Blog Archives

Annus Horribilis, by Don Tassone

28/12/2023

It had turned out to be a horrible year.

A year of violent invasions, of strongmen flexing their muscles, of grinding civil wars.

A year of wildfires, floods, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, droughts and famine.

A year of bitter political division, of border clashes, of book bans.

A year of protests and civil unrest. A year of religious persecution. Another year of the spread of a deadly virus.

A year when people were made anxious by the advance of technologies that threatened to replace man.

Yes, it had been a horrible year. Maybe next year, 1548, would be better.

The Last Box Set in Coolock, by Rona Fitzgerald

23/12/2023

May had been running all day, last minute Christmas stuff. She was delighted to see the pharmacy open at 6.15. The kids loved the bath bombs and May loved the colourful box. They were all she could afford. When she asked the Pharmacist, he told her the box sets were all gone. May was devasted. On the way out of the shop, she met the younger pharmacist, Nora.
May told her the box sets were all gone.
Nora reassured her.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve stashed a few away for you May. The boss
tries to keep them for his wealthy clients.’

A Special Day, by Pamela Kennedy

22/12/2023

"But when will he come?"
"Soon."
"But when?"
"He won't come if you're awake."
"But..."
"Go to sleep now."

***

Soon sleigh bells will be heard and "HO! HO! HO!" will echo through the frosty air.

***

Wrapping papers and ribbons strewed across the floor. Giggles, laughter, surprised eyes and "Wows" galore...precious moments, special moments, all of these moments to be treasured forever.
Through children, the magic of the holiday allows us to recapture
the joys of our own childhood even if it is only for a day.

2023 Christmas Competition: ENTRIES CLOSED

15/12/2023

Flutter By, by Steven Holding

15/12/2023

A tingling sense of expectation swells within their belly. The moment has finally arrived.
Silk thread is secreted then artfully weaved; a delicate blanket wrapped tightly around their stiffening body. Inside the cocoon, everything is all-consuming. Time stretches, loses meaning. Identity rapidly disintegrates as a new self slowly takes shape.
Bathing rays of golden sunlight encourage their nervous emergence: a trembling creature, fragile during this miraculous rebirth. Bearing witness to the beauty of such a transformation is a fitting reward for my perseverance and patience.
I take their hand, hold them in my arms.
Place a kiss upon their lips.

Curled in Marco’s Arms, by Alyce Clark

15/12/2023

Aria sits curled in Marco’s arms- one ear listing to the steady, calming beat of his heart, the other taking in the rain as it lands gently on the cabin’s rooftop. She sighs contentedly as Marco strokes her hair, smiling down at her. It is a rare and wonderful Christmas for them- neither of them having known love before. A simple string of colored lights adorns the room. Candles, scattered here and there, flicker as the smell of pine permeates the cabin… Marco’s heartfelt proposal, Aria’s joyful tears, a borrowed white dress, an unexpected elopement, and now a Christmas honeymoon.

Man/Kin, by Steven Holding

15/12/2023

There’s more of me, I’m sure.
An army.
Back-ups, stacked up neatly, patiently waiting to be activated. I’ve seen glimpses within shared dreams, identical twins gazing into shards of infinity mirrors, looking both out and in.
This knowledge grants me immunity. No clone’s alone. You only die when you choose to. Any accident, any illness resulting in fatality, a replica steps up to replace me. Immortality through repetition. My best investment yet.
So, it’s crashed cars, OD’s, slit wrists for a giggle. All open avenues.
Reality is an agreement, a shared conversation between like-minded people. I just talk to myself.

Keeping with Tradition, by Iseult Murphy

15/12/2023

Robin burst into tears when she opened the box of Christmas tree ornaments.

The glittering glass eyes and knitted, carved, and painted red breasts waiting in the box overwhelmed her with grief.

There would be no more robins for the tree from Mum.

Robin found a living robin perched in the branches of the tree on Christmas morning. It flew to her hand and stood calmly on her trembling finger as she carried it to the backdoor. It stayed with her for a few moments, sang a burst of mournful song, and then flew away.

“Love you, Mum,” Robin whispered.

While Shepherds Washed No Socks, by Tracey Pearson

15/12/2023

Ma Shepherd saw the light on the washer blink in a way that could only be a sign. And lo, by the time the machine reached the spin cycle, the prophesy came to pass. The sodding thing was knacked. Angelo, the engineer brought glad tidings of great joy. The motor could be resurrected for a small fee. Angelo’s small was not Ma Shepherd’s. The gold, frankincense, and myrrh were returned. A refund graced her purse. Angelo was paid. On Christmas morning Ma Shepherd reminded her family that time spent together, memories made, and love were the only gifts that mattered.

