@Ponderable saidMay we enquire how many you have had? 🤔
Not yet, there is still some time 🙂
Thank you for bumping the thread
@Ponderable saidOh dear, that’s a shame. Could it be the number of words putting people off?
Three
I’m thinking that 100 to 1,000 words would also be acceptable?
All entries to be in by Tuesday 17th of December 17:00 GMT.
@Drewnogal said"No more than 1000" includes short form. However when we tried the short form contest (200) there were only two contributions...
Oh dear, that’s a shame. Could it be the number of words putting people off?
I’m thinking that 100 to 1,000 words would also be acceptable?
All entries to be in by Tuesday 17th of December 17:00 GMT.
#1
Lone
A bracing walk along an exposed hillside. The icy wind stung my face as the rain now turned to hail. I gripped the sides of my hood to keep it in place as bits of tiny white grit bounced around me. Admittedly, not an ideal day to explore a slippery, stoney track but I had been eager to get out and try my new ordnance survey map of the surrounding area. When I’d set off the sun had been flashing through fast moving heavy clouds but now it had disappeared altogether and it had grown colder and darker.
Yes, I had been warned that the weather in the Lake District could change very quickly. The guy at the Mountain Warehouse store in Ambleside had suggested a range of impressive, expensive hiking clothes which looked the business but spare cash I did not have since completing my purchase of Lone Cottage which is based 3 miles north of town along a farm track that curves on up a steep terrain.
It had been something of an impulsive purchase though I had been thinking of escaping city life for a while with retirement looming. Lone is detached and in need of what the estate agent described as TLC. My younger brother Craig had scoffed after a cursory glance at the property details saying that Lone looked more in need of demolition than modernisation. Ok, it had obviously been occupied by someone infirm as there were a number of handrails around the place. The bathroom featured one of those thigh high folding enclosures and a ripped, faded plastic shower curtain, the psycho film type that clings to your body. It contained a white plastic and rusting metal shower chair for sitting on. I wondered if the previous owner had ended up in hospital or had possibly died here?
So here I was, mid December, living in a place that’s prone to snowfall with no possible means of escape if I got snowed in as I’m still driving my dad’s old 89 Volvo estate car. A much loved old workhorse, great for loading up with stuff. I managed to get all of the things I’d need from the flat at Bury that I’d shared with Lynne for the past 15 years. The rest of my things were abandoned. Lynne agreed to take them to a charity shop or a recycling depot. The fewer memories I have of the flat the better. I won’t bore you with the details.
My jeans were now cold and wet as the rain streamed down from my waterproof jacket and my boots were sodden. I decided to safely retreat back towards the familiarity of the farm track before my map disintegrated. It took about an hour to reach Lone’s sad little upvc door which now looked rather welcoming. I was eager to get inside for a hot coffee and some dry clothes and immediately stripped down to my shorts in the porch leaving my gear in a dripping heap on the floor. I’d figure out how to dry it all later and rummaged through one of my holdalls for a comforting, towelling robe. The kettle now whistled excitedly on the kitchen stove which was powered by the large red gas cylinder that sat outside. I had no idea how full it was but had read that pouring hot water down the side would enable my hand to detect where the temperature of the cylinder turned from warmer to colder, indicating the level of the liquid gas inside. I had promised myself I’d collect a spare tank from Ambleside the following morning.
I settled down on the sofa sipping my drink and enjoying the warmth while watching the rain through the patio doors as it pooled on the coarse garden lawn. Daylight was now fading but there was something sadly beautiful about the view, the row of huge horse chestnut trees that bordered the paddock beyond. Their aged boughs wearily reaching up to the low hung sky, stripped of every single leaf during their winter dormancy. I wondered how they would look in the spring with squirrels leaping among them, feasting on the new fleshy shoots after their hungry gap. I wondered how Lone’s last owner had found the winters here. I think it had been a she? The little feminine touches here and there, the table cloths, the 2024 rose calendar, the lilac moth bitten curtains and faded blue and gold nylon carpet. She’d been pretty old I guessed. How were her last few days here, was she sad that she couldn’t return to her independent lifestyle? I shuddered at the thought of growing old, the thought of needing a carer to help me wash or feed me.
