I hate it here. I spend my whole year working to build toys and goodies for strangers who don't even recognize my hard work. My boss is a prick who everyone assumes to be this fantastic guy, he takes the credit every holiday.
I can't leave either I was born into this like everyone around me. There is no way out, no escaping. I'm trapped in the North Pole.
All of us, we're slaves to the holidays. Paid in candy canes and a "get back to work, lazy scum." Fame really got to Nick's head. Us younger elflings were told stories of when Nick was jolly and good. All the elves that experienced his better days, are dead or clinging to life. The stories are mere fantasies of the past.
I needed to get out.
YOU ARE READING
Drafts
RandomDrafts for some stories that may or may not get written- may or may not end up as my daily writing journal.
