

IT is the 28th of December…
As promised here is the Winning Author…
Thank you to all the authors who participated…I enjoyed every fairytale…
But it is a contest which means there is a Winner…
To find out whose re-imagined fairytale won the grand prized of a printed copy of the anthology,
Tales for Canterbury…click on the golden laurel image below…
It will take you to the lucky Author’s blog…
Christmas has come and gone but…it is not the end of presents…
Here is the lucky winning reader for my HolidayHop Challenge…
These were her 3 wishes…
If you were Santa for a day, and instead of gifts you could grant 3 wishes…
what would be the 3 wishes you grant and why?
1) That everyone has a complaint/issue/prejudiced against a group gets to walk a mile in that persons shoe for a month. For example, the wealthy who think that a poor person is just lazy and needs to get a job, someone who is racist or homophobic gets to change color or orientation, etc.2) Perform a social experiment. Does absolute power corrupt absolutely? The entire world will now be controlled by women. Let’s see if we can do a better job.3) As a child, my only escape from abuse was when I escaped into the fantasy of reading. I grew up very poor and can remember always wanting a book of my own. I learned that being able to read and getting an education was my only way out of the situation. So, my final wish would be to give the entire world the gift of being able to read.Your ebook copy of Tales for Canterbury will be winging its way to you ASAP |
I pray you’ll be our eyes, and watch us where we go.
And help us to be wise in times when we don’t know.
Let this be our prayer, when we lose our way.
Lead us to a place, guide us with your grace
To a place where we’ll be safe.La luce che tu dai
Nel cuore restera
A ricordarci che
L’eterna stella sei.I pray we’ll find your light,
And hold it in our hearts
When stars go out each night,
Remind us where you are..Nella mia preghiera
Quanta fede c’e.
Lead us to a place ?Let this be our prayer
When shadows fill our day
Guide us with your graceGive us faith so we’ll be safe.
Sogniamo un mondo senza piu violenza,
Un mondo di giustizia e di speranza.
Ognuno dia una mano al suo vicino,
Simbolo di pace…di fraternita.La forza che ci dai
E desiderio te
Ognuno trovi amor
Intorno e dentro se.
Let this be our prayer,
Just like every child.We ask that life be kind
And watch us from above.
We hope each soul will find
Another soul to love.
Let this be our prayer,
Just like every child.Needs to find a place, guide us with your grace
Give us faith so we’ll be safe
E la fede che hai acceso in noi
Sento che ci salverai…
Wishing a peaceful and joyful Christmas to each and every one of my readers and followers.
May the lyrics of this song be the blessings in your life this special time.
Merry Christmas!
~ Kim ~
I wish each of my readers and followers a blessed Christmas 2011…
May you be embraced in peace, joy and love.
May the Prince of Peace by your peace this season.
May God bless you all.
~ Kim ~
Today I welcome Penelope Crowe to the blog with her fairytale for Christmas…
Henry and Greta were tired of being gophers. Graduating first and second respectively in their class at Pratt three years ago meant nothing in the real world. They had no relatives in the art community, and all their friends had careers of their own to worry about.
So they got other people coffee, bought paint, climbed the ladders when the museum light bulbs went out, and barely make a living. Their apartment was an 800 square foot pre-war charmer, complete with roaches and windows that would not open.
Greta dreamt of a life in the country, with a little house of their own somewhere in the woods far, far away from the dirty city.
Henry’s drawings and paintings rivaled Cezanne. Greta wrote words Hemingway would envy. They worked on books at night and submitted them to publishers.
On Thursday Henry sketched some pictures to show the art director of the museum. They showed the stark white walls of the museum transformed by paintings that looked like stained glass. Their placement brought to mind the opulent Baroque style of churches from centuries before.
The sketches and ideas were stunning, and the art director dismissed him with a wave of his hand.
The next morning the curator announced their next display—an architectural transformation of the museum showing paintings that looked like stained glass. Congratulations were giving to the art director, the genius who thought of this wonderful idea.
