Drabble Wednesday: Christmas Fun

Today on Drabble Wednesday I celebrate the Christmas season… strangely. I have some new drabbles and two old favourites of mine. Enjoy, and Happy Holidays!

The Tree

Every year.

Every year they erect the garish, smelly thing.

With its scent of evergreen assaulting my nose, and its blinking lights disturbing nap time. Not to mention it’s a giant scratching post. And those dangly ornaments.

It’s like they dare me.

It’s not as if they tuck it in corner. No, it’s in the MIDDLE OF THE ROOM. IN THE WAY. What am I supposed to do, walk around the monstrosity?

I think not.

So why do they get mad when I pounce? Oh, the language I hear.

Truly, it’s their fault.

What else is a cat to do?

~*~

Naughty List

Cheesecake and Snickerdoodle waited in the shadow of the Christmas tree, tails wagging in anticipation. The two terriers knew Santa was coming; their namesake treats lay on a plate next to a tall glass of milk. They missed their shot last year, falling asleep too soon, but this year would be different.

Yes, this year had success written all over it, and a place in the dog hall of fame. They’d sink their chompers into Santa, maybe get a piece of Santa’s rump, complete with a velvet souvenir.

They both knew it would be epic. Even better than the postman.

~*~

Christmas Wars

Jingles the reindeer found the crumpled corpse under the Christmas tree, missing a hand. He pawed the body, but it was too late.

“Why? Why? Who would do this awful thing to the Elf on the Shelf?”

“A great disturbance, I sense.”

A tiny wizened green creature appeared from beneath the holiday foliage. In his hands he carried the Elf’s missing appendage and a shiny cylindrical object. He stared at the deceased Elf.

“Teaching him, I was. Listen, he did not. Defeated not the enemy, failed did he.”

A laugh rang out. “He underestimated the power of the dark side.”

~*~

A Fairy Tale Christmas Story

Once upon a time, far from the land of BB guns, there was me, Rutherford B. Hasenpheffer, and like all boys (aged 6-12) I had a Christmas wish. I wanted a dragon (yes, you heard me, a dragon). One legendary, fire-breathing, winged lizard.

I badgered my parents night and day for a year, following them around the castle, begging for a dragon.

“No,” they said. Repeatedly. Consistently.

But I persisted, until somewhere around November they relented. So I found a baby dragon under the Christmas tree.

The only problem—the darn beast burned down the castle and now we’re homeless.

~*~

Christmas Eve

Lights glow from the Christmas tree, softly reflecting through the windowpane frost. The faint scent of pine and undertone hints of mulled wine imbue the room.  Ribbons and bows and papered packages await the morning, while from somewhere above a snore or two drifts downstairs.

Everyone sleeps, pretty dreams and wonders in their heads, waiting in slumber for the morrow.  All is calm and quiet. At least inside. If you listen, really listen, while as the snowflakes fall outside, you can hear. Sprinkled with the moonlight, there’s the jingling of bells and jolly laughter with a hearty, ho, ho, ho…

© A. F. Stewart 2015 All Rights Reserved

Welcome Christmas Lites V!

For a couple of years now, I've been lucky enough to be an annual contributor to the fabulous Christmas Lites charity anthologies and I'm happy to say that I'm participating again this year.
And now the book is here!

So with no further ado, I present...

Christmas Lites V

Tis the season to celebrate, to love, to dream, to hope. Unfortunately, many people have lost almost everything they have – including hope in this most festive and beautiful of times. Across the globe, authors, illustrators, and artists of all sorts have come together in the anthology you now hold in your hands with one goal in mind. To give hope. To spread love. To give people a chance to dream again.

Christmas Lites V is a special anthology. Every dime raised goes directly to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV). Not a single person who worked on this book or donated their time and their art form to it receives anything from it, other than the knowledge that he/she is making a difference in those affected by domestic violence.

