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Where is Santa?

12/12/2013

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This little story is an entry into Susanna Leonard Hill's Holiday Writing Contest.  Check our her site and enjoy some of the other entries.  Here is my little story. 

contest
“Charlie,” yelled Mr. Russell. “Move the sleigh to the beginning of this line.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Russell, I’ll get right on it.”

Charlie was used to the chaos of the early morning hours before the Santa Parade. He scanned the gathered participants and couldn’t see the main attraction.

“Hey, Billy,” Charlie shouted. “Where’s Santa?”

Billy stopped and looked up. “What do you mean, where’s Santa?”

“I mean, where’s Santa? He’s not in his sleigh.”

Billy walked towards the sleigh and saw the elves, the stack of beautifully wrapped presents, the huge throne like chair where Santa was supposed to be sitting, but no Santa.

“Jane,” called Billy, “Where’s Santa?”

Jane looked up from the last minute adjustments to the float. “What do you mean, where’s Santa?”

“I mean, where’s Santa?” Billy shouted.

“Well, I thought he was here but I don’t see him.”

“We need to find Santa before Mr. Russell finds out.  What is a Santa Parade without a Santa!”

Jane laughed and then realized it wasn't funny.

Billy began calling out to the other volunteers, "Have you seen Santa?" 



No one seemed to have seen Santa. He looked inside the sleigh, but no Santa.  He looked by the coffee truck but no Santa.

The clock was ticking and the parade was due to begin in only 10 minutes but there was still no Santa.

Billy ran back towards Charlie and reported in.

“We still haven’t found Santa.”

“What do you mean, you haven’t found Santa?” Charlie responded. “Wait until Mr. Russell finds out.”

“Mr. Russell, I have looked all over and have not found Santa.  What are we going to do?  We don’t have a Santa!”

“What do you mean, we don’t have a Santa?” asked Mr. Russell.

Mr. Russell stormed over to the sleigh and looked inside. No Santa. He climbed into the sleigh and sat down on the throne. 



Suddenly, with a whirl of wind and a sudden flash of light, he was wearing a bright red Santa suit, complete with white beard and Santa hat.

“We found Santa,” shouted Charlie and the parade began.
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Franny Field Mouse

9/12/2013

1 Comment

 
Picture
Wonderful photo by Michelle Coldwell - as seen on CG Photo Club
My creative mind springs into action...
   Franny Field Mouse collapsed in the shelter of the discarded pallet, relieved to finally find refuge for a couple moments of rest. Her mind, reluctant to relax, replayed the events of the last hour.  Not only had she narrowly avoided the falling book, she had slipped behind the computer, only to find out that the cat had chosen that very location to take a nap.  
   She made a quick change in direction and scurried along the edge of the room and slid under the basement stairs. 
   'Few, that was close!' 
   Franny was calming her nerves when she felt something was very wrong. Franklin, the feline, had spotted the retreating form of Franny and crept slowly behind the unsuspecting field mouse, hoping to trap her. Suddenly the chase we on! 
   Franny sprang into motion and twisted her way through a maze of containers then jumped for the edge of a winter coat.  She rushed up the coat, along the rod, through a hole and popped out at the top of the stairs. Luck would have it that the back door opened and she slipped through, just as Franklin rushed past the legs of the dog and almost caught her. Through the tall grasses, behind the dog house and into the lane she sprinted. Over the dried leaves and through the knothole in the fence.  
   Franklin never slowed and took the fence in a single leap. A slight hesitation as he picked his way along the top of the fence, keeping his keen eyes on the retreating form of the little mouse. Franny never hesitated but flew through the discarded scraps of metal in the junk yard until she found a stack of wooden pallets. She slipped between the broken pieces of wood and finally collapsed, staying as still as possible. Franklin jumped over discarded pieces of old cars and broke down appliances. He saw the tail of the little field mouse as she slipped behind a building. 
   Just as he cut the corner, Franklin came face to face with a bulldog. Franklin planted all four paws on the back of dog and sprang for the top of the nearest piece of junk. The last sounds that Franny heard were the hisses of the cat as he defended himself against the barking dog. She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh."
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    Nancy Taylor Major, grew up on the West Coast of Canada and now lives on Vancouver Island. 

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