Henry and Greta left the museum at 9:23AM, never to return.
They went home and gathered their books and illustrations in a portfolio and started walking uptown.
They left copies of their books with publishers on Varick Street, 24th, 53rd, Avenue of the Americas, and everywhere in between. Their trail of literature led them to the front doors of the Waldorf Astoria. Henry and Greta had to step aside as the doors swung open, and eight dogs of various shapes and sizes stepped through, followed by a very well-dressed old man.
The dogs surrounded Henry and Greta and proceeded to bark. They were silenced when the old man quietly spoke the two words “thank you.” They sat down and looked at the man as if waiting for a treat.
“My dogs have never been wrong,” smiled the old man. “and they tell me you have something to show me. Please come in and have tea.”
Hungry and thirsty after their journey through the city, they agreed.
Sitting in Peacock Alley enjoying scones and tea, the old man, Mr. Kris, pointed past the opulent gift shop and told them his book shop was around the bend. He had a first edition Animal Farm by George Orwell, and Dracula by Bram Stoker. He had a handwritten journal with illustrations touted to be the works of DaVinci. He said it was priceless.
“Please show me your work,” he said, “I am anticipating a glorious release. Everyone has been waiting, and I want to be the one to show your art to the world. My dogs are never wrong.”
Greta and Henry, though confused, showed Mr. Kris their books. With a glimmer in his eye he requested copies, and informed them they would be ready for sale in one week. Thank yous were exchanged, and Greta and Henry left shaking their heads.
They returned in one week and asked to speak to Mr. Kris, but no one knew who he was. No one had heard of him.
As if by magic their books were in every bookstore they passed on the way home.
Greta and Henry started to look for a place to live in the country.
Find Penelope on her blog: http://www.penelopecrowe.blogspot.com/
Thank you for that tale Penelope. Every writer needs a Mr. Kris. Hope you find your’s this Christmas. Happy Holiday Hop and Merry Christmas! 🙂
Remember, Readers there is a contest going on this blog for the HolidayHop. Read all the rules and take up the challenge here. There are fantastic prizes, just here on this blog you can win an ebook copy of an amazing collection of short stories plus you go into the grand HolidayHop prize draw for the Kindle Touch.Don’t forget to hop to the other bloggers this holiday season and let the festive spirit infect you! It’s your last chance to win some prizes…enter now!
It’s the 24th…the last night of Creepfest…the night before Christmas…
and in creeps a green elf…
She bears the names of 2 winners …
tales of Creepmas to spin was their task…
Their houses visited by the Ghost of Creepmas Past…
what horrors did he foretell, what terrors did he awaken…
The Ghost of Creepmas Past took you to the dark place of your Nightmares…
…this was his trip back in time courtesy of the Ghost of Creepmas Past…
He took me back to a time when my ears stuck out and my mom covered them with my shaggy hair. My brother and I had only one present that year, a long electronic train set. We shouted at the top of our joy when we entered the living room–me in my dino pjs and he in his ninja turtles. I pushed him aside; he hit his head on the corner of the couch and cried. I took a seat at the controls near the train station, flicked the switch, pressed the red button. Nothing happened.
My mom looked at me, hiding most of her face behind the hall. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t work.”
Tears burned as if they were lava trails burning my sorrow into permanent scars down my cheeks. The salty taste creeping over my lips drove nails through my heart. This was the worst Christmas ever.
The blood dripping down my brother’s nose and the shade of purple coloring his squinted face were too much to bear. I went to hug him but fell right through his form.
I looked up at the Ghost of Christmas. “Take me away. I’m going to be sick”
I could never sleep on Christmas Eve. I’d lie in bed, listening to my baby sister snoring, straining to hear what was going on down the hall.
Every noise would make me sit up. Was that a sleigh bell? Were those hooves tapping on the roof? The wearier I got, the more frequent the noises became.