Inside these pages are stories of all genres—Romance, fantasy, horror, action, children’s stories, stories written BY children. Please, dive inside, read, laugh, and spread the love and joy.

The book is available at:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Amazon Canada

Createspace

Stories and authors included in this anthology are:

A Tale of Two Urchins by A. F. Stewart

Accidentally Courted by Tricia Kristufek 

Undead Christmas by D.T. Dyllin 

Christmas in July by William Gent 

Riley’s Christmas by Ottilie Weber 

Mini-Folder by S.L. Garrett 

Santa’s Unexpected Helper by JB Lynn 

A Christmas Tail by JG Faherty 

The Krampus Tree by Douglas Wynne 

Homicide by Phil Cantrill 

Love of a Lifetime by Angela Yuriko Smith 

Christmas under the Canopy by Amy Eye 

Daniel’s Gift by Monica La Porta 

Devour by Tiffany by Michelle Brown 

The Gift by J. A. Clement 

Mrs. Knight’s Honeymoon by Vered Ehsani 

Baby Jesus by Rachel Reese 

The Masquerade by Frank W. Smith 

Keeping Christmas by Alana Lorens 

The Den by S. Patrick Pothier 

Ulysses II by Dani J Caile 

A Monster Miracle by Brandon Eye 

Blinky Goes Home by Annabelle Kristufek 

A great line up, right? My story in the book, A Tale of Two Urchins, is a bit of a fanciful fairy tale about two orphans, Santa, and Krampus. I think of it as a mix of Dickens and Hansel and Gretel, tied together with a ribbon of dark humour and a touch of whimsy. (You can also find my stories in Christmas Lites III and IV and proceeds from every book in the series go to National Coalition Against Domestic Violence.)

Book Spotlight - Zephaniah: A Horror Novella

Today I'm spotlighting a tale of paranormal horror with the novella Zephaniah by Adam McVeigh. There's also a short excerpt so read on and enjoy...

Zephaniah: A Horror Novella by Adam McVeigh

Christmas nineteen ninety-five: a physics teacher takes his family on holiday to the snow-covered village of Gwennal, in Cornwall. When his five-year-old daughter tells him that she has seen Santa Claus, unwelcome and chilling events begin to plague the family’s stay at their seventeenth-century cottage. His choice of accommodation is further brought into question when his wife suffers a series of mind-bending paranormal horrors. Firmly believing scientific explanation, he suspects that she has relapsed to her abuse of prescription painkillers. Until, that is, the comfort blanket of science becomes an instrument of torture when staff at a local museum reveal more than he can bare to discover.

You can find Zephaniah at:

Amazon (US)

Amazon (UK)

Goodreads

Book Excerpt: 

   From behind Sarah, the worn-leather boots of Zephaniah had crushed the frost and ice beneath them as he marched past, just inches from her paralysed body.
He stopped beside the slaughtered flesh.
   With only moonlight to guide her eyes through the shadows that swamped the world around her, Sarah recognised his long, thick woollen cloak and his unkempt beard that fell to his chest as though he vomited worms; she recognised his movements, his steps and the dread that seeped from his very presence.
   He snatched at the feet of the corpse. A gloved fist locked around each ankle as though trying to choke the last desperate screams of life from them. He then raised the legs and dragged with the ease of a man wheeling a barrow.
The blooded torso thudded and slapped on the sculptured stone of Chapel Cottage’s front step, before being swallowed inside the darkness of the doorway.
Sarah looked on. She could do nothing else. The illuminated cottage in front of her began to fade under a pitch-black darkness. It was washing over the street, indiscriminately covering everything under the crashing black wave as the moon’s light died.
   She stood in complete darkness. There was no breeze to pull her hair. Her feet were no longer stuck to cobbles laced with ice, they were resting on the hard wooden surface of floorboards, cushioned by a layer of dust and grime.

