CRASH
BASH
CLASH
BANG
The once roaring fire lay dead under the ashes. Coldness surrounded the room. Black burnt spots covered the floor near the once boiling fire.
The stockings hung with love and care now lay ripped on the old crusty floor. Dull coloured socks stuffed with ash instead of gifts.
The pictures of family were burned to a crisp, the frames cracked and crumbled. The happy smiles certainly did not reflect the mood of the scene.
But the Christmas tree, oh the Christmas tree. Baubles were scattered on the floor, each one more broken and shattered than the last. Tinsel was burned in places, ripped the others, scattering the room with sparkle. The tree was a different story. It had collapsed, twisting and turning, getting tangled amongst the fun. Parts had been ripped off, dragged away form the others. The tree lay so tangled and deformed that it could hardly be classified as a tree, instead, a bundle of green.
In the midst of it all, a young, foolish little girl, with blonde locks that hung by her shoulders, an innocent pinafore, and bright red shoes, Elisa spoke with her most angelic voice.
"I didn't do it,"
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