A short Christmas story

Prologue- My Story:

Hi there; my name is Elliot and this is my story. Up until one month ago I lived in foster care since I was two years old, after my parents tragically passed away to an unknown cause, or so I was told. They could have just abandoned me, I guess I’ll never know.

Anyway, on with the story. So, I was passed around from family to family and during this time I did come across a few lovely and loving people, although this was very rare, usually it’s just the odd alcoholic lucking to make a bit of dosh out of taking care of me. I know, heart-breaking stuff, right?

I was losing hope to be honest but one month ago today I was rescued by the most caring and wonderful people in the world, the McAlister’s and this is my first proper Christmas, finally at home. 

1st December-8:00am

What’s an advent calendar? This is a question I didn’t know the answer too until this morning when Mr and Mrs McAlister, my new mum and dad, gifted me with a strange rectangle with little doors marked with numbers 1-24 and told me that every day I open one of the doors, eat the chocolate and read the little story!

The chocolate was so scrumptious and I am in utter awe that I am a member of such a loving family and now this! I can already tell this is going to be the best Christmas ever!

4th December-3:00pm

Today I was asked to write a wish list for Santa Clause (of course I already knew who he was) but I found it very difficult as I already have everything that I have ever wanted now! I came up with one thing, a bike. For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted one of these and to get the chance to ride it with my new dad would be such a dream come true!

6th December-7:00pm

My first ever Christmas tree! Dad, Mum and I decorated the house for Christmas today and it is honestly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen! I even got some bedding adorned with little Santa’s and reindeers to put on my bed!

24th December-9:00pm

Mum, Dad and I put some carrots (for the reindeer), mince pies and milk out for Santa! I am so excited! I cannot get to sleep! Mum said to count sheep but I don’t think that’s helping much. 

25th December-7:30am

I am lost for words. This morning, I woke up to my very own bike rapped up neatly in paper. All my prayers have been answered. I am the luckiest boy in the world.

A Visit from Santa Claus

A deep, tranquil sleep was interrupted by the brief chime of high-pitched jingle bells. Young Kourtney woke up at exactly 2.35 in the morning, puzzled after being awoken so early in the morning.

Her room was silent, apart from the odd creak in the floor board, not a single living thing was awake. She took a swift glance at the now frosted glass windows to see fresh, crisp snow showering the winter ground. Glaciers of sharp ice protruded at the thin windows conveying a polar ambience.

Kourtney was 7 years old, a perfect age to develop her impertinent side – so her presumptuous side over took her.

She slowly departed her toasty quilt to be met with a cold, wintery gust of air. After making it four steps on her ancient wooden floor she heard a massive creaking noise reverberate through the house. She continued down her staircase – the banister covered in festive wreaths and vibrant red bows. However, the same sound interrupted her again, the same rapid bells.

Before she could turn her perplexed gaze over to the living room, her eyes were met with a figure; but that was no ordinary figure. Oh no, this was a red figure with a white great beard. Her heart went through the rood for a second as she was coming to terms with her speechless discovery. Santa Claus slowly walked over the immense tree filled with colourful, glistening baubles. He knelt down on one knee and placed a colossal gift under the tree. The present was covered in flamboyant, prismatic ribbons and a gigantic bow on top. She thought to herself about how magnificent it was, but in the blink of an eye he was gone…

She rushed to the window to take a peek and sure enough she heard a faint ‘ho, ho, ho’ and a gold sleigh soaring through the astral, luminous sky.

The Feeling of Christmas

I will always remember the feeling I get

At my favourite time of the year

when the jingling of sleigh bells fills the air

and the promise of presents becomes near.

I will always remember putting up the tree

With baubles of silver and red and gold.

Singing our loudest to Christmas songs

And listening to stories being told.

I will always remember the feeling you get

when you wake up and remember its Christmas day

going and waking the parents up

dreaming of the snowball fights we could play.

I will always remember opening presents

With pleasant surprise inside.

Remembering the long wait is finally over

Like the end of a rollercoaster ride.

I will always remember the smell of the kitchen

turkey, pine needles and mince pies.

Everyone full but happy

In their glittery dresses and ties.

I will always remember the feeling of Christmas

The pain behind the present

Christmas, a jolly time-

The pinnacle of the year!

But it takes a few years off my life,

Bringing about such cheer.

