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    The December Awethology: Light Volume
    The December Awethology: Light Volume
    The December Awethology: Light Volume
    Ebook146 pages1 hour

    The December Awethology: Light Volume

    By The Awethors

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    About this ebook

    The December Awethology - Dark Volume is a mixture of stories written by #Awethors. Each and every story is unique, some chilling, others a surprise all relating to
    the month of December

    Because one voice in your head isn't enough, here are so many more, as the Awethors chime together with another collection, this time of December themed stories and poetry to make you laugh, make you cry and make you feel alive. We are the Awethors and these are our words to you.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPlaisted Publishing House
    Release dateDec 3, 2015
    ISBN9781311888013
    The December Awethology: Light Volume

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      Book preview

      The December Awethology - The Awethors

      The December Awethology

      The Light Volume

      An Anthology of December Themed Light Stories from the #Awethors

      Copyright 2015 The #Awethors Group

      http://www.awethors.com/

      All Rights Reserved

      No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

      in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,

      including photocopying, recording, or by any information

      storage and retrieval system, without permission in

      writing from all the authors in the #Awethor

      Anthology, except in the case of brief quotations

      embedded in reviews

      Acknowledgements

      Without the following people giving up their spare time and expertise this anthology would not have been possible:

      Proofreaders: Anita Kovacevic, CK Dawn, Christie Stratos, JB Taylor, LE Fitzpatrick Rebecca McCray,

      Ryan Guy, and Travis West

      Formatting: Claire Plaisted

      Management: Claire Plaisted, L E Fitzpatrick, and Rocky Rochford

      Publishing Sponsored by

      Plaisted Publishing House Ltd,

      New Zealand

      The Awethors would also like to thank the continued support from all members in the group.

      A Foreword from L E Fitzpatrick

      The Awethors are a group of talented and mostly undiscovered authors who gather online to host events and publish anthologies. We are spread throughout the world and cover a multitude of genres and writing styles, but we all have one thing in common; a passion for writing and literature.

      With such a wealth of talent in our group, publishing collections of our work is an absolute pleasure, but also whenever we embark on a project such as this, there is a real community vibe within our group to encourage submissions and develop text. Editors and proofreaders volunteer their time to develop stories, and there’s always an Awethor on standby to support us, offer tips, and give us great feedback. The community spirit of the Awethors is what really binds us together and strengthens us as writers. It’s a privilege to be part of this amazing group of writers and to be able to work with such truly awesome people.

      The diversity of our group means we can cover all bases. From Merry Christmas to Happy Hanukah; from snow covered fields; to basking on the beach, from Yo ho ho, to Bah humbug – there’s something for everyone. So however and wherever you’re spending this December, on behalf of all of all of the Awethors,

      Happy Reading

      L E Fitzpatrick

      Author of paranormal thriller The Running Game

      and compiler of the December Awethologies

      Contents

      Foreword

      The Christmas Surprise

      The Year of the Light Keepers

      Malic Saves Christmas

      A Faery Merry Christmas

      The Christmas Cuckoo Clock

      At Any Moment

      A Very Pepper Christmas

      A Test of Faith

      I Remember Grandpa

      Disaffected Dave

      A Very Spartan Christmas

      Starlight 38

      The Trial of Santa Claus

      A Christmas of Ice

      Evergreen

      Midwinter under the Bridge: Another Swedish Tale

      Clara’s Button

      Gone for Christmas

      The Woods

      CinnaFun Pinecones

      Afterword

      Biographies

      The Christmas Surprise

      Anita Kovacevic

      Am I a child or a grown-up, you ask?

      To figure that out is a difficult task.

      You may just be one and the other as well.

      Which matters more? No one can tell.

      This is my story, my Christmassy tale,

      So listen or read; let no verse here fail.

      Words have been sifted through a poet’s sieve,

      So here is what happened on a Christmas Eve…

      ~~~~

      The scent of fresh cookies and candles and pine,

      Cinnamon, roasting, some good food to dine,

      Carols so softly invading my ear,

      You’d think sleep would come, with no need to fear.

      Tired I was from all the Christmassy stuff,

      All the carrying and buying, all the huff and the puff.

      I’d been grumpy all day, not quite like a Grinch,

      I just wanted some peace, not getting an inch.

      But there I was lying. The silence was stark,

      Not a car in the street, no dogs that would bark,

      And my eyes still wide open, no dream as my shield,

      I willed it to come, but it just wouldn’t yield.

