1. Eyes of the Elf

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The elf on the shelf is always watching.

It comes every December and watches me and my parents. Mom and Dad both know that it's always observing. They read me the story from the book that it came with, about how it's a spy for Santa. How I can't touch it or else it'll lose its magic and won't be able to tell Santa if I've been a good or bad girl this year.

They also told me that it moves from place to place every night. And I expected it to. I waited for it to leave my room the first night.

But, it never did.

Since last year, it's just been setting up shop in here, sitting on the edge of my bookshelf with that insipid fake smile on its face. I don't know why. Mom and Dad think that it likes me. But, I don't think so. I think that it's judging me.

It stares down at me and breathes. I can't sleep at night because its eyes shine and I can see them if I squint hard enough. Those eyes. I hate them.

I feel them on me as I change clothes.

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