One of the elves tripped and fell,

And is seeking compensation-

I was sighted on a roof,

And I have no explanation!

The sleigh’s run out of petrol,

And Rudolph booked time off!

And living in the North Pole,

It’s caused a nasty cough.

I ate one too many mince pies,

Now my suit’s buttons came away-

But still, I must deliver

The joys of Christmas day…

Who thought it was a good idea

To keep the chimney lit?

I clambered down and down and now…

An icepack’s where I sit…

But still, I march (or fly) on,

To bring their Christmas cheer,

Because honestly- they need it,

After these past years.

We’ve all done some adjusting,

Let’s hope hard times are gone,

But still, I wake and ignore my aches,

For the people who trooped on.

So, as I see happy children,

With a smile on their face,

I think maybe… It was worth it,

In the first place.

Start of December

Christmas is near

Wherever you go

You’re filled with cheer

Put up the tree

Get ready for fun

But this advent

It’s for God’s son

Christmas Eve

Snow will fall

In the corner of the room

The tree stands tall

Lights all over

It’s so bright

Let’s not forget

Its Christmas night

Christmas is here

Open the presents

We’re that happy

We look like pheasants

Just today

Jesus was born

And all our bad memories

Have been torn

End of the month

What a sad time

But it’s not too bad

No need to whine

Walking along the dimly lit streets, the glow from the windows of the closed shops lined the street as owners changed the displays in the windows. The faint sound of a saxophone whispered in my ear and my tired feet followed the melancholy tune as I stumbled over the paving. I reach the doorframe of a bar where the tuneful sounds originated. I was almost enchanted by the smells of alcohol and smoke and the dim yellow hue of the small lamps on tables. The music became louder as I moved closer and closer to the stage where two men were sat playing music. One man was holding a polished golden saxophone which glinted in the low light as the man’s face puffed up and blew musical noted from his small piece of sheet music out into the solemn bar. His partner by his side singing stories from the bottom of his heart while his fingers brushed the ivory keys. Turning back to the bar I trudge up and place myself on a stool and let out a deep sigh as my hands meet each other on the counter in front of me. A light “what can I get for you son?”, echoed through a bartenders mouth as she walked towards me on the other side of the bar. “Something strong,” I reply as I slide a few notes across, towards her. “Coming right up,” she smiled back at me as she started to make my drink with different glass bottles that let out a small ‘clink’ as she put them down onto the counter. As I look around see the other people here, everyone is calm amongst the light chatter and music that was dancing through the hues of table lamps. Smoke that was blown from peoples mouths fills the air and floats around the room with a spicy scent that fills my lungs. A glass is handed to me as well as some copper coins that make a noise as they bounce against the table. Still, everyone is calm and yet cheerful, the atmosphere is slow yet flowing as the rhythm coming from the stage goes through everyone like electricity. There is no worries of prejudice or oppression here, and through the smoke and the bitter taste of my drink I can sense a small bit of pride and proudness beating through peoples conversations.

And another excellent piece of descriptive writing:

A melancholy tune echoed through the cobble-stoned path of Lennox Avenue, the only sound that filled the Harlem Renaissance. The trees danced with me as I strolled towards the muffled music of blues. As the music grew louder, the moon-lit road seemed to shine, glistening for the joy to hear a drowsy, syncopated tune. I followed the sound ‘till my feet came to a halt at a drained parlour. My hand reached for the stained glass of the red-coated door, which felt like a portal to us.

A scent of seasoned monkey-nuts and homemade moonshine ran to my nose as the muffled tune became a clear song. Mellow empty stools sat at the bar, covered in peanut shells and cigarette ashes. The life-less waiter stood behind the island stripped from its paint, it’s years of laughter gone. “Could I get you anything?” she asked working her last shift. I shook my head and she continued to wipe the grim off the glasses with the tip of her apron. The dust was visible against the dim light of the parlour, I stared at the floor saddened by the atmosphere, until I remembered why I was there.

I turned to see an elongated man wearing a ragged suit who lazily swayed on a rickety stool. The only light was an old gas lamp which flickered barely, the glow giving dim colour to his face. His ebony hands played singular chords on the ivory keys with his foot tapping like bass. “Ain’t nobody in this world, ain’t got nobody but myself” the man mumbled, head bowed. The ancient piano moaned with every key, becoming more and more distorted.

