Wednesday Words: Christmas Free-For-All

So, how many shopping days until Christmas? Yikes! I should stop staring at the pretty snow and either get stuff ordered online or go shopping! A couple of things before we get to the words. #1lineWed is letting all writers pick their own theme. It’s a free-for-all. Me? I decided to share this rough draft scene. And speaking of FREE!!! CHRISTMAS MOON is still free to download and keep until December 20th. Grab a copy today if it’s not already in your library. As for today’s snippet. It’s more or less self-explanatory…
****
In the beginning…

“C’mon, chickie. It’s been two years.”

Two years was a blink of the eye when it comes to goodbyes. I wasn’t ready. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And I certainly wasn’t ready to head to the local roadhouse for dancing and beer.

Suzi leaned down to stare in my eyes. “It’s almost Christmas and you’re still living in a mausoleum.”

She was right, as best friends often are. Christmas used to be my favorite season. Until a dark green car pulled up to my house and two men in uniform got out. December 23rd. Mike’s National Guard unit had been ambushed. Mine was not the only family who mourned that Christmas. Except I had no family. It was just Mike and me.

“Earth to Robyn.”

“Suz…”

“No excuses, Robs. We are going to Angel’s. I’m going to introduce you to some of Drummer’s friends. We’ll drink some beer. Have some laughs. You can’t hide forever.”

“Sure I can,” I mumbled.

She plopped a cap on my head and snugged it around my ears. Then she pulled me to my feet and held out my puffy jacket. “It’s supposed to snow tonight.”

“See? Another reason to stay home.”

Suzi laughed. Her laugh always got to me. It sounded like jingle bells. “This is Montana. And December. Snow happens.”

We took my car because it had all-wheel drive. As Suzi reminded me, December in Montana meant snow. It also meant Christmas. I didn’t do Christmas. Not anymore. Christmas had once been a big deal. Huge. As kids, it hadn’t been much to write home about—mainly because we didn’t have homes. Not real ones. But once it was just Mike and me? Every room had a tree and lights and wreaths festooned everything that could be draped and hung. After I got the news, I took the decorations down and hid them away. And they remained in storage. Christmas was just one more day in a long series of days.
****
There it is, the opening to SILENT NIGHT the free Christmas story I’m working on. I thought it was going one way but the characters took a detour. It happens and it’s all good. I shoul mention that I also piddled around (while looking for inspiration) and created a cover–something I don’t normally do but what the hey? Why not, right? Anyway, writers, it’s a free-for-all so share whatever words you’d like. Readers, anyone want to guess about the hero?

About Silver James

I like walks on the wild side and coffee. Lots of coffee. Warning: My Muse runs with scissors. Author of several award-winning series--Moonstruck, Nightriders MC, The Penumbra Papers, and Red Dirt Royalty (Harlequin Desire) & other books! Purveyor of magic, mystery, mayhem and romance. Lots and lots of romance.
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2 Responses to Wednesday Words: Christmas Free-For-All

  1. Ooo, good one! Sad but you’ll make it happy down the road.

    Since it’s a free for all, here’s the beginning of a Christmas story I started but never finished… A Wish in the Snow…

    “What do you mean I have to go to the North Pole?” I asked Zeke, my former lover and current receptionist. “It’s cold up there on a good day and December twenty-sixth is not a good day. Last I heard, it was winter up there, too.”
    “Kris needs you.”
    “Kris?” I laughed. “As in Kris Kringle? Good one. Will I be visiting the Easter Bunny, too?”
    Zeke apparently did not find any of this funny. If looks could kill a genie, I’d be pushing up daisies.
    “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”
    His head slowly swung from one side to the other.
    “Kris Kringle. As in Santa Claus. As in the jolly, fat dude with the big belly and the white beard. That Kris?” I couldn’t believe he was real. “Why the hell would he need help? He can swoosh around the world delivering prezzies to all the good girls and boys in the space of one night.”
    “And how do you assume he does that?”
    “Actually, I stopped believing in Santa when I was about seven. Mom was deep in her Absinthe glazed period and passed out in the middle of a pile of wrapping paper, clutching a tag that read To: Josephine, From: Santa.”
    “Think about it, Josie.”
    I took a deep breath and let it out in one long huff. “He’s a genie. And he doesn’t actually deliver gifts to all the kids in the world, but he’s probably where the myth got started. Like my dad and the Reynard the Fox myth.”
    “Bingo.”
    “So, what the hell does he need my help for?”

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