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The clock struck midnight and ticked on. Tick, tock, tick- My eyes widened at the site before me. There were a couple hundred silver coins worth of jewelry in this box. Even in my own mind I was speechless. It was enough to fund my way to another town and still be rich. 'Brilliant. Expensive.' I though to myself. 'Mine.' I bagged the glowing goodies. I slowly stalked my way over to the door and exited the bedroom and closed the door. Moonlight was my guide down the hallway.  'Creeaaak.' I froze. 'Shit!'

There was movement, I heard it coming from the bedroom behind me, and muffled voices slightly aroused to the suspicion of an intruder. I shuffled myself to the study ahead. It was locked. 'Either they start a mad hunt for me, or the husband manages to calm that cow and assure her that the creak was just her bloated buttocks straining the bed's frame.' They were making enough noise for me to pick the lock on the door without detection. It wasn't all bad. A locked door was a promising sign of something valuable on the other side. Even in panic I could hardly wait.

The conversation did not pick up in pace or pitch, so I assumed that the husband was successful. I entered the study and locked the door. There was no light. It was windowless. I heard the man's footsteps, but they were quick, and coming my direction. The door knob shook and then was silent. The man went back to his wife and there was no more commotion. I sat in darkness for several minutes. Feeling safe, I pulled a candle out of my rucksack and lit it with a match. I immediately knew why this room was his first priority- there was a corpse hanging from the ceiling.

There was a body hanging three feet from the ceiling by straps wrapped around it's wrists. It's head was gone. There were thick sheets and towels under it to soak up all the blood coming from the ankles, and more bloody sheets next to the fireplace. The smell was faint, so this was recent. Behind the corpse was a section of wall with eight shelves, each shelf full end to end with skulls. They were all facing the corpse, and yet it felt like they were following my every move. Each skull had the same odd symbol carved neatly onto the forehead. To my left, against the wall with the door, sat a desk who's surface was occupied by 20 or so large jars of what I could only assume were blood. Below the desk were many more jars. There was nothing in this room but death and a nightmare. I snuffed the candle, exited the "study", and left the house through the way I came- the front door. I then realized my jewels weren't stolen from the woman. They were stolen from about a hundred women unlucky enough to dine with her.

“A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...” I’m sick of that movie, make it go away.

Am I wrong to despise it in such a strong way? I don’t care, it must not stay.

A longer time ago, in a galaxy farther away, I wish it were. It causes me such fray!

I’m not religious even though I pray that the next Star Wars will forever be delayed.

I am saddest at Christmas. Every card I get, every phone call and text, is a reminder of how many people couldn't care less about me. Any given time of the year, these people don't care what's going on in my life, or even know, yet I am supposed to receive their pretend interest with appreciation and joy? It's enough to make anybody depressed. I don't want another Christmas. I'm perfectly fine in my own world, away from the toxicity of false love and scheduled happiness.