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A Modern YA Christmas Carol, by Elizabeth Muster

19/12/2017

“Thlink.” My bell froze mid-ring as Evan “Sneezer” Scrooge shoved a gum wrapper into the red bucket’s thin slot.

As I inched my foot out to trip him, a lady pushed her cart between us.

“Ho Ho!” her toddler cried, swinging his legs from the front of the cart.

I rang the bell near Sneezer’s ear. “Merry Christmas!”

“Bah, humbug.” Sneezer stomped off.

“That’s not Santa,” the mom said.

But, actually, I am to my brother Tim. Otherwise he wouldn’t get any presents this year.

I wiped the corner of my eye with my sleeve. Red fleece. “Ho, ho, ho.”

The Holidays, by Don Tassone

19/12/2017

The lights, the tree, presents, stockings, carolers, the endless stream of parties and guests, junk food, driving, noise.

The holidays wore him out. What he used to love as a child he came to hate as an adult.

Now he sat alone, watching a blinking star on his neighbor’s rooftop through his front window, sipping egg nog, wishing someone would drop by.

The Raggedy Mattress, by Steve Carr

19/12/2017

I lay head my oily head on the raggedy mattress of my old sturdy bed. In the darkness, as I drift off to a tenuous sleep, my three legged cat settles in its usual nighttime spot on the edge of the mattress. I toss and turn. I strain to calm my worries as I lay on my raggedy mattress that is ripped and torn. My love addled cat lays her head on my outstretched arm until morning. She shares my raggedy mattress unaware I think of the rips and tears, getting bigger with the passing years.

First Pole Problems, by Stephen J. Leroux

19/12/2017

“I know you miss the Mrs., but Santa, you’ve been flipping through that profile over and over.”

The jolly-less man draped in red velour barely acknowledged his head elf. The shades drawn to block the nearly endless late August sun. Still time to turn things around, but the entire North Pole was falling into disarray - pelleted piles of reindeer droppings in too many corners.

Santa mumbled, “I adjust the filters: 100 miles, 1000 miles, it doesn’t matter.” He tapped the screen, “She’s the only one.”

“We’re a little remote for online dating. What site are you on anyway?”

“Santas only.”

Holiday, 2017, by Iris N. Schwartz

19/12/2017

In your home: tinsel displayed on tiny tree. Christmas cards, opened, dump glitter on laps. On elevator: neighbors, their kids, clutch gift-stuffed shopping bags. Wheelchair woman races across street amid silent DON’T WALK / DON’T WALK taunts. You buy strawberries, blueberries, blackberries from Broadway fruit guy instead of supermarket because fruit guy smiles at you and his berries look fresher. She addresses Harvey, Bouncer, and Latke when she sees them, but doesn’t remember owners’ names. You rush cards and money to super, mailman, though Disability check arrives fourth Thursday each month.

Christmas Again, by Adam Smith

18/12/2017

Robin sobbed as she watched her mother carrying the tray of cookies out from the kitchen. Daddy took one before the tray was even on the table, his grin as wide as Montana. Mother pretended to be angry and slapped his hand, then he pulled her down onto his lap and covered her face and neck in kisses.

The light faded and Robin wiped her eyes. She missed them so. Christmas was never the same after they had died in that terrible wreck.

She restarted the video once more, leaning in even closer to the monitor and memory this time.

Don't Bug Me On Christmas, by Adam Smith

18/12/2017

“They are weak and fragile. Just destroy them.”

“We were once a young species as well, Jarnaak. Give them time. They haven’t even left their solar system yet.”

“Rugaal, you are such a romantic. These beings are nothing more than insects! The universe would never notice if they disappeared.”

“Jarnaak, think of what you say! What if we had never been given the chance to evolve? What if we were wiped out just because we were young and ignorant?”

“Any superior species would move on and forget the insects they had squashed.”

“But Jarnaak, it’s Christmas! Are we not Human?”

The Surprise, by O. Gränd

18/12/2017

Nick clawed at the bricks inside the chimney. Air no longer fit in his lungs. It had looked big enough from above, but now he was stuck.

Soot clogged his nostrils.

Emma would be furious. She had begged him to come down the chimney for years.

“Emma!” Desperation made his voice crack. It wouldn’t be the surprise she’d wanted, but it would be a surprise all the same when she found him.

The sound of the choke opening rose from beneath. “Emma?”

First came a trickle of smoke, then heat licked at his feet.

“No, Emma! Emma, please!”

Transcendence, by Michael Croban

18/12/2017

His footsteps echoed through the empty corridor. He was walking around in circles, biting his nails. He stopped. Suddenly, silence. Helplessness was overwhelming. Screams obliterated silence in a second; screams so terrifying, he could feel the colossal pain behind them. Through the window, he saw the snow falling quietly, as though it was in another dimension. Was it Christmas already? Screams stopped. The deafening silence ensued. He forgot to breathe; sterile air filled his lungs when he inhaled. Someone somewhere was laughing. “It’s a girl,” the voice yelled. The sense of relief flooded his soul.“What a Christmas present!" He cried.

