Dear Santa
20 Feb 2020Today’s prompt: “You are a fifty-three-year-old woman living in Chicago. Write a letter to Santa.” (Eh, you can decide what you want to feel like about your own gender and age.)
Dear Santa,
Look, I’m still not convinced you exist, but I don’t know who or what to believe in anymore. I was quite sure God existed, but he hasn’t answered any of my prayers. And Cthulhu, who I knew was fictional, turns out to be quite real and devouring whole neighborhoods. He’s eaten half the South Side of Chicago and is gobbling up the West Side as I write this. Anyway, if you’re out there, all I want for Christmas is to not get eaten by Cthulhu.
I know it’s February, but could you possibly give me my present early this year? I promise to leave milk and cookies.
Love,
[Insert-your-name-here]