Tag Archives: Christmas

Christmas Auntie

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Auntie looked away from the cozy interior. The couple within had made a show of merriness, although her heart told her differently. They desired the one thing that they had trouble creating more than any of the gifts piled under the tree. She trudged through the snow to a pristine bank, flakes whirling around her and glittering in the flickering lights on the Wilsons’ house. With a grin, Auntie began rolling balls of snow. She hummed as she worked, sculpting a form and smoothing edges.

Auntie held the object she made, cradled in one arm as she removed her shawl. She wrapped it in the embroidered red wool, snug as a babe, and kissed the bared bit of snow. Words whispered tumbled from her lips, the magic light on her tongue. Crying, the snow sculpture was born. Auntie peered into the rosy-cheeked face with joy, admiring her work.

“Shush now, love,” she said, cooing to the infant as she ambled to the Wilson’s front door. “They’ll give you their hearts, I promise and a better home you’ll never find.”

Auntie placed the bundle upon the doorstep and rang the bell. She faded into the shadows as the door opened. The warmth of answering a Christmas miracle flooded her.

“Where did she come from?” Jason asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” Mara’s gaze didn’t leave the cherub in her arms.

Auntie’s laughter mingled with the wind. She hefted her bag, slinging it over her shoulder and began her journey once more.

Gas Station Santa

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“Hello there,” Santa said to Cara as the elf lifted her onto his lap. Cara stared into Santa’s dark appraising eyes.

“Hi.” She looked around the store. Paper chains and flickering lights dangled from the ceiling, illuminating Santa in an eerie glow. A table along one wall was laden with toys. Her eyes lingered on a doll, her heart full of yearning.

“Do you know the meaning of Christmas?” Santa asked.

Cara turned to him her nose touching his. “It’s Jesus’ birthday.” Her gaze flickered to the doll.

“Are you an honest girl?” he asked. “Hell is filled with naughty liars.”

Cara nodded, transfixed by the shadowy fire of his eyes. Santa kissed her cheek.

“Smile!” The elf said.

Cara started at the camera flash and blinked her eyes to clear her vision. She felt herself pulled from Santa’s lap and set on her feet. The elf shoved a box into her hands.

“Had fun?” Cara’s mother asked, leading her out of the gas station. A bell rang overhead as they departed.

“Uh-huh,” Cara said. Santa’s words rang in her mind, making stomach lurch.

They climbed into the car, and Cara’s mother started the vehicle. Cold air blasted from the vents, slowly warming on the drive home. Cara studied the box in her lap. Inside was the doll she had admired, its empty blue eyes shining in the dashboard lights. Cara tucked it under the seat, away from her and out of sight.

 

*Author’s Note: This story is slightly autobiographical, but of course I exaggerated and condensed the experience. Also, when I met the Santa this tale is based on, it was in a butcher shop next to a convenience store. It wasn’t until I was an adult that it dawned on me how creepy that was.

The Gift

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Molly thundered down the stairs, her heart soaring with anticipation. Christmas morning had arrived. As she reached the bottom step, she jumped it and rushed into the living room. The glory of gifts awaited her, cascading out from the adorned tree. Molly squealed and dove into the treasure.

 
“You are supposed to wait for us,” her mother said with mock sternness, her eyes dancing.

 
“She’s our little monster.” Molly’s father entered the room with two mugs of steaming coffee. Mom laughed at the joke and took the cup Dad offered her.

 
“Let her open the big one first,” Molly’s mother said. Her father set his coffee aside and walked to the mountain of presents. Molly squirmed, barely able to contain her excitement. There was a rustle as her dad searched for the gift.

 
“I had forgotten how heavy this was.” Her father pushed aside the presents to unearth a long, large box wrapped in red and gold striped paper.

 
Molly didn’t wait for her father to move out of the way before attacking the present. She tore at the paper, revealing a black lacquered box. She grinned, opening the lid, and cried out, delighted.