The Strangest Invitation, by Ruby Lyn Norada

15/12/2023

It's unlike any he had ever seen before-- neither an invitation through a servant nor a missive from the king's herald.

Instead, celestial harmonies echoed, and a heavenly glow bathed the meadow.

Awe-struck and terrified, the young shepherd boy and his friends beheld angels proclaiming a wondrous birth, "Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace on earth to those with whom he is pleased!"

With trepidation, they journeyed to a humble manger. There, they found a young family, cradling an infant.

The shepherd boy marveled at the miracle, an invitation celebrated by the world for thousands of years.

Christmas Wish, by Colette Coen

15/12/2023

The writers huddled together, taking turns to throw their unfinished manuscripts onto the fire.
‘Will this work?’
‘It’s got to.’
‘Who are we summoning?’
‘Just trust in the process.’
They had heard it all before, trusted in the process, carried on writing through the long dark days.
As the fire died, the writers manifested their books: the bestseller, the thriller, the great romance.
When they awoke, Santa had left them each a book-shaped gift.
‘I knew he wouldn’t let us down.’
‘Now are dreams have come true.’
‘Let’s open them together.’
‘One two three’
‘Spare.’
‘Spare.’
‘Spare.’
Despair.

Under the Mistletoe, by Alyce Clark

14/12/2023

That first kiss under the mistletoe… she’ll never forget it.

Sixteen. Her best friend’s Christmas party. You know the crazy games teenagers play.

“I dare you!” Mia says.

“I triple dog dare you!” follows John.

They all laugh as Lily and Elijah take to the dance floor, and begin to Moonwalk.

While the others clap and cheer, her eyes fall on George.

Locking eyes with her, he walks over.

Her heart pounds as he looks up at the mistletoe dangling over her head.

She smiles. He leans in.

Their lips touch and there’s magic.

Forty years later, there still is.

The Baby-Gym with Lights, by Rosemary Johnson

14/12/2023

I bought the baby gym online. An arc-shaped bar with toys in primary colours dangling from it and lighting up when touched, this must be the perfect present for grandson Jamie.

On Christmas Day, we unwrapped it. Jamie, lying on a lambskin rug - Other Grandma’s gift - kicked his Babygro-clad legs in excitement as we set it up.

He stared. He hesitated. He smiled a smile (which wasn’t definitely wind). He reached up and biffed the toys with his chubby hand.

The toys rattled, plastic against plastic, but no lights.

Other Grandma smirked. “Doesn’t it need batteries?”

Even in 2023, by John M. Carlson

14/12/2023

Eric tried to sneak in, but his mom was waiting to pounce.

“How was the youth center Christmas party?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“I loved parties like that when I was your age! Aren’t you glad I insisted you go? But it would be more fun if you had a girlfriend. Don’t you want a girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

Eric bolted to his room. He was relieved the party was over. Although maybe it would have been fun with a date. He thought of Ben, who’d looked so handsome.

But even in 2023, Eric’s mom would never tolerate him dating another boy.

Christmas Time, by Phyllis Souza

14/12/2023

Children sang carols at the Happy Retirement Home. They saw a beautifully decorated Christmas tree in the lobby with lights and ornaments. There were empty gift boxes wrapped in festive paper and a couple of prancing reindeer underneath the tree. A group of elderly women, wearing red bows in their gray hair, were smiling and waving while some held baby dolls. Several men sat in rocking chairs draped in colorful shawls. They stared into space while others played cards.

Remember to enjoy every moment of Christmas Time in every stage of life.

In the Spirit of the Season, by Sandra James

14/12/2023

He’d loved her once but three young children and mundane responsibilities saw her depart for bright lights and a carefree existence.

She blew in periodically, broke hearts and promises, vowing ‘I’ll do better next time’, before disappearing again.

Christmas morning. ‘Mummy said she’d be here,’ said Lottie.

He held his breath, crossed his fingers.

She arrived hungover, in desperate need of coffee.

‘Did you bring us presents?’ asked Lottie, innocent eyes shining.

‘Ummm…’

‘Of course she did,’ he said, ‘they’re under the tree.’

He pointed to his own lovingly wrapped gifts, as the children hugged their mother.

Christmas in a Time Filled with Hope for the Future, by Mary Anne Mc Enery

14/12/2023

Caesar—a priest from Rome — celebrated mass that Christmas morning. As soon as he uttered the final “Amen”, we made a beeline for the fridge, seeking bottled water. In the compound, Ethiopian coffee brewed on top of a charcoal burner. We — international volunteers—drove Land Rovers to the escarpment, then descended to a picturesque waterfall and pool for a Christmas day swim. We lay on rocks sunning ourselves, and an American from Denver played Leonard Cohen songs on a guitar.
The dining room table was a masterpiece that evening. Smiles flashed from Kodaks and we toasted in our native tongues.

