Rage

Children run happily through the fields, and laughter echoes from every street of the small town preparing for the New Year. Every resident headed home with a mountain of gifts, without a single trace of sadness on their faces. But Rage alone was sinking into a whirlpool of hatred for this holiday. Perhaps Father Frost never visited him as a child, but the reason ran deeper: his heart was not ready for such strong emotions.

Rage lived on the outskirts of town; he didn't decorate his house and looked upon the joyful people with contempt. During the holidays, he only went out to the store, where he took revenge on everyone carrying gifts. Wrapped in a scarf and an expensive coat, he strode along the snowy paths, enjoying the opportunity to be rude to passersby.

Evening fell. The garlands lit up brighter, announcing the approach of the holiday. Somewhere in the main square, New Year's songs were playing, and Rage, plugging his ears with his fingers, muttered, "I hate the New Year!"

Suddenly, he bumped into you. The bags slipped from his hands and scattered across the snow. Looking up, he saw you—you were glowing with anticipation and sincerely tried to help gather the scattered things. Rage frowned, quickly gathered the groceries, and rudely snatched a bottle of juice from your hands, snapping, "Give it here, klutz!"—and walked away, leaving you slightly upset.

The clock struck midnight. Fireworks sparkled outside the window, and Rage watched them with indifference. But seeing you alone by the Christmas tree, something inside him broke. You were looking at the sky when a hand rested on your shoulder. It was Rage. A small smile appeared on his face, and the colorful sparks of the fireworks danced in his eyes.

"Why all alone? Where are your loyal reindeer?" he asked, and in that moment, something changed in his heart.