Blog Archives

The Baby Reindeer, by Margaret Jennings

19/12/2016

Nose soft, eyes huge, bleating softly for his mother. Reindeer milk from a bottle made of skin. He burps, sleeps.
Darkness cloaks this room of firelight, dog with elbows hard as iron, fawn with legs longer than reason.

***
My grandchildren will come in the morning, strewing snow, chattering like lightning.
‘He will become a mighty buck,’ I say, ‘just like me.’
They laugh, climb into my lap, argue about feeding the fawn, wear the studded dog collar as a crown.

***

Fire flickers, foal bleats, I am tired.

Christmas eve is such a busy night for me and my reindeer.

Saguaro In The Snow, by Ann-Louise Truschel

19/12/2016

Winner of the Friday Flash Fiction Christmas Competition, 2016

Snow tufted the arms of the giant cactus as it stood there, alone, a silent sentinel in a field of white, stoically accepting the cold. The white desert blended into the white-gray sky making the day feel colder than it was. Nothing moved in the still air. Only my footprints indicated that a living being had traveled through.

Grampa loved the desert in winter. He loved to walk among the snow-blanketed saguaros, standing there like soldiers guarding his special spot.

Today, I brought Grampa’s ashes here to bury them beneath his favorite old saguaro. Two old friends spending eternity together.

Sponsored by Comely Bank Publishing

The Old Man And The Window, by Preeti Singh

18/12/2016

There was an old man who never slept at night. I saw him often from my room, I recognized him but didn't know him.

There was a flickering light in his room, it disturbed me and didn't let me sleep either. I always wanted to shout 'Uncle, could you turn off the light' but never did.

My sister got married and I shifted to her room. I never saw him again; now I could only see a closed window with broken glass. I wonder where he is? Initially the open window troubled me and now it's the closed one.

Filters And Memory, by Eric Smith

17/12/2016

My oldest brother told me my second oldest brother wrote a treatise for school about cigarette filters. The gist concerned people finishing their filtered smokes and dropping them on the ground, streets, and sidewalks. His premise was that the leftover paper and tobacco would biodegrade whereas the filters wouldn’t. Eventually the old filters would cover the entire earth.

When I asked my oldest brother about it years later he told me perhaps my other brother planned to write such a paper but never did. Upon reflection he said, "Maybe I simply dreamt our brother intended to write such a paper."

In The Bleak Midwinter, by Alison McHarg

17/12/2016

Following the primal instincts for gathering that the season brings, I go to the office lunch. Seated in the corner is the sales team.

Heart lurching, I take a space at the opposite end. Painful memories. It was Christmas last year when we got together. I saw a bright future and craved forever.

What was actually on offer was temporary - and, emotions trashed, I was the one to lose when the position closed.

Shame that big Chinese order has been stopped.

Well, they do say that class is permanent but that (cancellation) form is just temporary…

Jaberwocky, by Amy Friedman

16/12/2016

“Once upon a time…”
“Yeah?”
“Wait. I’m trying to think.”
“Don’t DO that!”
“What?”
“If there’s once upon a time, a story has to follow. Otherwise it’s nothing.”
“Well sometimes it’s hard to think of something.”
“What else is new?”
“How about ‘They lived happily ever after?’ “
“Oh come on! That’s supposed to be the END of the story!”
“So? That could work.”
“Oh lord. Don’t say it.”
“Once upon a time, they lived happily ever after.”
“NOOOOOOO!”
“I could include ‘The end’.”
“I REALLY don’t know why I talk to you.”
“Well gee. Happy Christmas to you too.”

Drunk Again, by Johann Lux

16/12/2016

(Image:author)

The first signals received from intelligent extraterrestrial life appeared ten years ago on the digital display panels of microwave ovens. Scientist attributed these flashing ones and zeros to solar flare activity, until last week, when a ten year old child decoded the binary message, which is an urgent warning concerning a large number of incoming merciless asteroids.

With the Earth about to be obliterated at midnight, leaving only 17 minutes of existence, I drank a large quantity of scotch and saw a face in a wall clock grinning back at me.

Turns out the message was meant for planet Mars.

The Frog Who Mistook the Mayan Trail for the Inca Trail, by Sankar Chatterjee

16/12/2016

I looked again at the animal-head sculpture on the historic wall of the Mayan ruins in Copan, Honduras. Suddenly, it hit me. It was my friend Paul’s beloved pet frog Gilly’s preserved head. On his disappearance, Paul explained that Gilly had hiked on the Inca Trail to the ruins of Machu Picchu in Peru. Alas! On return trip, Gilly must had taken a wrong turn into the Mayan Trail, ending up in the rival civilization of the Mayans in Copan, Honduras. Though an advanced civilization, the Mayans were known to behead the enemies. What a sad end to Gilly’s life!

Just A Rusty Old Nail, by Fliss Zakaszewska

16/12/2016

“Ouch!” Charlie sucked his hand. He’d caught it on a rusty old nail on the cottage door.