I checked my phone for texts, now needing some human contact. It was almost out of charge. None had come through yet. Craig had warned me about internet black-spots up here so maybe I would get something when I drove out tomorrow. But for now I was here for the night. I prepared myself a curry supper. I’d bought a few dehydrated meal packs from the hiking shop, meals that could be prepared by campers in a tent in seconds as you literally poured the boiling water into the bag and let it stand a few minutes. Mmm chicken korma tonight, it tasted fantastic!
After eating I read through my journal and closed the cover, happy with my recent entry. I checked the front door and carefully ascended the narrow, curved stone stairway upstairs. One to be carefully negotiated after alcohol I reminded myself. The rain now lashed down onto the cottage roof and the wind had picked up. I peeped between the bedroom curtains into the black night before zipping myself up in my luxury sleeping bag, the type that just leaves your face exposed. I felt like a cosy corpse. I lazily wondered about the Lone lady as
I drifted off into a heavy sleep.
#2
The Best Christmas Ever
My sister used to intentionally hurt me when we were kids. It started with pinching I think - I was really little. It grew to the random unexpected kidney shot and foot stomping. She was almost ten years older than me and quite a bit stronger. I put up with the old arm behind the back and the occasional hard poke in the chest.
On my 11th birthday she grabbed my ear and twisted until I was on my knees. When she let go I punched her in the face as hard as I could. She took her broken nose to the hospital for some bandaging and never came back. I never saw her again.
The years have gone by, Christmases and birthdays without so much as a card or call.
Now it is Christmas Eve, and I am taking the kids to finally meet their long lost aunt - who apparently is dying of something. My daughter is making us go. She and auntie somehow found each other and have been texting.
The house is nice in a magazine kind of way. It doesn’t look “lived-in” so much as planned and executed smartly. Sis looks like crap. No color (pallid?) and no life in her eyes at all. I get a curt nod, but sis hugs my kids and shows them to the brightly lit tree which dominates a pile of presents.
Turns out I have a niece and a nephew. They are excited to meet their cousins - but they are also reserved and barely speak a word to any of us. Then I see it, the flinch. It’s subtle of course. Years of experience allow for a partial step back that goes unnoticed to the uninformed eye. But when sis turns abruptly in mid-conversation, both of them stop breathing for a half-second to see what’s next.
After dinner and presents - the reason we are here becomes apparent. How would I like to raise two more kids? Sis is not going to last another month maybe, there is no husband anymore (never asked why - maybe I didn’t need to), and she needs someone to finish raising her progeny.
I said no.
The look of fear and pain in her eyes was what I was going for and she didn’t disappoint. She took a deep ragged breath and asked again. We are family. They are family.
Well yes, and of course I was going to raise them as my own. But all these years later I still loathed her and I still wanted her to suffer. Being Christmas Eve made it all the more special.
At midnight we said a little prayer together and loaded up the minivan. The new kids came home with us and none of us ever saw sis again. It was the best Christmas ever.
#3
Midwinter
When George and James were the last guests in the pub they came over the topic of festivities. James told George that he was about to take his winter celebration tour.
“What would that be?”
“Why don’t you join me, it is fun.”
So the next day they met with their sleeping bags and a rucksack filled with clothes and took the road. James drove the Jeep through ice and snow and after some time he diverted from the road and found a camp. There were a lot of guys camping out in the snow and collecting lots of wood on a central pile. James was greeted with a loud Hallo and he and George were led to the chieftain of the camp who asked a ritual question:
“When is midwinter?”
James replied aptly: “When the sun reaches the lowest point on the way over the sky it is the deepest winter. When the sun rises again days become longer and spring is near!”
Everybody agreed and they were admitted to the celebration.
The fire was ignited in the evening and was fed for a whole three days while people were singing and drinking and dancing and eating and sleeping and putting more wood to the flames and some even threw in things they wanted to be unburdened from.