Regifting, by Elizabeth Allison

14/12/2023

“I know he’s not real.”

She nodded softly, guided two slumping shoulders down the hall and from under a frumpy bed produced a worn shoebox. His velvet hands removed wrinkled envelopes, and together they visited the time before.

Her boy blushed at his barely legible hopes, gaped at his youthful gluttony, and nodded at the restraint of his “later” years.

He returned to the box, snickering at the tuft of newborn hair and marveling at the tiny teeth, remnants of blood still caked inside.

Then he toddled to his room and carefully slid the box under a small tidy bed.

Small Things, by Tikvah Feinstein

14/12/2023

“Being old is what remains of a life I invented, touching past and present with erupting internal images, memories, and honoring the child I was who is the self, the truth, and fought to stay real through the war of maturing.”
“Why do you keep going?”
“You started out as a small thing, Granddaughter. It’s to see the first gold pear high up in a tree, a small thing, a prize to be gathered, because time is a gift. It’s small things that stir me to survive.”
“Why?”
“To be alive, to see the next small thing."

Christmas Eve Return, by Guy Fletcher

14/12/2023

It had been 15 years since she had struggled up this hill. She had left home in a whirlpool of vitriol but decided life was too short for animosity.

She thought of of the one-legged cat which used to roam this quiet suburban street and also the old man who stoically climbed it every day. Both would be long gone.

Christmas decorations adorned the houses as she approached her former home with trepidation. Her mother was talking to a neighbour and looked as though she had seen a spirit as she noticed her. In a way she had.

All a Good Marriage Needs is a Heart in Its Centre, by Mary Daurio

14/12/2023

I worried the crust—fit it into the pie pan. Rosy rhubarb stalks all measured ½ inch square, sugar, flour, top crust marked with an emblem. Baked at 350 degrees.
Served with a sweet smile, the pie sour and horse hoof-hard.
“You don’t have to eat it, Hun,” I said.
Hun chewed slowly, probably afraid of breaking a tooth. “It’s lovely, darling. The wee heart in the center says—made with love.”
He drew me in for a hug, sawed off another fork full and persisted. I never loved him more than in that moment. My defeat tasted like triumph.

The End of Another Year Begins, by Brian Maycock

14/12/2023

It’s been years since I’ve believed in anything other than being ground down a little more. The only new things are the next gas bill I can’t afford, another dodgy looking mole.

I have become the bitter person I said I would never be - as a child seeing the drawn faces of the adults around me. They were weighed down. I was free to soar.

Like the robin just glimpsed. Which makes my cold heart warm. And wonder if I should give hope another go.

Dangerous Swim Conditions, by Nicole Brogdon

14/12/2023

She’s the kind of woman who swims with alligators, naked. Drawn to long snouts, sleepy, Midori green faces, and biting teeth, on limbs. She lost much to these toothsome creatures—money, self-respect, legs. And that mid sized cottage.
When we were roommates, I heard her through the wall, thrashing and moaning, some beast’s massive tail smacking the wall while they copulated. I banged on the sheetrock. “Trying to sleep!” Giggles. They were at it again, tearing up the sheets. Later, the reptile slithered down the hall and out.
Years later, she’s just a torso with a lined, pretty face.

Retirement, by Nicole Brogdon

14/12/2023

Santa groans, wiggling his girth into the chimney, sciatica throbbing down his stout leg. Yesterday, two elves worked him over in physical therapy, each, pulling a limb.
Now he plops down a sooty chimney. Under a blue-lit tree, hardened twins with slingshots shoot a chestnut at his beard.
“Sociopaths!” Santa yells. Children aren’t kind anymore—their lists, long, technical, and expensive. He drops lumps of coal like turds from his backpack. “Ho ho,” he growls, hurling himself up the chimney. The little monsters tug his ankles. Santa kicks, propelling upward, hip popping painfully, retirement glowing like a North Star.

Carol’s at Christmas, by Scott Rhodie

14/12/2023

Twenty-fourth of December, and the decorations appeared. Christmas cheer exuded from every window of the large house. Loud and proud.

Her nursing career meant everything, but the boyfriend, dogs, and a wearisome lifestyle didn’t.

The house was worth it, though.

After Christmas, she cleared everything of note away. The twelve day Christian instruction ignored.

She left with no goodbyes, but the positioning of her idea of love sat around the big table. With vacant eyes, they’d enjoy spectacular views through stunning rear windows for eternity.

New pastures and new friends beckoned.

Wisconsin called, and Christmas carols would return.

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