A creek from the closet. Did Santa come out of the wrong side of the chimney and fall into my closet? Would he find my Barbies and decide I didn’t need any more toys? Would he find where I hid Sissy’s squeaky baby doll? I *hated* that thing and hid it so she wouldn’t annoy me with it. Baby toys were stupid but if Santa found it, he wouldn’t understand. He’d just bump me onto the naughty list.
The night wore on. I heard breathing outside my window. Was that a reindeer? Why did it growl? Did they eat children? Did they only eat the naughty ones?
Dawn came. I jumped out of the bed and ran to my mom’s room. “Merry Christmas!” I shrieked, relieved the ordeal was over.
“Back to bed,” mom mumbled. “Today’s not Christmas. It’s Christmas Eve.”
Congratulations to both Tim and Ash…I loved both flash pieces…
Happy Creepfest & Merry Christmas! 🙂
Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap….
Hold that thought…
Nope….wrong 12 days…
You have just arrived on the 12th day of CREEPFEST…
Yes! Readers I am afraid we have reached the last day of Creepfest…
(Moans and groans ensue…)
Wait this means you have 1 day to creep to all the wicked minds on this hop…
Click on the Christmas tree above and it will take you to a world of Creepfest…
Don’t go too far…because coming up I will be announcing the 2 winners of my reader challenge…Watch this space
“Twas the last night of Creepfest
when all through the Bloggosphere
creatures were stirring, children knew to fear
the voodoo dolls were pinned with scare
In dread that soon Patti Larsen would creep in there…
Run…she’s coming…scaring children is what she does best…”
Patti: “I love fairy tale villains. I really do. In fact, part of me wishes they could win, now and then…
My favorite of all? The Big Bad Wolf. The poor guy, I mean really. He’s the Wile E Coyote of the story realm, isn’t he? First it was those stupid pigs. Come on, people–pigs are FOOD. He was just doing what comes naturally. And he was hungry. Hell, I had pork for dinner last night. Does that qualify me in the BBW category?
Then there was that stupid little girl in the red hood. Talk about an idiot. Everyone knows going out in the woods alone with a basket full of food makes you a target. Sheesh. Grow up, kid. And the Wolf, well, he knew the Huntsman was on his trail, right? It’s not his fault Granny died of a heart attack when he tried to hide in her house. That little brat of hers told her own story, though, didn’t she? Made BBW look, well, big and bad.
And what about the boy who cried wolf? Trying to get BBW into trouble like that? Kids have no sense these days, nasty little bullies. He had to know it would just add to BBW’s already degraded reputation.
Yup, poor Biggie. He’s had it rough. But I aim to change all that. My upcoming novel, Red, tells the story as it really happened, as he partners up with Riding Hood to destroy the Huntsman, the real culprit of the story. Maybe then folks will start showing BBW a little respect.”
About the Author: Patti Larsen is a middle grade, young adult and adult author with a passion for the paranormal. Her YA thriller series, The Hunted, is available now. Books one and two of The Hayle Coven series, Family Magic and Witch hunt are also out now, with the sequels, Demon Child and The Wild, due in December of this year. She is a full time writer and a part time teacher of her Get Your Book Done program. Patti lives on the East Coast of Canada with her very patient husband and four massive cats.
You can find her:
On her website: http://pattilarsen.com
On Facebook: http://facebook.com/pattilarsenauthor
Her writing blog: http://pattilarsen.blogspot.com
Her book blog: http://pattilarsenbooks.blogspot.com
On Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/PattiLarsen
On Amazon.com and Goodreads
Thanks Patti…Red sounds Amazing…I know we all look forward to its release. Don’t keep us waiting too long. Thank you for that first little glimpse on this last night of Creepfest…It has been a pleasure hopping with you this Creepfest! Wishing you a happy last night of Creepfest and a Merry Scary Christmas… 🙂
Only 2 days left until the end of the #HolidayHop which means only 2 days left to enter the contest, win a prize here and be in for a chance to win the grand prize of a KINDLE FIRE….What are you waiting for? Rules for entering on the bottom of this post.
Today I welcome Robyn Porter onto the blog with her version of “The Three Little Pigs”…Enjoy!
