by WinR members

“In 150 words or fewer, use (most of) these holiday words in a story: snowflake, candle, cookie, bell, star, and mitten. Your story can be funny, magical, reminiscent, or adventurous—it’s up to you!”
- Jill Amadio
“Despite the snowflakes landing on her nose and eyes (the only parts of her uncovered) as she trudged along the lane in Boston, she kept hoping for a glimpse of the stars. It was her sole method of navigation, and she longed to see Venus, her home planet.
Suddenly, she spotted a small dark object a few feet ahead. Curious, she picked it up, noting five leather tubes, four next to each other, and another, shorter tube separated from the others (a mitten!). The object appeared to be similar to her own three tubes for each hand. She threw it back onto the snow as she heard a deep booming sound coming from the pointed structure up ahead (a bell tower!).
She stopped to listen as the booms changed tone quickly, and she realized this was what mortals called music. She entered and saw a myriad of little burning candles on a stand. Was this a code?
She ran outside, fumbled in her pocket to retrieve her “nallimachine,” and pressed the shifter button. Instantly, she shot up into the sky, through the snow clouds, and into a triangular craft that had its door already open.
“SoiurmmegivomortChristmasalsii,” she gasped. The pilot nodded and pushed a series of knobs, sending the craft into space.
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2. Maggie King
Every year, my daughter Molly and I watch Christmas movies. When The Bells of St. Mary’s ended, I started Frosty the Snowman and went to the kitchen to heat hot chocolate for the two of us. Outdoors, fat snowflakes fluttered in the air, covering the ground in a thick, white blanket. I picked up one of Molly’s mittens from the floor.
“Mom,” Molly cried from the family room. “The star is crooked!”
I handed Molly a mug of fragrant hot chocolate and straightened the star on top of the tree. The tinsel on the branches reflected the lights in jewel colors of red, green, and blue.
“Mom, can we leave Christmas cookies on the mantle for Santa?”
“Of course, darling. And you get to pick the cookies Santa will like.”
Molly squealed in delight. “I love Christmas, Mommy.”
“So do I, darling. So do I.”
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3. Jackie Houchin
Mittens, my black-and-white tuxedo kitten, jumped from my bed to the bookcase by my window and wiggled her head through the slit in the curtains. I heard her “chat-chat-chatter” at something outside, but I was too cozy in my bed to get up and see.
She started “running” her front paws on the cold glass, making a squeaking sound, and jingling the bell on her collar. “Meow,” she said, pushing through the curtain to stand on the windowsill, her tail twitching.
I popped the rest of my gingerbread cookie into my mouth and climbed out of bed. “Brrrrr.” I stuck my head between the curtains to see what Mittens saw. She was purring as loudly as an electric pencil sharpener now!
“Awwww,” I purred too. In the neighbor’s upstairs window across from mine was my friend’s new white Persian kitten. She had a big red Christmas ribbon around her neck.
“Hi, Star!” I said and waved Mittens’ paw at her. She squeezed her golden eyes shut briefly and smiled.
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4. G. B. Pool
A bell went off in young Bobby Gentry’s head last year when he tried catching a glimpse of Santa and his reindeer, which he did every Christmas Eve. He saw something flash across the night sky, followed by a shower of snowflakes that looked like glittering stars.
He planned all year for this next Christmas Eve. He picked out the prettiest cookie his aunt had made for the holiday party earlier that evening and stuffed it in his pocket. It was broken by the time he got home, but it would have to do.
He left a note, the cookie, some mittens for Santa to keep his hands warm, and a handmade card. In the note, Bobby said he didn’t want anything for himself, but would Santa deliver this card on his journey.
The card featured a lopsided cake and three candles. Written inside were these words: Happy Birthday, Jesus.
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5. Linda Johnston
Who Saved Who?
Wearing a jacket and boots, Ava approached her car outside her Indiana home as snowflakes fell. Christmastime was nearing. Today was growing late, and a star glowed in the darkening sky.
She and her husband, Bret, had no kids yet, and Ava was lonesome since Bret had suddenly left town for business. Well, she knew where to go. She and Bret had already made the decision. Now, it was time.
Driving carefully, Ava soon reached the pet shelter where a candle burned in the window. Exiting her car, she pulled on mittens for the short walk inside.
And yes! She was met at the entrance by volunteer Sue, with a special dog leashed beside her: an adorable, abandoned Papillon mix.
“Hi, Lucy!” Ava knelt to offer a small dog cookie. As Lucy ate it, Ava stood and looked at Sue. “Is she–?”
“She’s yours after we finalize paperwork.”
Ava smiled and picked Lucy up. Christmas in their household would be wonderful.
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6. Renee LeVerrier (guest)
A Haiku
Mom’s cookie tins hold
Stars and snowflakes, mittens, bells
Reach in for childhood
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7. Barb Bland (guest)
All the other women in my family were up to their eyebrows cooking, shopping, wrapping, and decorating for Christmas, so I volunteered to look after my three-year-old niece, Lizzie, who was sick in bed. In her darkened bedroom, I told her about The Star and the heavenly angels appearing to the shepherds watching their flocks by night.
“The German Shepherds?” she interrupted.
I realized that her next-door neighbor had two dogs of that breed and that Lizzie was too young to have yet learned about nationalities, so I simply laughed and said, “Yes. The German Shepherds.”
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Hope you all enjoyed the stories. Got any of your own to share??









