Stories about Christmas. See also Christmas Eve, Christmas pageant, and Christmas trees.
“Humbug” was Marissa’s matter-of-fact reply to the carol singers that evening. She was particularly pleased with her idea to pour humbug sweets from the bedroom window, akin to hot oil in old castle sieges. It had added an extra dimension… Continue Reading
Matthew and John met under the Fourth Street bridge as they often did. But this was no ordinary meeting. Tonight was a special occasion. Each man carried a cardboard box under his arm which had been wrapped up in great… Continue Reading
Scrooge removed a shilling from his purse. “Thank you for making sure my old friend Jacob rests in peace,” he said, handing the coin to the sexton. “Very generous, guv,” said the gravedigger. “And a Merry Christmas to you.” Returning… Continue Reading
Damian lowers the kickstand of his red Schwinn in front of the Italian Club on the corner of Sixth and Cavitt. “You look like one of the Delfeany boys. Your old man’s in the club.” Mr. Lenski pats Damian on… Continue Reading
He’d wondered, when he started the job, why he needed a belt with so many holes. Now he knew — it fitted around him twice and felt like it needed tightening again. It took months to visit every home in… Continue Reading
Jim Cooper braced himself for another show of Christmas cheer. “How ya doin’? Getting together with the family? We’ve got Christmas Eve supper, breakfast with Santa, brunch at the Club, dinner with the clan, caroling, open house, a tree trimming… Continue Reading
The winter air ached in her throat. She pulled her scarf tighter and wished for more functional gloves. He had said these ones were delicate just like her. Leather with long barely-lined fingers. She bent them at the knuckle. “Are… Continue Reading
Bob hated Christmas. It brought to mind memories of when his parents fought, usually after a long night of spiked eggnog. While his parents’ quarreling was far in the past, Bob still found the forced merriment of holidays unbearable. If… Continue Reading
Becca and Carl, Becca’s second husband, were in town. Tammy and I lived in Brentwood then with three children: Two from Tammy’s previous marriage and our own feral three-year-old. Tammy used to call Carl a bottomless pit of whiskey. She… Continue Reading
I loved Christmas lights till I knew better. Loved to look out my kitchen window, down the hill, and see the lights twinkling, sparkling, lines going off and on, leading the eye in complicated cuneiform, punctuated with glowing candles and… Continue Reading