The Ten Night's of Mario

The city of Laketon always seemed to shine brighter in December. Streetlights were wrapped in gold ribbons, stores played cheerful music, and children dragged their parents through decorated walkways. But nothing glowed more than the mansion on Rosemont Hill, the home of the DeLuca family, the wealthiest family in the city. Inside that mansion lived Mario DeLuca, the boy everyone knew but few truly understood. Mario was twelve, with dark curls, bright eyes, and the kind of smile adults adored. People often said he lived a perfect life: grand birthday parties, designer clothes, private tutors, and a bedroom larger than some apartments. But Mario knew the truth better than anyone: money made noise, but it didn’t make love. His parents, Mr. and Mrs. DeLuca, were always busy. Too busy. They loved him, of course, but their love came wrapped in schedules, meetings, and tight conversations through half-opened doors. On the morning of December 15th, Mario sat at the long dining table, eating breakfast alone as usual. A servant placed pancakes in front of him. They smelled good, but he ate slowly. Your parents will be down soon,the servant said politely before leaving the room. Mario nodded even though he knew the truth: his parents would rush in, grab their coffee, and dive straight into the preparations for the biggest event of the year, The DeLuca Christmas Charity Gala. An event so large that the entire city practically revolved around it. Politicians, celebrities, business leaders, everyone came. And this year, Mario had to stand beside them as the smiling child of generosity,as the newspapers liked to say. He didn’t mind helping people. What he didn’t like was being treated like a symbol. He pushed his fork into the pancake again just as his mother swept into the dining room, heels clicking like a countdown. Mario, good morning,she said quickly, giving him a kiss on the forehead. Her eyes were already scanning the stack of event papers in her hands. Please remember to dress nicely for tonight. Reporters will be there before the event even starts. Yes, Mom, Mario answered quietly. Moments later, his father entered, adjusting his tie. He looked tired, but sharp. Big day today, son,Mr. DeLuca said, patting Mario on the shoulder. Make sure you rehearse your introduction. Welcome to the DeLuca Foundation Christmas Gala.Say it slowly. Confidence is everything. Yes, Dad. The house felt too big again. Later that afternoon, Mario stood by his bedroom window, watching cars drive up the hill. Workers moved in and out of the mansion like a small army. Snow began falling, soft and slow. It looked peaceful out there, something Mario rarely felt inside these walls. He turned away from the window and sat on his bed. A servant knocked lightly. You’re needed downstairs to get dressed, Master Mario. Mario sighed softly. I’ll come. He changed into a dark green suit with a gold-trimmed bow tie picked out by his mother two days earlier. He looked good in the mirror, but he didn’t feel like himself. He felt like a character everyone expected him to play. Downstairs, the mansion was transformed. Christmas trees on both sides of the staircase, golden ornaments hanging from every corner, and white lights sparkling everywhere. Staff rushed around, checking tables, lights, and decorations. Mario!his mother called, waving him over. Stand here beside your father. Remember to smile when the press arrives. Yes, Mom,Mario replied, placing himself exactly where she pointed. The hours moved slowly. Mario posed for photos, greeted guests, and shook hands with strangers who talked to him like they knew him personally. Oh, Mario, you’ve grown so much! You’re looking more like your father every day! You must be excited for the holidays! Mario smiled at every comment, though inside he wished he was upstairs, reading or playing games or doing anything that didn’t require smiling for so long. The gala hall filled up quickly. Music played, cameras flashed, and conversations blended into a loud, colorful crowd. Mario felt swallowed in the noise, the lights, and the pressure. After a while, he leaned close to his mother. Mom, can I get some fresh air? Just for a minute? She hesitated. Mario, the speech is soon “Only a minute. I’ll be back before you start. She finally nodded.Stay close to the house. Mario slipped away quietly through the side door leading to the garden. The cold air hit him instantly, refreshing and sharp. Snowflakes touched his cheeks as he walked down the stone path lit by tiny lights. It was quite peaceful. He breathed in deeply. Out here, away from flashing cameras and constant instructions, Mario finally felt like himself again. Just a boy enjoying a cold December night. He walked a little farther, hands tucked in his pockets, staring at the sky. The party noise behind him grew faint. But Mario wasn’t alone. Someone stood behind the tall hedge beside the garden bench watching. Mario didn’t see them. He was too busy admiring how the snowflakes sparkled under the lights. A twig snapped softly. He glanced around. Hello? No answer. He shrugged and took one more step forward. Then another. Another twig snapped a little louder this time. Mario turned fully. Is someone there? Maybe it was a bird, he told himself. Or maybe one of the workers stepped outside. But as he turned back toward the house, he felt a strange feeling that someone’s eyes were on him. Someone close. He walked faster now, heading toward the side door. But the door looked far away. Too far. He picked up his pace. Another sound behind him. Mario didn’t turn around this time. He just hurried forward, heart beating a little faster. The air felt colder suddenly. When he reached the door, he grabbed the handle and pulled. Locked. He frowned. What? It wasn’t locked before. Someone must have closed it from inside. Mario took a step back. Maybe he could go around to the main entrance. But before he could move, a low voice whispered behind him Mario. He spun around, startled. Who’s there?! No one was visible. Just the quiet garden, snow falling softly, and shadows from the trees stretching across the ground. He swallowed, nervous now. His breath came out in a little cloud. Mom…? he tried calling. Dad…? Silence. Then footsteps. Slow. Crunching in the snow. Coming closer. Mario’s heart thudded painfully. He took one step back toward the door then another. The footsteps stopped. Mario’s voice trembled. Please… who’s there? A figure shifted in the darkness behind the hedge. Mario froze. The figure didn’t speak again. Then the snow-filled silence swallowed everything.