Alexandra turned her thoughts to Krystoff and Edward. They’d pushed her to come out for the night. It was the night before Christmas and she had wanted to remain indoors. Edward and Krystoff had lived a longer life than she had and said they knew that the fables of Santa Claus were fake. It didn’t matter. All of her life she had loved the idea and magic of the holiday and this year was no different. Only change this year was the addition of both men in her life. Vampires, they always thought they knew everything.
“Come on Alex, I don’t want to be late!” Krystoff yelled from her door.
Moving around the room, Alex grabbed her coat and took one last scan of the area. Her tree was up, the white lights twinkling in the dim room. Beneath the tree she had put down her small snow scene, filled with a glass pond and miniature ice skaters. She’d gotten it from her mother’s things after she’d died. It was one of the few items she still had from her old life.
A pound at the door brought her back to the present. Opening the wooden door she found Krystoff and Edward standing outside.
“Are you ready?” Krystoff asked. “I want to get to the theater before the line forms.”
“Yes, give me one minute to secure my fireplace.”
“Oh come on, nothing is going to happen.”
Alex laughed. “I love Christmas, and though I do not believe in Santa Claus, I also do not want to leave my fireplace open.”
Moving towards the grating, Alex secured the entry point with a small lock and a chant of protection. Though she knew both men considered her silly, she didn’t care. It was part of her routine and one she refused to give in to. Turning back she found both men smiling at her. She knew they had shared some kind of joke at her expense, but she just brushed it off.
“Okay, we can go.” Alex replied.
Leaving the house, they headed out toward the town. Each of their homes began to fade into the snow that was falling around them when they heard a sound echo from above. Glancing around, Alex caught site of a flicker of light high above them.
“What was that?” Edward asked.
“I have no idea.” Krystoff answered. “Whatever it was it was above us and heading back toward our houses.”
Alex got the sudden urge to go home. Looking at both men, she knew they had the same feeling. Taking off, they headed back to Edward’s house first as it was the closet. Opening the door, Edward found his home was demolished. The roof had caved in and there was straw strewed all over the room. She tried to keep her smile at bay. She remembered telling Edward when he built the house that filling the attic with straw was dangerous. Now his house was impossible to live in. Looking past the mess, Alex noticed footprints near the fireplace. They were too small to be Edwards, which meant someone else had entered the home.
“Okay, this sucks.” Edward shouted. “What could have caused this kind of damage?”
“I don’t know, but I told you not to use straw when you built this death trap.” Krystoff said. “You should have copied my house.”
“Oh yes, because wood is so much better.” Edward bit back.
“Of course…”
Another sound from outside drew their attention. Running out the door, they headed to Krystoff’s home only to find that the roof had caved in as well. Stepping across what remained of threshold, Alex found wood strewn all over the place. Moving her gaze across the area, she found the same footprints near the fireplace. Her skin shivered knowing that someone, or something, was causing all the damage. Looking at both men, she knew they were furious.
“I am going to kill whoever has done this.” Krystoff yelled.
“You are?” Edward asked. “How do you think I feel?”
“You both need to relax.” Alex began. “Right now, let’s head back to my house. If both of yours have been hit, mine will be next.”
She could still hear sounds above them, but the darkened sky made it impossible to see anything. Walking through the thick snow, she got to her house within a few minutes. As far as she could tell everything seemed normal. Opening her front door, she heard noises above her head. Sounds of tapping on the rooftop. Dropping her coat to the ground, she rushed to the fireplace and made sure it was secure. As she reached the edge of the grate, a loud sound echoed within the darkness of the brick chimney.
“Whatever it is, it’s coming down.” Krystoff shouted.
Behind her both men drew out their swords. Alex wasn’t about to let them attack what was coming down, not until she knew what it was. Waiting, she held her breath in anticipation. One, two, ten seconds passed and nothing. Just as she stood, she felt her house shake, the force enough to make her balance falter. Falling to the ground, she heard another loud thud. Glancing back towards the fireplace she found a pair of boots standing on the timber, red clad pants moving up into the darkness.
