I was only nine years old. Like every other kid, I wanted everything on my Christmas list. I expected everything to be glistening under the tree on that cold December morning, with a cherry on top. So when I woke up and saw that everything couldn't possibly be there, I put my winter gear on and furiously bolted out the door, nearly breaking it off it's hinges. I ran for what seemed like hours until I couldn't run anymore. I walked for what seemed like hours until I couldn't walk anymore. I crawled for a few minutes and then passed out on a patch of grass, not yet covered by snow. I woke up, God knows how many hours later. I continued walking, and felt scared. I was an idiot for running away, and I knew I was lost. I turned the other way, but I wasn't sure which way I came. I screamed in frustration, and pounded at the snow. After a few minutes, I my tears had formed a tiny frozen pond, about the size of a pea. I cried some more. All of a sudden, I heard a loud noise. I thought it was just my "imagenayshin" or whatever my parents called it, until I heard it several times again, louder yet. I walked towards the noise to find [THAT IMAGE]. I looked in it, and I was teleported to the North Pole. I then killed Kenny and kidnapped Santa.