Widower's Holiday, by Adam Smith

18/12/2017

Elizabeth died after Thanksgiving, despite her wish to live to see Christmas.

George had heard the terrible, wet sucking sound of her last breath. He had watched the light leave her eyes and he had felt her hand cool, as he held it in his own.

The doctor said there had been no pain, but George knew better.

Elizabeth would feel the pain of an eternity of guilt for having left him during the Holidays. He was sickened and saddened by the thought and vowed to never celebrate again. He kept his promise, dying himself on the twenty-third of December.

At Home In Carolina, by David Lawson

18/12/2017

A warm wind blows off the ocean, bringing the smells of fresh bread, ham and pecan pie into my room, waking me. It is quiet and calm; Mom is finishing breakfast as we gather in the dining room…it’s Christmas Day on Sullivan’s Island outside of Charleston. The Christmas tree lit with candles, handmade decoration and presents for the family. It’s a day that will be ever etched in our minds. Christmas at home with the ones you love.

“Lieutenant…wake up. You’re dreaming”

“Where am I?”

“You are at a Union hospital, your wound became infected. You’re in Gettysburg.”

Buzz Aldrin Would Understand, by Robert Bermudez

18/12/2017

Santa reached down and patted the little one's furry head while gazing into three sincere, hopeful eyes. He could feel the tentacles which held onto him squeeze tighter in nervous anticipation. He loved their innocence as much now as ever.

"Look under your Grakkalak on Christmas morning" he said with a wink.

The little banok squealed with delight. His rakka beamed and reached out for him with her three-fingered claw as the next little banok scurried up, eyes all purple with excitement.

It always amused him humans thought they were the only ones who had Christmas.

The Way Forward, by Fliss Zakaszewska

18/12/2017

“…why don’t you sign up for internet banking?”

“I’m no good with computers.”

“It’s really easy…” Libby talked yet another customer through the routine as she’d been trained to do.

December 2016: Slypperies Bank closed 2,000 branches – didn’t need them now so many people used internet banking. Libby was made redundant – but she got a job at Penny-Save Supermarket.

*****

“Where’s the ‘express’ checkout, love?”

“There isn’t one, but I’ll help you with self-scan,” said the ever-helpful Libby.

By December 2017 Penny-Save installed another twelve self-scans in every store. Last in, first out, Libby was unemployed again. Merry Christmas.

In The Bleak Mid-Winter, by Martin Donaghy

18/12/2017

In the bleak mid-winter…

By the Sacred Fire, I gnawed a blackened bone then took pleasure in the booze soaked straw.

By Columba’s cross, I stroked the crib where He first gurgled then stuffed my gut to ease the Fast.

By John Knox’s pulpit, I heard, “No pagan singing!” then up ‘n toiled like every day.

By the glowing hearth, I bent dead Albert’s tree then drew an orange from a tattered sock.

By the flickering screen, I watch Mrs. Brown then listen for a phone call or a chap on the door

Belgemount: The Terror, by Owoh Ugonna

18/12/2017

On the winter night, a voice came from westward, seeming much like a lost owl, but stolen was stolen by a Lady.

She's Shota; witch of Belgemount.

She swore her throat to the throne of Belgemount, but needn't kill her Lord.

Forth night ago, she flew westward, because she had to pay the price of magic.

She couldn't surrender her throat like the beast of Belgemount; her father to the knights as they slew her to weakness.

She calls vengeance, and when she strikes. 'Belgemount would have to offer her death.

When Mary Got Afraid, by Sandhya Anand

18/12/2017

Pregnant Mary and her husband wanted to escape the wretched war torn country which was led by a man of actions, but mostly brutal ones. The city was swarmed with vagabonds like them even though it was Christmas season. A plight from poverty to utopia. Her hopes slowly dwindled with time as the borders got shut. She hoped to get a boy who like her husband would risk his life to protect her dignity. She remembered her little sister who got raped and killed and frantically searched the night sky for another Star of David with tearful eyes.

Away From Home, by Faseehullah Irshad

18/12/2017

Like earth humans have gravity, everything they throw comes back straight back to them.

In snow flurry Leavenworth seemed as a sky with mini string lights like stars wearing colorful cloaks on Christmas Eve. After two days it was Eid and probably no one here knew about it.

Remembering my cackling kid Abdullah I thought of wishing neighboring family Christmas.

“Hi, Miss Michele I brought some presents for your kid”

She accepted with rejoicing smile.

It knocked at my door on third morning.

I opened.