After the fire had burned down the camp dissolved and James and George made their way to some big barn a few dozen miles further.
The big barn was decorated with green garlands and a lot of shiny balls and stars. James was greeted merrily and brought to the priest who asked: “When is midwinter”
James replied: “When the saviour is born in the dark days of winter and heaven breaks open and the angels sing and there is piece on Earth.”
Everybody agreed and they were welcomed to the festivity.
And people were drinking (in moderation) and singing carols and giving small presents to each other. And George gifted a nice shirt to some guy and was gifted a sturdy belt and James gifted some women a pink shawl and he got a good knife. And after a few days the food had been eaten and the punch had been drunk and the guy continued their journey.
Afew dozen miles down the road they came to a farm in which a long trunk of a tree was burning and people had helmets on their heads with small horns and the merrymaking was well developed.
And a really big blond guy with a big beard asked James: “When is midwinter?”
And he replied: “There are the twelve days when the boundary between our world and the world beyond are thin and that time is the midwinter”.
And everybody clapped them in the shoulders and they engaged in the celebrations and drunk and sung and ate and told large tales.
And after several nights the whole trunk had been consumed and they took their travel.
They had a few days on the road until they reached a meteorological station at January 14th. And the chief scientist asked them “When is midwinter?”
James replied: “The winter month are December, January and February, so midwinter is in the midst of January.” And the scientist who abhorred religion but were still fond of a good party had them for eating and drinking and the telling of funny and not so funny stories.
And three days later the two guys were on the road again. It took them some time until they arrived at yet another farm. That one had not much of decoration but a handful of people were engaged in mulling wine and baking bread and cooking meat.
And they greeted James with a much joy and the old woman at the head of the table asked: “Tell me when is midwinter?”
And James replied: “when the temperature is deepest and the warmth comes back slowly then is the mid of winter”.
And all agreed and food and drink were shared and plans were made for the year and hope sprung in the faces.
After returning from their trip George had just one question left for James: “So what do you really believe; when is midwinter?”
And James laughed loud and long and said: “Where ever they share their food and drink with you, where people share warmth against the frosty days, there is no winter. I am a child of the summer you know.”
And he laughed again loud and long.
#4
Do you have any idea what it's like having Christmas on a space-freighter to Mars? No, you don't. Well, it's remote. Very remote. Mars is frickin' 140 million miles from Home. This is my second Christmas away from that little blue dot receding into the distance behind me. My first Christmas away I just cried. Everyone at Mission Control in Houston were wonderful, sang carols, the family sent greetings from Lunar Dune Alpha link. NASA hid presents for me. In the cargo bay. A stollen; that's a German fruit cake. Only, a spider, or something, laid its eggs inside the package and they hatched out under way. The package exploded and the spiders, or whatever, escaped. They're on board, somewhere. I wonder if that's how life arrived on Earth. Some alien space-freighter lets loose a stowaway insect, and BANG! 150 million years later, h.saps evolves! So, here I am, alone aboard a space-barge bound for Mars. I wonder what NASA hid for me on board this Christmas. I hope it's not another stollen. Did I mention I have arachnophobia? --terrified of spiders.
SOME ARE POISONOUS; THEY CAN KILL YOU. I LET THE AIR OUT OF THE CARGO BAY, TO KILL THEM OFF. THEY PROBABLY ALREADY INVADED THE AIR DUCTS AND ESCAPED INTO THE LIVING QUARTERS. SOMETIMES, OUT OF THE CORNER OF MY EYE, I SEE SOMETHING MOVING ON THE WALL OR A CONTROL PANEL. I BREAK OUT IN A COLD SWEAT, LOOK AGAIN, IT'S NOTHING. IT'S CREEPY, KNOWING THERE ARE SPIDERS EVERYWHERE.