      I looked forward to Christmas, disliked Christmas Eve,

      No chores on Christmas, just gifts to receive.

      No one bugging or nagging, just letting me be.

      To do what I wanted’s all I wanted, you see?

      Come to think of it now, I may have been naughty,

      Screamed at some people when my rage caught me.

      But serves them right for disturbing my day,

      I just wanted some peace, things to go my way.

      I tried picturing reindeer, the sleigh on the roof,

      Eager for jingle bells and the tap of the hoof.

      The chimney was clogged; no Santa could enter,

      But still I was hoping to hear his ho-banter.

      My eyelids were glued by force of sheer will,

      But the Eve just laughed at my silly ordeal.

      I clenched my fists hard in infinite fright,

      Afraid I might not get any sleep that night.

      More terror then came as dawn grew stronger.

      Daylight was here! This couldn’t be wronger!

      In panic, I heard the squeaking of stairs.

      Who could that be? I wonder who dares…

      The noise of the radio crushed every hope.

      Morning news! Had I slept? Not a wink. Nope.

      Maybe nobody noticed. Maybe I get a gift.

      Nothing quite like a present to give you a lift.

      A mischievous smile painted my face,

      As I stumbled downstairs in a greedy race.

      But, oh what a shock! What a killer of joy!

      This wasn’t my house! No tree, not one toy.

      A skinny grey lady in a purple nightgown,

      Heavy smoker, all tipsy. She waved me come down.

      ‘Hey, bachelor guy, where’s my rent? It is due.’

      ‘Where’s my wife and my kids? Who the heck are you?

      And where is my house, all the gifts, our tree?’

      ‘No gifts,’ she hissed. ‘All you have’s what you see.’

      ‘No presents, you say?!?! What on earth do you mean?

      It’s Christmas, you hag, it is not Halloween!’

      ‘Give me my due, you insolent brat,’

      Her yellow teeth sneered at me just like that.

      ‘But why is this happening? What’s going on?’

      ‘You asked for this, dear, you said: ‘I want to be alone.’

      My skin started to crawl, my heart throbbed in fear,

      As she took out her wand and things became clear.

      ‘Did you think only Santa works on Christmas day?’,

      She winked, ‘We still keep the naughty at bay.’

      ‘I have come to collect, so give me my fee.

      You’ve been bad and greedy, and lazy, you see.’

      I still stood my ground, in spite of my shock.

      ‘I’m not paying a dime, this is my home, my stock.’

      To my horror, she waved her wand round my room.

      My home turned to dust, and I knew she was doom.

      ‘Give me back my family, give me back my own.’

      ‘But you said all you wanted was to be left alone.

      You can stay alone forever, for all I care.

      But I want MY present. I want MY share.’

      All good memories flashed. I fell down to my knees.

      There was nothing but her and my desperate pleas.

      I was cold, I was lonely, stupid to my shame,

      With only my arrogant, selfish self to blame.

      My face got all wet – I’d forgotten how to cry.

      I knew what to say but my throat got so dry.

      ‘Come on, my lovely, speak up, make it so.

      Don’t wait for too long, or I will soon go.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, not trusting my voice.

      ‘You’ll have to speak louder. There’s no other choice.’

      She laughed at me grinning, but I didn’t care.

      I longed for my kids’ hugs, my wife’s silky hair.

      I yearned for their noise, their nagging, their song.

      ‘How could I have been so terribly wrong?’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ I spoke or shouted – who knew?

      ‘Some fear, five tears, and some guilt, too?

      Oh my, what a generous gift, milord!

      Farewell to thee now!’ She didn’t sound bored.

      She vanished from sight, an echo behind.

      ‘You humans are silly, such hearts and no mind.’

      And there I knelt frozen, alone and so sad,

      I fell into darkness, cold ground my firm bed.

      ~~~~

      ‘It’s snowing! It’s snowing! Get up, sleepy head!

      You’re sleeping so hard, we thought you were dead!’

      Children’s hands now dragged me to the windowsill.

      ‘Merry Christmas, Dad! It’s snowing! Take us sledding downhill!’

      ‘Merry Christmas, my lovelies! See what’s under the tree!’,

      My wife told the kids, and then she kissed me.

      As we opened the gifts and kids screamed with delight,

      I bit my lip thinking of the previous night.

      ‘I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything, dove,’

      I told my good wife, who was smiling with love.

      ‘Don’t be silly! I love it,’ she removed a wrapping.

      ‘This purple nightgown is just perfect for napping.’

      ~~~~

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