A Woman’s World

People will say,

‘Not all men’

But it isn’t all sharks,

And we are still afraid of all of them.

We were taught to trust the police,

He was meant to be her protector,

But instead,

He was her predator.

The excuse is always,

That it’s down to lack of education.

But there is a serious issue,

When people see cotton as an invitation.

No, means no.

Yes, means yes.

Yet people will say,

Well, she shouldn’t have worn that dress.

It’s always their fault,

When it wasn’t their desire

And each time it happens,

The statistics get higher.

It’s not a matter of age,

Nor a matter of clothing

It’s a matter of consent.

And a matter that people need to stop condoning.

If it was your sister

Or if it was your mother.

This would be a topic,

You would choose to cover.

There are some good ones,

But why would we want to wait,

And find out,

If they are the one in eight.

That’s life

Some of us must stay at home

And not go out the door;

Some of us are working

Like we’ve never worked before.

Some of us are falling out

With siblings, Dads, and Mothers,

Some of us are reaching out

And looking after others.

Some of us are keeping busy

Doing lots of jobs;

Some of us have given up

We’re turning into slobs!

Some of us feel positive

And think that we’re in charge,

Some of us feel anxious

And fear the world at large.

Some of us have footpaths

To cycle, walk, and jog,

Some of us have nowhere nice

To even walk the dog.

All of us can choose to spend

Our days in fear and dread…

BUT All of us can choose to plan

For better days ahead.

I chose to start each first line and third line of the first four stanzas with “some of us” as I believe it is important to include the many ways a lot of us have experienced lockdown and how those different experiences can affect our thoughts and actions. I changed this in the last stanza however, because I wanted to make the idea that we can “all” change our perspective on what’s going on in these current times, which is why I put emphasis on the word “but”. I also decided to change the rhyming scheme throughout the stanzas as to resemble the break in routines and what each of us consider to be normal that we have all gone through.

The beauty of age radiated from the elegant structure that proudly stood before me, surrounded by an endless amount of emerald leaves and sage fields. Vast, the sapphire sky gently lit the pearl castle, the golden sun casting shadows on parts, retaining all secrets hidden within the towering, formidable walls of the castle. The trees swallowed the castle, keeping all opposing forces from entering and revealing all secrets.

Indistinct: vague: mysterious. An eerie figure loomed in the darkness; a crow cawed and the harmonising howl of the wolves echoed through the empty ruins, mocking all of the cowering animals. From the timid rabbits to the ferocious bear, they all felt unnerved, not knowing what was happening, but the sense of impending doom overhung. The forest was on edge, waiting for the pin to drop, for their worlds to come tumbling down, but all that came was darkness.

The weak light of the full moon gently shone down on the castle, highlighting all of its imperfections that made it so beautiful. A cold eerie mist covered the ground below, hiding it away, out of sight for no one to see. The cracked window shone, when the moonlight hit it, making all nearby aware of its prominence, its resistance to the weather that had destroyed many others.  

Located centrally amid the vast, emerald landscape, an exterior of history stood proud radiating curiosity, walls crafted by impenetrable graphite brick, enclosing whatever may situate within. Scattered across the exterior, windows granted access to beams of scorching sunlight and to those within, a beautiful view of the scenery. Sandstone turrets acted as a pedestal to the eagle that perched upon it, its intimidating, golden eyes scanned the greenery searching for what would become his next appetizing victim. Uncontrollable heaps of vines crept up the walls of the building acting as a protector to the secrets the castle withheld. The blanket of comforting blue was home to bundles of clouds creating a calming atmosphere for the innocent wildlife roaming the lively forests.

Luscious grass created an entryway to explore the extensive landscape filled with numerous varieties of trees. Some towering and proud, created an inkling of superiority on their behalf. Some crouched, slumped almost tired looking. Barks thick and rugged from age. Enveloping the castle, they were like an army with duties to keep this place hidden to those whose present may be unwanted. A rabbit roamed freely and innocently paws frolicking across the grass: no idea of the danger it would soon face.

Minute windows gave a slight insight to the interior. Upon the window ledge the eagle now stood, knife-like claws creating an imprint in the dense structure. A glimmer of sunlight reflected off the gorgeous stained glass windows that withheld the beauty of age. Cobwebs formed in corners of the frame and intricate cracks became detectable.