NASA pranks me all the time. Sometimes they shut down systems remotely, they tell me there's a malfunction and I have to repair it. They tell me to go to a certain control panel, remove the cover plate, and check some circuit or other. You know what? They hid little packets of jelly beans all over the ship. I find these little packets of jelly beans behind the cover plate, and I hear them laughing over the intercom in Houston. I love jelly beans: 'Jelly Bean Johnson' was my nickname back in flight training. Deck the halls with balls of holly--time to get out the Christmas deco, red and silver tinsel, get the ship ready for Christmas dinner: re-constituted, dehydrated, vacuum-packed turkey with powdered stuffing and cranberry sauce. There's no alcohol aboard. Safety reasons. Know what? I know how to make pruno. There are enough ingredients aboard to make pruno--that's jailhouse wine. Fruit juice, sugar, water, ketsup, add heat--ferments naturally. Tastes terrible, but gets ya drunk. No worries, the ship's on autopilot; I'm here to repair things, just in case. What could go wrong--every system on board has two backups, plus spares. I'm the only thing on board which doesn't have a backup! Funny, ain't it. It's a three-year journey--all alone, a guy could get a little loopy. Human contact is so important. That's why NASA pranks me. I prank them too. I told them I got a coded emergency message from the commander of Musk-One, the colony-ship 6 weeks ahead of me: mutiny on board, commander locked in his cabin, the next voice NASA would hear from Musk-One would be mutineers. They fuggin' bought it! What a laugh!
WHAT WAS THAT?? I SAW SOMETHING MOVE! OVER THERE! A SPIDER?! NO, NO, IT'S NOTHING. CALM DOWN, JAKE. HOW COULD THERE POSSIBLY BE SPIDERS HERE? WE'RE IN OUTER SPACE. THE ENTIRE SHIP WAS ASSEMBLED AND LOADED IN THE PURPOSE-BUILT, HERMETICALLY SEALED, GERM-FREE HANGAR AT MOFFETT FIELD. THERE AREN'T EVEN GERMS HERE, HOW COULD THERE BE SPIDERS?
So anyhow, we're pranking each other, all the time, to keep sane. Musk-One drops rubbish out the hatch for me to run into. What a laugh.
WHAT IF SPIDER EGGS GOT INTO THE STOLLEN IN THE FACTORY, BEFORE IT WAS WRAPPED AND SHIPPED? STUFF LIKE THAT HAPPENS. AUNT EDNA ONCE GOT A HUMAN FINGER IN A JAR OF PICKLES.
Hang up the pretty Christmas wreath--plastic, of course, ain't got no real plants here. Haven't seen a vegetable in two years. Christ! What I'd give for some broccoli. Time to get ready for the annual video call from President Trump.
{A voice comes over the intercom}: Musk-Two, do you copy? Houston, over.
Jake: Hello Houston, copy, over.
Houston: We have the President of the United States here, he'd like to have a word with you. Over.
Jake: What an honor! Put him on! Over.
President Trump: Hello, Jake. Seasons greetings and congratulations on the fine job you're doing on this tremendously import mission.
Jake: Thank you, Mr. President, for giving me this tremendous opportunity to serve my country and Musk Industries.
Trump: Eric, call me Eric, Jake. We have a great relationship, me and NASA. I know my late father would have been so proud to know that a colony on Mars is named after him: Mars Base Donald J. Trump! Just think of it!
Jake: Well, I'm mighty proud to be part of it.
Trump: There's a little present I got for you, Jake. It's all wrapped up. It's hidden in the console flap number .... er, lemme see now, oh yes, console flap number T-2745, should be right there near the nav console, they tell me.
Jake: {opens the console flap} Oh yes, here it is! I got it. Gosh, the wrapping paper is so pretty. It looks like one of those old music CDs, I recognize the size and shape. Is it a music CD?
Trump: Mebee, mebee not.
Jake: NASA knows I have kind of a thing for 1970s pop, Golden Oldies. I brought my own collection, good thing I still have that old CD player up here.
Trump: Open it up, open it up, I can hardly wait!
Jake: {tears off wrapping paper} Just a moment, yes! It is a music CD! Wonderful! Lemme turn it over and see .... it's ... it's Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA !!!
fin