It was Miss Michele carrying Eid Cake. Little Justin behind her said “Happy Eid”

Santa Did It, by Adam Smith

18/12/2017

“This guy the victim fingered, he got an alibi?”

“Yeah, he’s a Santa. He’s got witnesses saying he was at work at the time of the robbery.”

“Don’t he wear a costume, a red suit, beard and glasses?”

“That’s right. He dresses like Santa and visits with children all day.”

“So, suppose you wanted to steal some jewels and needed an alibi. You think it would be possible to get someone to dress like Santa and take your place at the store for a few hours?”

“For the right amount of dough, sure. My friend, you are a genius.”

Toys, by Don Tassone

18/12/2017

A train set, Hot Wheels, a football, a bicycle.

These were his favorite toys. They made him happy.

Mercedes S-Class, Cartier watch, Armani suits, $3 million house, condo in Florida, Callaway clubs, Cruiser Cantius.

These were his new favorite toys. They made him happy.

He got a Timex at his retirement party. His wife loved it.

“It’s so sweet,” she said. “So simple and real.”

But it embarrassed him. He stuffed it in the back of his sock drawer.

His wife passed away suddenly. Eventually, he sold all his toys. But he kept the Timex. It makes him happy.

Christmas-Cross, by Adam Smith

18/12/2017

Greg handed his revolver to Peter, then reached into the trunk and removed the briefcase full of bills.

He knew he’d been double-crossed when he felt the gun against his kidney.

“Put that case back.”

He did as he was told.

“Give me the keys and get in the trunk.”

Again, Greg complied.

As Peter closed the trunk, he whispered, “Happy Holidays, asshole.”

Greg fumbled around and found his tool box. He retrieved the nine-millimeter semi-automatic that his wife had given him for Christmas. He knew Peter would drive someplace secluded and dark. That would make things much easier.

One Day, by Reynold Junker

18/12/2017

“I like that idea.”

"And what idea is that?"

Christmas vacation over they were sitting in the JFK airport departure lounge. He’d been reading Our Town. Assigned reading. She was studying the departure board.

"Thornton Wilder’s idea of, before you die, reliving your choice of any one day in your life. For me it would be the day we met. The day I first saw you.”

She didn’t say anything.

“And you?”

“And me what?’

“What one day would you relive?”

“I really don’t know. I guess I’d have to think about it. Do you think it’s going to snow?”

The Sacrifice, by Steve Lucas

17/12/2017

‘Save my mother!’
‘I can’t do that,’ said God.
‘Yes you can. Give me the cancer instead!’ he cried.
‘Don’t you see?’ God smiled. ‘Six months ago it was you who had the cancer. Your mother insisted that she took it instead.’
‘Change it back.’
‘What’s done is done.’
‘I can’t let my mother sacrifice herself for me.’
God sighed. ‘Do you want your mother to watch her only son die? What will happen to her then?’
John gazed through the hospital window, fists slowly unclenching.
His mother’s eyes had already closed.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered.
Snow began to fall.

All That Matters, by Adam Smith

17/12/2017

Randy fought frustration as other drivers cut him off, honked, made rude gestures, or shouted profanities.

He arrived at the mall and was about to pull into a parking space when another car swept in, stealing his spot. He sighed and parked elsewhere.

Fake Santas, obnoxious crowds and overbearing sales people combined to make his shopping experience the worst ever.

The bracelet was overpriced and the quality not up to a typical standard of workmanship.

He bought it, had it wrapped, took it home and placed it beneath the tree. She would love it and that’s all that mattered.

A Career Choice, by Sankar Chatterjee

17/12/2017

The newly-minted CEO slashed 15,000 positions promising to sell breakthrough medicines (in pipeline) to the highest bidder, gaining Wall Street’s accolade. Office-chatters around the water-cooler began:

Organic Chemist: I create new molecules, I’m safe.

Biologist: I evaluate them in animal-models, I’m safe too.

Accountant: Money talks here, so I’ll stay.

Regulatory: Documents for FDA and EU detailing those “breakthroughs” stay with me. They’ll need me.

Security guards escorted out everyone by mid-day. However, the corporation re-hired the regulatory, now as an expert consultant. His job to deal with two bureaucracies will continue for several more years. Finally, he feels safe.

Plastic Snow and Fiber Trees, by Martin McConnell

17/12/2017

She held the tiny 3D printed snowflake that her son’s wife purchased at a gas station eight Christmases ago, before the grandkids were born, too heavy for the tiny tree of glass fibers sitting beside the cancer results.
She forgave the girl for stealing her son, and apologized for the harsh words sparked after receiving the trinket. Anything to see them again, she wished.
She answered the door chime.
Behind it, Kyle shouldered a tiny but real fir tree, and two excited children screamed, “Grandma!”
Maria’s hands trembled with a box labeled decorations. “Hi Mom. Can we start over?”

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