(Photo: Jim Moore)
He now possesses
Every want:
A hat, a sweet
Face coat.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Possess in 11 words
All Wants
Holidays
Elfie’s Solution
“Not every elf can be on a shelf.”
Elfie heard this all his life. From his teachers at the Santa Academy. From his parents, Elfonso and Elfinia. From his judgy Aunt Elfisia. And now from his insufferable brother Elfonso Junior (who everyone called EJ), who just had to rub in the fact that he had gotten into the EFS (Elves For Shelves) program, while Elfie did not.
“But what if I want to be an elf on a shelf?” Elfie protested.
“It’s not about what you want,” his mother scolded. “It is about your Efltitude Score.”
“…and,” EJ added with an elfin smirk, “as we all know, you don’t quite measure up.”
If it weren’t for his mother’s presence, Elfie would have tossed EJ under a reindeer.
Thinking of reindeer. And reins … gave him an idea.
No shelf? No problem.
He’d hang out as an elf by himself.
For Crispina‘s Crimson’s Creative Challenge
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The Great Loss
“Did Great-Grandpa really fight in the Great War?”
“He did.”
“What made it great, Mama?”
She sighed. This place’s heaviness only settled thicker during the holidays. She’d come every year on Christmas as a child. Too infrequently since. The ocean’s breeze whipped hair into the boy’s eyes and she tucked a lock behind his ear. He so reminded her of herself.
“Grandma Rose said it was because the Heavens everywhere lit with the great number of souls and broken hearts. The Great Loss, she called it.”
“A lot of Christmas angels, Mama?”
“Perhaps so.”
“I think Great-Grandpa is one, though.”
Note: Dedicated to all who are missing loved ones during the holidays, to all who are no longer with us for they’d given their lives (or parts of their souls) for others, in search of peace, in hope of no more war or hate or greed. May we do better, as a species. Let there be true peace on Earth.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
(Thank you Sandra Cook for the evocative photo prompt!)
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Oh, The Mistletoe
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Oh, there’s the mistletoe,
The berries
Over green.
The holidays
In olden faiths
Remembered,
Veiled, still seen.
Oh, in the mistletoe,
The Druid,
Norse,
The Greek,
For strength of
Loins,
And sacrifice
For friendship, love
And peace.
Oh, in the mistletoe
A medicine
A kiss.
May it bring
Your heart
Only the best
Of all of
This.
For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Holidays
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No Longer Cold
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
It had stared
Though the window
At the clothed
Indoor tree
Wrapped in tinsel
And glory,
Gifts at its feet,
Stars on its crown.
And it shivered,
Naked,
In the cold.
All leaves long gone.
“This tree is naked,”
A child stopped,
Compared,
Bemoaned.
“It is too cold.”
Not anymore, Child,
Not anymore.
Note: I took this photo earlier today in New York City, as I walked past this brownstone’s holiday decorations. This post is dedicated to all who are outside, looking in. May you be seen. May you be clothed. May you be known. May you no longer be cold.
Also, for the new Monday Window challenge
And an extra tag for Frank’s Tuesday Photo Challenge of: Holidays
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Walk The Line
“He’s never going to make it,” Benji declared.
Shelly shrugged. “I think he can.”
Benji twitched in irritation. “Mark my words. He’s never gonna make it. Not after all the eggnog he’d snagged.”
Shelly sniffed. Eggnog? There was eggnog? He wanted some!
Tilly wriggled between them and squeezed herself onto the couch. “What’cha doing?”
“Nothing.” Benji huffed.
“Ignore Benji, Sis, he’s just being his grouchy self.” Shelly scooted over a bit to make room for their sibling, who was younger by whole two minutes and by that officially the baby. Well, till the next babies had arrived.
“What is he doing down there?” Tilly squeaked. “If Mama sees him on the floor in the middle of the living room he is toast!”
“He’s trying to walk the line to the other side,” Shelly explained. Toast? Why’d she have to mention toast? Now he wanted toast.
“He’s walking funny,” Tilly noted.
“Of course he is. He’s drunk.” Benji muttered. “Now hush.”
“Sorry, Benji,” Tilly demurred, but true to form could barely keep herself still for half a second. “His tail is droopy. It is all in the tail, you know. He can’t keep to the line if his back-end is all draggy. Hey, Giddy,” she called, her whiskers trembling in excitement, “you can do it! lift your tail! It’ll give you better balance! It’s my turn next!”
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Season Of Light
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Till time alights
To set things right
May last year’s light
Fill this year’s nights.
For the Sunday Stills challenge: Holiday Decor
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Merry Berry
Photo: Na’ama Yehuda
Wishing you a joy
So merry
Under mistletoe’s
Red berries,
And a sparkle
In your heart
As holidays
A cheer impart.
Merry Christmas to all who celebrate it!
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Blush Blessing
Photo: Atara Katz
May your day be lit
By sun
And new grown things
On path to home
And love within.
May the closing year
Bring calm
And blushing joy
And flowered hope
For what begins.
For Sunday Stills: Something Red
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The Best Tradition
Photo: R. Yehuda
The doorbell rings
The gate stays open
As they trickle, stream, come in.
Sisters, brothers, nieces, cousins,
Nephews, parents, aunts and uncles,
And new additions to the scene.
Candles lit and babies cuddled,
In the kitchen tied-up aprons swirl
As busy hands ready cuisine.
A phone is passed:
A distant caller
Hellos each loved one from the screen.
The rooms are filled
The hearts are fuller.
Another year of treasured family din.
For the Sunday Stills Challenge: Traditions