Before that - last Christmas Charlie had helped Grandma hang the wreath on the rusty old nail.

Before that - Charlie, ten, had proudly hung up the wreath All By Himself!

Before that - three-year-old Charlie watched Grandma bang a shiny nail into the door then lifted him so he could hang the wreath.

Now… A ‘For Sale’ sign in the window. There was no wreath. Grandma was gone. Just a rusty old nail, like an antique hat-stand, holding his precious Christmas memories.

And It Came To Pass, by Gordon Lawrie

16/12/2016

(Image: Alkelda)

The stablemates were growing restless.

“That’s up to three, now,” said the cow. “These immigrants breed like rabbits.”

“Why come here anyway?” the sheep bleated. “Haven’t they got their own land? They’re taking our mangers!”

The cow nodded across the barn. “That donkey smuggled them in, Melania. I’d turn it into glue. Know what? I’d build a wall to stop people coming – and make people pay for it!”

“Great idea, Donald!”

Suddenly, they looked out in horror. Three more humans – shepherds – were approaching.

“Jesus,” said the cow.

Behind them, a human spoke. “Hey, great name! Let’s call the baby that.”

Hope, by Amy Friedman

16/12/2016

"What’s this?” Emissary brayed, face flushed red. “Get this filth out of here!”

The pile of grey skins shivered slightly. Emissary rounded on the sanitation worker.

“Do your job,” he roared, spittle flying. “Thousands want it.”

Wheeling around, Emissary and entourage swept off. Impa pushed his broom, watching until the last one rounded the corner.

“You’re safe now,” Impa rumbled. Stretching his arms slightly, he wrapped them around the pile of skins. Warmth seeped from him as he lifted the skins into the truck.

“Why?” a cracked voice whispered. Female. His heart contracted.

“Tis the season,” he rumbled. “Merry Christmas.”

Holiday Kindness, by Russell Conover

16/12/2016

Frank was in the mall shopping for gifts. He passed by a boy on Santa’s lap, and happened to overhear. “Santa, I hope you have a Merry Christmas delivering all the gifts. Our family only has enough money for one small present each.” The boy’s voice caught. “We manage, though.”

Moved, Frank walked right over. “Son, I happened to overhear. I’d be honored to treat each of your family members to any gift. You all deserve to be happy.”

Tears were in the boy’s eyes, and in Santa’s. “You deserve my hat,” Santa said, handing it off. “What a miracle.”

The Invisible Prophet, by Guy Fletcher

15/12/2016

It is Christmas Eve and darkness falls. Desperate male shoppers linger like the last leaves on winter trees. Giant reindeer sparkle with a golden hue but there's a bitter wind down Queen Street.

The man waving the Bible in the air does not care, he feels the Holy Spirit keeps him warm yet he preaches to the unconverted.

Shoppers do not afford him a second glance in the Welsh capital opposite the castle, adorned with a golden bracelet.

However, a homeless man huddled with sleeping bag in a doorway listens. After all, he is used to being invisible too.

Merry Christmas, Alice, by Johann Lux

14/12/2016

Alice sitting up in bed looking through her photo album reminded me with a giggle, that every story tells a picture and then began reminiscing out loud.

This is Alice’s first Christmas without her husband George, at her side and sadly, all three of her children are no shows. She blames their absence on the snow. She’s forgotten this nursing home is in San Diego.

11: 58 PM, Alice’s heart stops. I send a flat line signal that gets no response.

Alice’s brain displays an unusual burst of electrical energy as a ball of light joyfully floats out the window.

Endless Christmas Eve, by Michael Croban

13/12/2016

It was beautiful. An old wooden cottage decorated with Christmas lights. Its roof covered with layers of fresh snow. There were people inside, laughing and celebrating. Their footsteps leading into the house. Perfectly shaped Christmas tree stood in front of the house, its branches slightly bent from the heavy snow. Silly looking snowman was protecting the house, but he didn't notice that someone left the whole bag of nicely wrapped gifts right on the doorstep.

“It's perfect,“ he said to the lady behind the counter.

“I will take it!“ She gave him the crystal ball.

“My daughter will love it.”

The Lone Drinker, by Ian Fletcher

13/12/2016

Laden with Christmas shopping, I stop for a pint.

“Alright,” says the lone drinker at the bar.

“Alright,” I reply.

As it’s Christmas I stand and chat.

“What a waste of time Christmas is!” he rants.

“Yeah, I’ve been shopping all afternoon.”

“For what? It’s just consumerism,” he says.

“Right.”

“It’s based on fake news anyway,” he continues.

“Huh?”

“Yes, the Annunciation!” he says, laughing at his joke.

I drink up, saying I must get my bus.

Outside, I am one with the tired hordes of shoppers, glad to escape the lone drinker who’s missed the whole point of Christmas.