“Who is that?” Krystoff asked. “A burglar?”
Alex leaned in closer and heard a muffled grunt behind the brick wall that covered the entry to the chimney.
“If you wouldn’t mind a bit of help, I fear I’ve gotten stuck.” A voice echoed from within the darkness.
“Give me a moment.” Alex answered back. “Now, I expect you to behave as I unravel your situation.”
“I will.” The stranger replied.
A few words whispered under her breath, Alex undid the spell of protection. The chimney flume released its hold on the man, and the rest of his body came crashing down into the small confines of the fireplace. Looking out from within the dust and ash was a man with a long white beard, his red clothes covered in soot.
“My my, this has been an awful night.” Santa began. “First, I land on a house that cannot hold even one of my reindeer’s and I come crashing in. Then, I try another home, and test it first and it seems sturdy enough, but when we land the roof caves in.” Santa stood up and brushed off his clothes. “Thankfully, your house was strong enough to hold my workers, but your chimney is quite odd.”
Alex knew both men behind her were unsure as to what to think. Both of their homes had been destroyed tonight, but only because they’d chosen the cheapest materials to build them with. She had always told them to use brick and concrete. If the situation wasn’t so crazy she might laugh. Now she found they a man who none though existed standing in her living room after destroying Edward and Krystoff’s homes.
“How are you going to get my home back?” Krystoff asked. “It’s completely destroyed.”
The man moved out from the fireplace and into the open. Alex could see that he still had cuts and abrasions from his fall through both houses. She wanted to apologize for what he’d gone through, but she knew that the boys were keeping their anger barely at bay.
“I am sorry for your loss, but I’ve never come across homes that were so weak.” Santa began. “How come you used such cheap materials? Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”
Edward moved forward. “We did not expect someone to land a hundred pound sleigh on the roof. It’s not supposed to happen.”
“I think we need to have him arrested for breaking and entering.” Krystoff replied. “Call the police.”
Alex took in all three men. “Enough.” she started
“He needs to pay for this.” Krystoff said. She watched as he got closer to Santa. “You give gifts all over the world, replace our houses.”
“Ho, ho ho,” Santa chuckled. “You both were naughty this year. Guess this karma thing does work.”
Before any of them could respond the man twitched his nose and was gone before they could say another word. Alex watched as both men rushed out the door only to stop at the end of the porch. Walking out to where they stood she looked up and saw what remained of Santa and his sleigh. He was already gone on to the next house and she had a good feeling the boys wouldn’t be able to catch him even if they tried.
“Hard lesson to learn guys, but one I hope you take to heart.” Alex said as she turned back toward her home. “Come on in and out of the cold. Let’s enjoy what remains of the evening and address your homes tomorrow.”
Both men shrugged and followed her inside. As the door shut Alex swore she heard Santa’s laugh fill her house, the empty spot below her tree suddenly filled with boxes of all sizes. Santa had left all their presents in one place. At least the holiday wasn’t a total loss. She just hoped the boys had learned their lesson.
Find Robyn Here…
website: www.rgporter.net
blog: www.rgporter.blogspot.com
Book link: When Darkness Falls: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006KRYMM4
Thank you for that fairytale Robyn. Glad you took up the challenge. Happy HolidayHop and Merry Christmas! 🙂
Remember, Readers there is a contest going on this blog for the HolidayHop. Read all the rules and take up the challenge here. There are fantastic prizes, just here on this blog you can win an ebook copy of an amazing collection of short stories plus you go into the grand HolidayHop prize draw for the Kindle Touch.Don’t forget to hop to the other bloggers this holiday season and let the festive spirit infect you!
It’s eleven days in…almost the end but not yet…there are still plenty of tales to read, interviews to follow and giveaways to enter…so if you have been one of the naughty ones this blog hop and not entered yet…click on the Christmas tree above and get hopping…There is still time! Hurry!
