First off, if you came here to read a story follow the link below. A Christmas story was accepted by the local newspaper for their "I Know A Story" column. (Actually, it's a true story for once.)
The link is broken so I've opted to reprint the story here.
The Little Red Santa House
Growing up in Lancaster, there
were two things which heralded the Christmas season; the trees
on the Watt and Shand building
downtown, and the appearance of the little red Santa house at the
Lancaster Shopping Center.
One particular year, I stood on
that cusp of disbelief which comes to every child. There were
rumors circulating that Santa wasn't
real, that parents bought the gifts, and that the “naughty or
nice" list was a ploy to get us to behave. I
desperately wanted to believe, especially since I held out
hope that Santa would deliver a
much-longed-for pony one of these years. So I was quite torn when I
entered the red house and climbed up on
Santa's lap.
“Merrrrry Christmas Lisa! You've
been in some trouble lately, haven't you?”
I was absolutely floored.
Obviously this was the real Santa; how else would he know my name
and my criminal record? There would
be no pony this year, and as that particular dream
flew out the window I racked my brain
trying to figure out which dastardly deed he was referring to.
Tearing down the clothesline by playing
Tarzan and swinging on it? Secretly sweeping my sister's
room for contraband? Eating the candy
canes off of the tree?
In spite of my horror, I felt
excitement as well. Santa was real, and there was still time to
be a good girl and try to win back
Santa's approval. I vowed to not do a single thing wrong until
Christmas. I accepted a candy cane and
ran over to Mom to tell her the good news, while Dad had a
word with Santa.
So I was a believer for another
year, and even after that I wondered how a man dressed as Santa
knew my personal information. As you
may have guessed, my parents told me later that Dad knew
“Santa” from work.
Of course there never was a pony,
but there was a chemistry set (a gift that my parents would
soon regret) and a Black Stallion book
signed by the Black Stallion himself and author Walter Farley.
One day I would meet Mr. Farley, but
that's another story.
Eventually I had a son, and I took
him to the Santa house as well. The Lancaster Shopping
Center has undergone dramatic changes
over the years, but as I drive by today I can still visualize the
way it was, with the magical little
house that meant Christmas.
In other news (if you haven't read the previous post) I've decided to expand what originated as a steampunk flash into a novelette or even a novel. I've got 10 chapters, 12000 words total so far as a rough draft. I have to admit, I'm having more fun researching than actually writing. I'm also combating the usual tendency to edit and perfect as I go, without much luck. I am getting better at just leaping over problem areas and continuing the story line. I can always go back and rewrite sections later.
Hope everyone else's writing is going well and that you are all ready for the holidays. It's snowing here, and quite cozy with the Christmas lights and all.
Until next time....