Four delightful Christmas stories to read by the fire.
If you're looking for a bit of humor with the Grinch of Christmas, a shocking sister rivalry in a Christmas eve reunion, or a coming-of-age romance here is a collection of delightful short stories to put you in the Christmas spirit.
Four short stories to brighten your Christmas season. Ole Mr. Scrooge is as grumpy as a bear who's been waken from his winter nap. Get ready for a good chuckle. Then there's the Upton sisters who can barely say a decent word to each other. Boy are they in for a surprise. We all love a coming of age story. This one takes us into the lives of Merrily and Nicholas who were born Christmas day in the same hospital. They grow up together and fall in love. It seems a fairy tale, but there's a scrooge in their midst. Story number four is an excerpt from my novel SEPTEMBER WIND.
Excerpt
Some may think I hate Christmas. It’s not that I hate it, I just don’t think about it. I don’t know what all the fuss is about, anyways. If others want to waste their time and money celebrating what most kids believe is all about them and Santa, well, that’s their prerogative. Leave me out of it.
Take the Moser twins next door, Luke and Lars. Those two are scoundrels eleven months out of the year doing everything possible to torment anyone who looks vulnerable. They’ll throw rocks at flying birds, knock down their nests, or tie string over the sidewalk hoping to catch a good laugh when someone trips. And you’d better hope to God your cat never wanders across to their yard. Of course, soon as Christmas rolls around, they’ll put on those toothy grins and act like the angels have been dancing around their heads all year long. I say rats to them.
This house has been in the family since the late 1800’s. I’ve lived here for ninety-three years of it. It may seem hard to envision right now, but once I was the baby of the family born as an afterthought in the same bedroom where I sleep now. This ole place may look a little rough around the edges, like me, but it’s a fine solid house. My sister and brother were in their late twenties when I was born, and not around long enough to even spoil me. Everyone’s gone now and there’s no sense hashing over details since the best thing for me is to keep the past where it belongs.
I’m fully aware there are people trying to put me in the convalescent home that sits a few blocks up the street. Ha! They’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming before that happens. If you were to visit these parts it wouldn’t be long before someone mentions Ole Scrooge down on Elm Street. That’s me, that’s what they call me. And don’t bother asking me if I give a rip, cause I don’t.
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