Today I have the pleasure of Ruth Barrett on the blog…Ruth specializes in ghostly tales…
The fat man blinked hard as he returned to consciousness. His head roared with pain and a heavy, drugged sensation. He tried to lift his arm to rub his bleary eyes, but found himself immobilized.
What the hell…?
With difficulty, he peered down the length of his rotund body. He was naked. His bulging stomach strained against what looked to be yards of Saran Wrap pinning him down onto a table. Confusion turned to terror as his twinkling blue eyes darted about the room. Beneath sheets of plastic meticulously taped in place, he recognized his own North Pole stables. His breathing quickened in visible white puffs in the chill air as he went over the last moments he recalled: slipping down a chimney in Miami, bending over his gift sack… then a sharp prickle in the side of his neck.
The fat man’s gaze landed on a display of photographs: dozens of reindeer who had served him well, only to be served as venison when they grew too old.
A man’s voice spoke low in his ear:
“Greetings, Santa. I am your Ghost of Christmas Past.”
Santa gasped as a blade deftly sliced a thin cut on his cheek…
[Note to bloghoppers-Aside: So just a reminder…Ruth’s Flash Fiction is the eighth entry into the Creepfest Challenge…Let me know what you think of it and check back here tomorrow for the seventh offering as you are going to help pick the winning Creepfest author at the end of the tour. Please let me know, in your comment below (or rate it at the top with stars), how you rate this eighth entry, in the challenge, by the imaginative Ruth Barrett out of 5 stars (5 = Brilliant).]
Ruth, you had me at “Dark Passenger”…Loved this festive spin on “The Dark Passenger”… Great story. Looking forward to tucking into your book, Base Spirits over the festive season. Happy Creepfest & Merry Christmas Ruth! 🙂
Don’t forget to enter my #Creepfest Reader Challenge….This is the last day to enter…Tomorrow I post the results and the winners…Hurry you could still be a WINNER!
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For more info on Tales for Canterbury (which includes my debut short story “The Ring of Fire), click below…
Today I have the pleasure of featuring a fairytale re-imagined by Jesse Kimmel-Freeman…She has re-imagined Little Red Riding Hood…
Once upon a time there was a seventeen-year-old girl name Emma. Emma was loved by all but especially her grandmother. Her grandmother loved her so much she made her a fine red velvet riding cloak. She wanted to ensure that Emma was nice and warm on the long walks that the girl liked to take. Emma loved the cloak so much that she never took it off, and everyone called her “Little Red Riding Hood.”
One day her mother asked Emma to take some cookies and milk to her ill grandmother. Her mother instructed her to behave properly while she walked and once she made it to her grandmother’s. It was important to stay on the right path and to respect her elders.
And so Emma left for her grandmother’s. The walk was far and Emma knew that if she dawdled, her poor sick grandmother would have no sweet cookies to help her feel better or nice milk to soothe her throat. Emma walked quickly and kept to the path.
“Good morning, Little Red Riding Hood.” A man dressed in all red called out to her.
“Morning, Mr. Claus.” She replied.
“Where are you headed all alone?” He smiled at her with rosy cheeks.
“I’m going to see my sick grandmama.” She told him.
“What do you have in your basket?” His eyes glittered like two shiny pieces of coal.
“I’m bringing my grandmama some cookies and milk to help her feel better.” Emma smiled at Santa Claus, her straight black hair following around her hood with the sudden breeze.
“Cookies and milk you say?” He licked his lips.
“Yes, now I really must be on my way.” She walked quickly away for she knew just how far her grandmother’s was.
Now Santa Claus thought to himself, “ that girl would surely be on the nice list. Bringing treats to her ailing grandmother. I bet they are very good cookies and the milk is nice and cold… I must be very crafty if I am to get those cookies.”
So Santa walked behind Emma for a little while. When he was certain of where she was headed, he slipped passed her and went to the grandmother’s cottage. He twitched his red nose, a few stray cookie crumbs falling from his beard and up he flew onto the roof. The chimney held no fire, so down he went.
He slid out the bottom in a nice cloud of black.