Author Bio: 

Adam McVeigh lives in South Lincolnshire, England. His first book, Keep Off The Grass, a narrative non fiction account of his time as a community and political campaigner, was released as an independently published paperback in January 2015. His fictional works are primarily psychological and paranormal horrors that are inspired by real life events and scenarios, including recent titles: Polly, and The Hanging Bridge. Both are short, quick read stories that form a ten volume collection due for publication in 2016.

Author Website:  http://adammcveigh.com

Drabble Wednesday: Christmas Eve

Here’s the Christmas Eve edition of Drabble Wednesday, with three holiday stories full of wacky Christmas cheer…

Santa Got Pulled Over By A Policeman

(In Canada)

A red and white blur sped past the cop in the parked cruiser. The officer plunked his Tim Horton’s coffee in the cup holder, flicked on the lights and sirens, and gave chase to the speeder. Within minutes, he had the offender pulled over.

“You know you were going 70 in a 50 kilometre zone, right?”

“Ho, ho, ho!”

“Plus, I’ll have to write you a citation for operating, uh, a sleigh without a valid license.”

“Ho, ho, ho! Oh no!”

"And I’m going to have to give that—that reindeer with the red nose a breathalyser test.”

“Merry Christmas!”

Christmas Wars

Jingles the reindeer found the crumpled corpse under the Christmas tree, missing a hand. He pawed the body, but it was too late.

“Why? Why? Who would do this awful thing to the Elf on the Shelf?”

“A great disturbance, I sense.”

A tiny wizened green creature appeared from beneath the holiday foliage. In his hands he carried the Elf’s missing appendage and a shiny cylindrical object. He stared at the deceased Elf.

“Teaching him, I was. Listen, he did not.  Defeated not the enemy, failed did he.”

A laugh rang out. “He underestimated the power of the dark side.”

The Magic of Gifting

I nudged the wrapped gift with my toe, half expecting something to pop out. You might think that’s paranoid, but after the gerbil incident I don’t trust strange presents left on my doorstep. Especially when they’re packaged in snowman paper and topped with frilly pink bows. I thought about leaving it, but that might endanger the neighbourhood.

I lifted it gingerly by the gaudy bow, carried it indoors and opened it carefully, the fire extinguisher handy.  I gasped. Inside lay a hideous rubber chicken.

He wouldn't. Not the Fiendish Chicken of Severus Snape.

Drat Harry Potter and his Christmas pranks.

Note:

Unfortunately, no one entered last week’s contest to win a free book, 

so I have no winners to announce.

Steampunk Santa

A short Christmas Eve tale...

Steampunk Santa

Once Upon a Christmas Eve, way up at the North Pole, nestled in the snow, sprawled Santa’s Village. Now if you think, from all the sweet tales that have been spun, that this place was a place of dreams, made of gingerbread and sugar plums, you would be wrong.

No, the settlement that housed Old St. Nick and his industrious band of elves was a home of iron and clockwork, of brass and gears, with the hiss of steam and the clash of metal echoing through its halls. Yes, that’s right, 'twas a Steampunk Night Before Christmas.

There’s the toy factory, with its assembly lines of workers, run by giant cogs and gears and pulleys, and a sputtering, puffing engine -fed by coal- powering the whole works. The elves wear goggles, leather gloves and aprons, over natty suits, clanging and banging as they make the toys.

Outside is Santa’s sleigh, packed with those playthings, belching smoke and vapour from its pipes and valves. The air is alive with its noise, a droning snarl announcing its presence as the coal-powered engine produces steam and fires on all pistons. In front are harnessed the reindeer, all nine wondrous beasts of iron, marvels of mechanized automatons. From Prancer to Rudolph with his illuminated nose, they stand eager to fly, rocket packs at the ready.

And here comes St. Nick, dressed in red leather and black boots, his long coat sweeping the top of the snow. His goggles are perched atop his head, his pipe in mouth, and his pistol on his hip. He climbs in his sleigh and snaps the reins. With a grind of gears and a roar of flame they are away into flight.

Merry Christmas to All and to All a Good Night!