Cindy and I were watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation last week, and the theme song really drove home that it is "that time of year."
Many of our neighbors started decorating their yards and houses much earlier than "usual." We usually hold off until the day after Thanksgiving, but I don't begrudge anyone who chooses a different time to start the festivities.
Once again, we find ourselves in the holiday season, hopefully enjoying all the Christmas treats that pop up this time of year. Did someone say "treats?" Why yes, I did, like right here. It's also time for that wonderful treat called Advent Fiction, which my friend Loren Eaton hosts on his website each year. I always look forward to this, both from the challenge of writing and the sheer enjoyment of reading some absolutely brilliant work by other writers. The challenge is to write a short fiction of exactly 100 words, no more, no less. The title is excluded from this requirement.
“You’ll do just fine,
dear, trust me.”
Holly glanced at her
vocal coach. “I hope so. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”
“Nonsense! You’re
ready, now go out there and give ‘em your best.”
And she did exactly that.
Holly’s renditions of Somewhere
in My Memory and Where Are You Christmas moved many of the audience to
tears.
A thunderous applause.
“Thank you. I dedicate
tonight’s performance to my late mentor, Mrs. Patterson. This will be her first
heavenly Christmas, and I already miss her.”
Holly bowed to the
audience and bowed backstage to someone only she could see.
Let it Woe, Let it Woe, Let it Woe!
I never knew there would
be more than just one. Seriously, how could I (or anyone) have known?
Our first clue should’ve
been when Santa was almost assassinated in Oregon last year. That, and the cult
in Florida that found the strange box in the swamp and… opened it.
Headlines from primary
news sources sounded more like the tabloids than mainstream media.
I believe it now,
especially since “they” have taken over and demanded we all bear witness to
their power.
Woe be unto anyone who
misses even a single nightly parade.
Not just one Krampus, but
hundreds of them!
“Grandma Rose” loved
everything about Christmas. Everything! She was especially fond of her
childhood Christmas memories and loved telling her family and friends lots of
stories.
Today was no different,
and she regaled her audience with tales of Christmas mornings with her young
children and the traditions they had. She even sang her favorite Christmas
carols to her audience.
“Hi Grandma, Merry
Christmas! Grandma? Can you hear me ok?”
Evvie looked at her daughter.
“Mamma might not respond, but I’m sure she hears you.”
Grandma Rose sat
peacefully in her wheelchair, silent, staring at nothing and everything. Merry
Christmas, child.