“Who’s there?” The woman called out from her room.
“Do not fret, it is only Saint Nick.” His voice full of joy.
“It’s not Christmas, what are you doing in my home?” She shouted.
Santa Claus quickly looked around the room for something he could use to tie the woman up. He found a pair of nylons hanging by the fireplace- along with a pair of socks. He grabbed them both and made his way to her room.
“What are you doing?” The woman called out in distress.
“You’re on the naughty list,” was all he said as he tied the old woman up and stuffed her in the closet.
He pulled on her robe and nightcap and got in the bed.
Little Red Riding Hood knocked on her grandmother’s door. She was tired from her long walk and wanted to return home to hang out with Dominic.
“Come in, Little Red.” A gruff voiced called out.
Emma was concerned because her grandmother didn’t sound well at all. She entered the house and found it to be quite dirty and dark.
“Grandmama?” Her voice barely over a whisper.
“I’m in my room.” She heard the reply.
She inched closer to the room, feeling dread and worry.
When she walked in, her grandmother looked bloated and odd.
“Grandmama, are you alright?” She asked as she came closer to the bed.
“I’m just a little under the weather, that’s all.” The gruff voice told her.
“Oh! Grandmama,” she said, “your ears have grown- they’re quite big now.”
“All the better to hear you, my dear child,” was the reply.
“But your eyes, what big eyes you have!” She said.
“All the better to see you with, dear.”
“And your hands, they’ve become so large!”
“All the better to hug you with.”
“Oh! But, grandmama, your mouth is so big!”
“All the better to eat your delicious cookies with.”
Santa jumped from the bed and snatched the baskets of treats from the frightened girl.
“Where is my grandmother?” She demanded.
“Don’t make me put you on the naughty list too, Red.” The fat man replied.
Emma watched in horror as Santa Claus devoured the cookies and guzzled the milk. His mouth crusted in crumbles. She was disgusted with the jolly man. Then she heard a noise.
She crept to the closet and found her grandmother tied up inside. She quickly undid the knots and freed her.
“Oh, it is on Santa.” Her grandmother exited the room and came back with a heavy cast iron skillet.
“How did you…” The shocked Santa said.
“You think you can just barge into my home, eat my treats, and leave me tied up in my own closet?” Her grandmother took a swing at Santa.
“Now, now.” He chuckled at her.
“I put you on the naughty list, Mr. Claus. Go back to your pole.” She swung and connected with his head.
Down he fell in a lump of red.
“Grandmama!” Emma squealed in shock.
“Don’t you worry, Emma. Get Grandmama the shovel… I’ve some trash to bury.” The old woman said to the girl.
Santa and his cookie stealing ways never bothered anyone ever again.
Follow Jesse on her blog and her website.
Thank you for that flash piece Jesse. I have always loved the story of Red Riding Hood and I enjoyed reading your version. Wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy Holiday Hop. 🙂
Remember, Readers there is a contest going on this blog for the HolidayHop. Read all the rules and take up the challenge here. There are fantastic prizes, just here on this blog you can win an ebook copy of an amazing collection of short stories plus you go into the grand HolidayHop prize draw for the Kindle Touch.Don’t forget to hop to the other bloggers this holiday season and let the festive spirit infect you!
Christmas Spirits
Twas the night before Christmas and as I lay down in bed I sent out a Christmas prayer.
“Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present I plead with you this dark night lit only by the moon.
My Christmas wish tonight is not for gifts of gold and silver wrapped trinkets or sweet morsels to fill my mouth.
My Christmas wish tonight is not for earthly peace nor endless sunshine and cloudless skies.
No, my Christmas wish is a touch, a kiss, a warm embrace, the whisper of my name on breath long disappeared.
My Christmas wish is for the living and the spirits to meet once more, even for a few hours.
My Christmas wish is to tell those that left me how I loved them and how I missed their presence in my life.
My Christmas wish is to hear the sweet tinkling bells of their laughter and to feel the warmth of their smiles.
