My brother, sister, and I, set our shoes on the window sill so that at midnight, The Three Kings of Orient could fill them with toys. Then we gathered grass and water for the camels, and set a tray with cheese and wine for the kings. 

My parents were going out; we were to be asleep by midnight. Every Epiphany – same routine, I thought – something fishy is going on. But I brushed the notion aside, gathered my siblings, and we all went to bed. 

Something woke me up near Midnight. They’re here… I jumped to my feet. But…why climb the window when they can go through walls… I wasn’t thinking, I threw the light switch and boy, was I surprised!

“Mom? Dad?” 
“Forgot the keys…” Dad rushed in.
“Could’ve knock...” I stopped. What’s that? They were carrying things wrapped in brown paper. 

”The Kings were tired…” Mom explained. “We’re just helping out. They’ll come … don’t worry, and please, don’t tell the children,” she stammered. 

Children? Sure… what would I tell them? That it’s all been a lie? And I crawled back in bed feeling a half grown freak. 

Next morning, I stormed out of the house so angry, I couldn’t even cry – not a child, and didn’t want the lousy presents. I walked out as far away from the house as I possibly could.  And right there, between two trees, I stepped on something; something big…soft… A Miracle!

“Daaaad!!!” I dashed inside showing my stinking foot: “The camels were here!”

THE END