Frosting (Jorio)

Grass blades crackling dawn
White frost coats sparkling
New season new style
Pristine clothes for Christmas

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The Unsleeping — A Christmas Tale

The Unsleeping — A Christmas Tale

I called myself one of the unsleeping it sounded so much more dramatic than insomniac. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t fall asleep. If I didn’t try, it was even worse. Yet there were advantages to my unsleeping self and Christmas was almost upon us.
I sat at my window watching the barn owls flit across the moonlight meadow like nighttime phantoms. A clear sky and silver moon made for an idyllic winter scene; snow would have made it Christmas, but there was none.
I dragged my eye from the Christmas Eve skies to the meadow and back again just in case. He couldn’t avoid me forever. He wouldn’t, would he?
When the village church struck midnight, I became more attentive. I allowed the barn owls to go unobserved as I hunted out far larger prey.
Twice I thought I saw him, but it was just stray wafts of cloud. Three times I thought I heard him, but it was the sleeping snores of the parents to an unsleeping son. Time dragged on and still I waited.
When I awoke to a stiff neck and cold everything still propped against the window ledge, I turned with a crack to see a note sticking out of my Christmas stocking. It read:

Hope you enjoyed your sleep.
Merry Christmas
Mister C.

It was the best Christmas present I’d ever received.

50 Word Stories: The Dream

50 Word Stories: The Dream
The same as always, I wake and pray. Tensing, I draw back the curtains to a torrent of white that falls on the window like sprayed frosting; Christmas the cake to be devoured. I have no need to see the tree, presents, smiles and joy, my day is already made. 

In The Light of Thieves

In The Light of Thieves

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An unmistakable presence in the room,
lingering without revealing,
observing through unopened eyes,
the ghost of the season watches all.
He sways in a draught like a reed by a river
as fluid as the moonrise and
gentle as a warm summer night;
but it is not summer, not now.
We feel him testing the presents under the tree
teasing the corners of carefully wrapped extravagances
whilst casting looks to those without.
Thieves he calls us,
though not with malice.
We sit in the hues of myriad sparkling lights:
vermillion; sapphire; citrine and more
wondering if everything we’ve never asked for
has fallen from the stars;
there are those who only have the stars,
and even then only if roofless tents
are granted cloud free skies.
Christmas, a time of such joy and good will,
yet so hard to understand.
The seasonal ghost turns from us now,
he can’t bear it any longer.
He has dawdled as he dwindles,
as have we.
There was so much more to see
in his short window of time.
There is so much more to see
in our own.
But will we?
Shall we?
Can we?

50 Word Stories: Red and White Yesterdays

For all the kids that dwell Deep inside.

50 Word Stories: Red and White Yesterdays

I remember before the knowing, when the pure whiteness of snow signalled the onset of Christmas and with it Him. My dreams were red and white with expectant tomorrows, the child that was revelling in the magic of that one day amongst so many others. It has not gone away. 

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Richard