into the room and was surprised to see the computer still operating, so I thought to move the mouse.
Father left the room in a hurry when mother awoke, he had not shut down his computer, and as I checked to see that picture again, the picture of the horsewoman was gone. I saw there a story. Inquisitive me, I sat down in the big office chair and began reading the story. As I read it, I felt sad for my father, as what he read of such a story was about…,
oh well, you could read it at, http://wolphin.furvect.com/stories.html
The story as titled is “Vengeance,” and as I sat there by touching the backup, I saw what father might want for his Christmas gift, as what I would ask for him from you! I love my father, but if it would make him happy to be as other then he is, as my gift, help father become happier.
With all my love,
P.S. To save you the extra time to check the web sites, I printed off a copy of the picture he had as in his screen-saver, please see the attached on page two.
"Black Percheron stallion"
In the diary, I found a second letter my dear sister wrote to Santa. The letter as written a month after that fate filled Christmas, and when we found our situation as becoming orphans, added more to my understanding.
I apologize for writing you after your busy holiday times, but my wished gift for father became a big problem for my brother Johnny and me.
The manner of giving father his wish worked true as he became a beautiful horse, a mistake made my brother and I as now orphans. You gave father what he likes about Christmas a bottle of cheer, his brand of whisky. He found it on the fireplace mantle and opened the bottle, as made for him and his dear wife a mixed drink of holiday delight. Mom and dad sat drinking their drinks, they watching Johnny and me opening our gifts from under the tree.
Mom tends to get rather jolly after drinking half a glass of whatever father prepares and gives her. Mom noticed father as to his ears looked as if pointed; she made a joke of it until father said something about his wife having broad nostrils. They got up from where they were sitting on the living room couch and left us, their children to having fun opening our gifts.
I imagine they went to their bedroom, as compared to each the other that your gift was to do to father… only, began to do to them both.
After an hour of opening our gifts, Johnny left me sitting as playing with my gifts, and he went to find mother, as wanting to thank her for the fire truck he got.
Moments later I heard Johnny scream and he continued to scream as if frightened.
I ran to the hallway and to the big bedroom to see what was wrong, and entering the bedroom, there stood Johnny in a corner, he screaming and bug-eyed, panicking. I turned to see my mommy, she wearing her nightgown. Her head and face were like that of the horse in the picture I sent to you as what daddy seemed to like. She was black faced, covered from head to just above her hoofs with fur. As she saw me, she felt embarrassed, she turned away and I saw she had a horsetail and the hind legs of a horse.
Mommy stood with a slightly crouched stance, she tried to say something, but made a shrill whinny what seemed to scare Johnny even more!
Mommy began to walk toward and into the bathroom, she closing the door, I heard noises and what sounded like a fight happening. Moments later mommy came out the bathroom she then without her clothing, was then as a horse and mare, she trotted out the room, along the hallway and to the kitchen. She left us children there in her bedroom, when from the bathroom walked a big black horse, I knew it was father as he wished he was, he a beautiful black stallion of a horse!
Father did not even look at Johnny. He prancing walked past me, and went after mother. They kicked and chased around in the kitchen, as mommy dashed out as through the back door to stand in the fenced backyard, she looking at the house.
Daddy took after mommy and they ran in a game of chase all around in the backyard. Finally, daddy cornered mommy, she acting as if scared of daddy. They then stood standing nearer the garage, as he jumped on her back and began trying… I think to tickle her.
I watched the fun my then horse parents enjoyed together, standing calmly quiet, daddy as upright and mommy as on all fours. Meanwhile, as inside the house was Johnny, he still screaming, maybe from what all he saw.
The noises brought the police, and the officers took our horse parents to live at the animal shelter. When asked by the policeman, I phoned our Uncle Frank to come, he with Aunt May, arrived and took Johnny and me to live with them. Uncle listened to my story, me telling in detail of the gift, and then the drinking, as what it did to mom and dad. Thankfully, he went then to the animal shelter and brought to his estate our horse parents.
In just a month, so much has changed, as brother and I learned to like living with auntie and uncle, as I do new chores helping to feed, groom, and take care of our horse parents. Daddy acts very aggressive uncle says, he used the word rambunctious when talking about daddy. My dear Uncle knows his two newest horses, were his younger brother and his wife.
Uncle Frank decided to earn some reimbursement money from how daddy acts rambunctious, he leased daddy to another farm, where he was to be of service to the mares there, maybe showing them the same tickle fun he did several times to mommy.
I was surprised to overhear the Veterinarian say my mommy horse is pregnant with a foal.
My real reason to write so early in the new-year is to thank you dear Santa as for the giving me what I asked for, but I wish to ask now, if by some means you might know how to make mommy become her human self after she gives birth to our foal bother or sister. I do not think she likes being a horse as much as does, daddy. I suggest leaving daddy to his working for Uncle Frank, as daddy seems to enjoy his fun romps with various mares.
Now I know there is a Santa, there must be as how else could my parents be as Percheron horses, owned by Uncle Frank, worked and the stallion leased to other farms as a stud. The mare knows me, she reacts as might a mother to her child whenever I come near or grooming her, and she keeps her tail down and appreciates me treating her with a sense of moral modesty.
If the stallion is my father, he has forgotten me as being his son, he breeds weekly, has sired hundreds of foals during the past ten years.
I wonder if I were to write to Santa and ask to become like my father, would I carry on his heritage, what would it be like being a horse, a stallion, and constantly at stud?