My Christmas wish is to tell them that though their spirits now walk this realm and the next, their love remains alive in my heart.
Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present I plead with you this dark night lit only by the moon.” As the moon disappeared behind veiled clouds of deep grey, I fell asleep with trickling rain dripping down my cheek.
It was not long and I heard a sound and felt a warm caress dry the rain’s tears from my cheek.
A voice bent down to my ear and whispered my name and I heard tinkling laughter coming from all corners of the room.
I slowly opened my eyes and looked to see what marvel had appeared in my room under the clouded sky.
There in a bed, covered up to the chin by a heavy blanket of death-white, lay a girl with a dried tear on her cheek.
Her hair was smooth and dark against the white of the pillow and her lips were bruised as if some kiss had longed to punish them.
I heard the tinkling laughter then and looked to my side and behind me.
There were ethereal specters there all around the bed of this lost girl.
The moon had disappeared but pale light shone through their shadowy forms.
I looked back at the girl wondering where I had seen her before.
One of these specters looked at me then for the first time and smiled a smile that embraced my soul in warmth and light.
The specter’s lips did not move but a low melodious sound came from him like a cello chasing the sound of light in a moonless night:
“We heard your Christmas plea little one. You did not ask for earthly peace nor endless sunshine and cloudless skies.
You did not ask for gold and silver wrapped trinkets or sweet morsels to fill your mouth.
Your Christmas wish was for the living and the spirits to meet once more.
So here we come, at your call and as you wished…all the spirits who loved you once and missed you long.”
But dear one the living must sacrifice life itself to walk with the spirits…Your sacrifice has been a tender gift for us this Christmas Past.”Then he stretched out his hand and he touched mine.
I trembled in fear at his words and wished to take back my Christmas plea.
I had not wished to sacrifice life, what of all those I love this Christmas Present.
His hand went right through air and though I could feel his strong grasp, there was no hand to cling to in return.
I looked down again at the lost girl lying asleep in eternity and knew that my heart would ache to feel the tears of rain or light of the moon again.
No more endless sunshine nor cloudless skies for me. No earthly peace nor gifts of gold and silver.
No touch, no kiss, nor embrace, sweet laughter, nor whispers of my name.These specters were only veils of what had been warm breath and soft laughter, shed tears and sweet memories.
The lost girl lay in bed as the clouded sky gave way to the all seeing eye of the morning.
All around I could hear carolers singing and in the house far away I could hear mother and father calling out “Merry Christmas.”
The lost girl did not stir. Christmas Eve had come and passed taking her with it.
I watched the two people I had once known as mom and dad come running in with gifts of gold and silver wrapped trinkets spilling forth from their embrace.
I saw the woman collapse to the floor before he could catch her and the sounds that poured forth from both pulled a veil over the sun, their misery was so great.I knew then, looking at the ugly grief of the couple where I recognised that lost girl.
She had been this same specter once before when it breathed, laughed, hoped and loved.
I took one last glance at the lost girl and the grieving couple and I bent down and whispered my forgotten name in the woman’s ear.
She shivered at the sound of my whisper and glanced wildly around searching for that missing girl
I touched the man’s arm but he shook my touch off as if a cruel thing had pierced him.The specter who had spoken so melodiously before beckoned me once more.
The other ethereal forms had drifted off as the moon had been swallowed by the morning.
He looked at me once again and his face showed pain so great and so forlorn:
“Come child, you are no more. Now you walk the realm with those who have gone before.”Now I walk this realm and the next longing for a warm touch, a sweet kiss and shared laughter.
I visit all the homes of my loved ones each Christmas, silently coming in with the moonlight and leaving with the sun.
I am moonlight and stardust, wind and water but ancient spirit I remain.Heed the wishes you make on Christmas night for twas a wish such as this that took my breath…
Heed the living and love the present for the realm of spirits leaves much to be attained…Heed the Christmas wish that regrets the past, forgetting your gift of Now but love life lest you sacrifice it.
Christmas Spirits, both ancient and present keep your silence, the living seek you out…