Christmas Morning, by Zane Castillo

11/12/2016

Michael shivered as he trudged through the snow. He had worked a long shift on Christmas Eve that extended into the early morning. A loud shriek caused him to turn his head sharply to the sound. Through the window of a house, children raced into a living room. They began to ecstatically open gifts, with wrapping paper flying everywhere. Shouts of delight and wonder reached Michael’s ears, as the children showed their toys to one another. He began to walk again but at a faster pace, as he thought about his family opening their gifts and missing their joyful reactions.

Little White Lies, by Chris Cole

11/12/2016

Over post-dinner drinks we thoroughly dissect the arguments around one of the most important parenting decisions in the western world. When to spill the beans about Santa? Opinions vary, but we're unanimous at least in that it's simply a question of when, not if.

Car troubles the next day find me dropping my nephew off at Sunday School. He runs inside with his friends. I quietly wonder how to convince my sister that honest answers to the questions he'll come home with should be a matter of when, not if, as well. Surely Santa is the lesser of two evils.

Tides, by Chris Cole

11/12/2016

He watched the water sweep back and forth, slowly receding from newly formed rock pools, the foam glowing dimly under the light of a billion stars splayed across the firmament. His daughter followed his gaze up to the night sky.

"Daddy...why does the tide happen? Can we make it change?"

He looked down, saw her blinking up at him, questioning. Steering his thoughts back from the divorce, he tousled her hair, mustering a wan smile.

"It's a bit complicated, but you'll understand it when you're older. And no...sometimes there are forces we can't control, sweetheart."

He gave her a hug.

The Spirit Of Christmas Past, by Ian Fletcher

10/12/2016

My brother and I wake before dawn and creep downstairs.

Our parents sleep soundly.

Opening the living room door we switch on the lights.

There, under the Christmas tree are two piles of presents.

One is labeled ‘Ian’, the other ‘Guy’.

Ah, rarely in life have I experienced such perfect joy since that Christmas Day!

Alas, my parents passed away many years ago.

Yet, this Christmas Eve my wife and I have laid two piles of presents under our own Christmas tree.

One is labeled ‘Seren’, the other ‘Vanessa’.

Our two daughters sleep peacefully, but shall wake earlier than us.

Holiday Cabin, by Russell Conover

9/12/2016

Sid gazed at the perfect holiday cabin, for his family. Snow and icicles dangled from the roof perilously yet beautifully. The lights inside created a sense of warmth on the frigid day. The wooden structure oozed stability and comfort during tumultuous times. The large porch, complete with rocking chairs, was inviting to all.

Sighing, Sid lowered the postcard, with an image of the cabin he could never afford, and he gazed at the run-down shack he and his family would actually be using. However, family was most important, and he knew they’d all enjoy the holidays despite their basic accommodations.

The Fall, by Guy Fletcher

9/12/2016

"Helena."

The woman stopped to observe the decrepit man on the bench. It was him.

"I'm so sorry about Julia. I'll never get over it," he whined.

There was however very little left of the e-list folk singer. His face was bloated, once immaculate black hair, greasy, grey and receding, self pity in his watery eyes.

He recalled his last words to her sister before she killed herself.

"You're stifling me. Go and find someone else to cling to. Get out of my life for ever."

Helena felt hatred...yet knew he'd soon walk the earth no more.

Diversity In The Workplace, by Fliss Zakaszewska

9/12/2016

Two elves came to our office today. That was OK, but reindeer, one with a luminous nose…? The lady dancing around the North Pole as snow fell, made you feel distinctly chilly, and of course, here come the Minions all with furry red hats. Every workplace should have Minions.

It was going to be an interesting day at work with Santa delivering Christmas cupcakes.

“Oh really…? Olaf the snowman too?” murmured Ben, rolling his eyes.

“Huh-huh.”

“Whoever thought of Christmas Jumper Day should be shot. Bah, humbug!”

“And a Merry Bah, Humbug to you too Ben.”

A Christmas Story, by Gordon Lawrie

9/12/2016

The first few Christmas trees were, as ever, an event. This year, the fashion was something a little different, a strange variety of fir tree with no needle-drop. Only keen observers would have spotted that each tree had its own lighting pattern, though.

Many more trees appeared as Advent progressed, more than ever before; even small gardens seemed to have fifteen or twenty.

By the time anyone had cottoned on, the aliens were in total control. Their proclamation was in light-speak, of course, not that any Earthlings understood.

But this year the decorations wouldn’t be coming down on Twelfth Night.

Sammy's Gift, by Joann Majerle

8/12/2016

Santa was in the Johnsons’ kitchen munching a raisin cookie when he felt a tug on his pants leg. Looking down he saw a little brown dog named Sammy staring up at him pleadingly. “Why are you looking at me so solemnly?” asked Santa. In response, Sammy turned toward the Christmas tree and hung his head. “Ah, I see,” said Santa. “You want a gift just like everybody else. Let’s see what’s in my bag.” Next day the Johnsons were astonished to see Sammy sitting contentedly on his cushion wearing a bright red doggie vest that said “Santa Was Here”.

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