Marc Jedel writes humorous murder mysteries. He credits his years of marketing leadership positions in Silicon Valley for honing his writing skills. While his high-tech marketing roles involved crafting plenty of fiction, these were just called emails, ads, and marketing collateral.

Here’s a suggestion for wannabe authors. You’ve pondered that writing project for years; now you have time to get those ideas down on paper (or computer, or recording device). What would it take to turn that dream into a manuscript?
I’ve opened membership to this site on a temporary basis. Here’s a place for you to learn about the author’s journey from “aspiring” to “avid.” Find out how to improve your writing, where to market your work, and ways to research trends in the industry. Get questions answered from an author who’s been there.
I’m a semi-retired college English instructor and published author with a doctorate in English composition. I self-published the Self-publishing Guide in 1979 and went on to self-publish print versions of a mystery series and several non-fiction books. I’ve given workshops through libraries, bookstores, writers organizations, and continuing education departments and have written for writers’ newsletters, homeschooling blogs, inspirational magazines, and publications such as the Des Moines Register.
The event is the largest annual gathering in America for writers and fans of traditional mysteries in the genre of Agatha Christie, which places them in a genre called ‘cozy.” It appears that publishers here prefer authors to be strictly categorized into the type of book they write: romantic suspense, noir, thriller, psychological suspense, hard-boiled, legal thriller, historical, private investigator, cozy, police procedural, and sub-genres such as a sci-fi and the newest, cyber-crime mysteries.
The second book in my series, “Digging Up the Dead: A Tosca Trevant Mystery” was published just in time for this premier annual event. My main character hails from Cornwall and comes to live in Newport Beach, like me, so the “Fish Out of Water” panel was perfect for us both. It was fun to explain to the audience that Tosca Trevant, a London gossip columnist (me too!) had rattled the royals by discovering yet another scandal at Buckingham Palace. This led her editor to re-assign her temporarily to America. Cussing mildly in the Cornish language, and coping with a culture that sees no need for a teashop on every corner, the meddlesome, outspoken and humorous Tosca turns amateur sleuth when she stumbles upon human remains in a neighbor’s garden, in the best Miss Marple tradition although Tosca is a younger version.
She was instantly contradicted by a voice behind my chair shouting out, “Yes! You did know!” The voice was male and sounded exactly the way I had described his gravelly voice in a previous chapter. I swung around, dumbfounded. Of course, there was no one there and no one else was in the house. Some writers say their characters often take over their role in a book but this was different. Sam spoke a line of dialogue that added another dimension to the plot. It worked well, surprisingly, giving an extra twist to the story. I didn’t hear from him again nor from anyone else I created so I guess he and the others were satisfied with how the plot was progressing.
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