 
Lying upon a bed of silk was girl near her own age, her face peaceful in death framed by dark doll-like ringlets. Molly had admired the girl several weeks ago when they went into the city to shop. She gazed up at her parents beaming with joy.

 
“She’s perfect,” Molly said. “I can’t wait to introduce her to the others.”

The Morning of Christmas

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*This is actually a little story my dad wrote several years ago and my mom recently found. It’s a parody and an homage to the Christmas classic “Twas the Night Before Christmas”. I’d like to share with you all now, instead of waiting.

Twas the morning of Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse (we have cats). The stockings were stuffed, hung by the chimney with care because St. Nicholas had already been here. I laid in my bed all snug in my cap when outside I hear My dogs start to yap. I sprang from my bed to look out the window, you see, and I couldn’t believe what was in my yard and stretched out before me.

Twas the jolly old Elf and eight reindeer. His sleigh was broken with a worn out gear (it was a stick shift). So there I stood In my shorts and socks, thinking how oddly it is when opportunity knocks.

The Christmas bills The old Elf had left was more than one person could comfortably heft. I was looking for vengeance, that bright winter morn. A plan had never had the time to get born.

I ran to my room to get my old shotgun (both barrels!). I ran through the house and through the back room, burst through the back door and yelled:

“Now get ready for the BOOM!”

The old Elf’s jaw hit the snow and he yelled to the deer:

“Let’s get the @!#$ out of here!”

The deer took off running, dragging the sleigh and old Chubby was getting drug the whole darn way (while holding up his pants). They took to the air, clocked at Mach 2. Santa yelled (and shook his fist):

“I’ll get even with you!”

I stood in the snow and let go a grin, knowing Santa had adrenaline pumping within. Yes, he was being dragged through the cold morning air, the snow in his whiskers and the wind in his hair. His butt crack was showing as he flew out of sight. I yelled:

“Merry Christmas to you and to you a good night!”

*And I now know where I get my odd sense of humor from. 😉

Holiday Memories

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Tis the season to be jolly.

This time of year is one of my favorites. Ideally, because it is the time for good will and treating our fellow humans with kindness and respect. Despite what the news shows us of Black Friday madness, I like to think people are generally good and have taken momentary leave of their senses. And I’m talking about all those who end up in brawls over the last “Super Hot Deal Now 70% Off!”. And there I went, off on another tangent.

Ahem…back to the subject at hand.

For me, December holds a magic that is solely its own. In my neck of the woods, it is pristine snow (until the plows and the snowmobilers have gone through) and twinkling lights. It is the aroma of cookies baking, and the taste of peppermint hot chocolate. It is music, it’s love, it’s being together with family and friends, the chaotic cacophony of catching up. Nights of board games, or televisions specials (I’m sucker for Shrek the Halls and How The Grinch Stole Christmas) or holiday movies.

I have a treasure trove of memories. Each one sparking along to the next until I am caught in this shining web of remembrances.

Making rock candy and peanut brittle with my grandma. Going along on magical nighttime rides to tour the neighborhood’s display of lights. Receiving gingerbread houses and fruitcake (I actually like homemade fruitcake). Giving homemade cookies (a tradition my baking genius sister continues). Making ornaments, clothespin soldiers and pipe cleaner snowflakes. And decorating, a lot of decorating.

We always, with the sad exception of last year when we used a fake (and sorry looking) tree, get a real tree. One year it even came with a bat. And we decorate it with our collection of ornaments, little tokens of the past, each with their own memory attached. There are ones received as gifts, ones made when I or my siblings were children, and ones gotten with holiday candy. They are beautiful, some bright and cartoony, others elegant and old fashioned. As a whole, it gives our tree a colorful and slightly chaotic appearance which I will call eclectic.

Our trial at having a fake tree.

Always in my heart and mind, the season is one filled with light, love, family and good will.