Christmas Drabbles

Every Christmas, the 20-20 Club runs a Christmas Drabble Competition for its members. A drabble is a short story of precisely one hundred words, including the title. 

Twenty-five drabbles were entered for the competition this year.

Each drabble had to be inspired in some way by one of the following themes:

1. The Star

2. Christmas Everyday

3. Surprise, Surprise

4. Let It Snow

The competition was organised by me but had six external judges, none of whom knew anyone in the 20-20 Club except for me. The drabbles were judged entirely anonymously. This time, I had a go too and sent my own drabbles to the judges, anonymously, but my name didn't go on the official list of entrants. However, two of my stories did pretty well, the third not so well. It was good fun even though I wasn't able to be an official contestant. All the drabbles were excellent, and everyone scored well into the top half of the available maximum score.

The winners were as follows:

First Prize

'What's In A Name?' by Glen Lee

Second Prize

'Surprise' by Sue Davnall

Joint Third Prize:

'Live Aid' by Chrissie Poulter

'The Three Stars' by Wendy Toole

'Find Her In The Morning' by D.H.L.Hewa

Highly Commended

'Marvin' by Michael Poyzer

'Surprise Surprise' by J.M. Langan

'Aphrodite's Child' by Ron Hardwick

'Mari Lwyd' by Beck Collett

Below are a selection of drabbles from the competition, in random order. They are the ones whose authors gave permission for them to be used:

Surprise      [Theme: Surprise, Surprise]

By Louise Wilford

The room was buzzing.

Watching her inebriated friend, Sally, stagger towards her in four-inch heels, Lynn smiled.

‘She was doing shots earlier,’ said Tom.

‘And stuffing her face with cupcakes!’

‘Amazing she’s still upright!”

              ‘She looks a bit green!’

Lights dimmed. Revellers sang ‘Happy Birthday…’. Waiters wheeled a huge gateau to Lynn’s table.

              ‘Feel a bit si…!’ Sally began, before falling headfirst into the cake.

Horrified silence.

Then Tom said: ‘That’s the first time I’ve seen a girl jump into a cake!’

‘Be thankful,’ giggled Lynn. ‘I thought we were about to see cake jumping out of a girl!’

 

 

 

Stephen’s Day    [Theme: Christmas Everyday]

By Chrissie Poulter

 

‘Roll up, Roll up! Get your Xmas here. Two for one now folks. Wrapped and ready to go.’

Little Stephen tugging her sleeve. ‘Can we have another Xmas, Sandra?’

‘Every day please!’ said the old lady beside them.

‘All that Hoo-Ha every day?’ exclaimed Sandra.

‘I’d hardly hear it, pet, and rarely see it. A proper dinner every day, would be heaven.’

Sandra called over to the hawker. ‘We’ll take two, please.’ Pulling on her red hat, she turned to her neighbour. ‘Lead on, Mrs Duff. You make the tea. We’ll bring the Hoo-Ha, and all the trimmings!’

 

Snow Angels    [Theme: Let It Snow]

By Glen Lee

Daddy said when it snows, now I’m a big girl, he will teach me to make snow angels.

Baby Jesus was in his manger at school, so I asked him, ‘Please let it snow today.’

He heard me because it did snow. Huge fluffy snowflakes tumbled from the clouds all day.

After school, Mummy was cross because I wouldn’t take off my wellingtons, coat and gloves. She didn’t understand, I had to be ready to make snow angels when Daddy arrived home.

Two policemen came and Mummy screamed. ‘No! No! He can’t be.’

I’m still waiting for Daddy.

 

 

This Year’s Nativity Play     [Theme: Surprise, Surprise]

By Ron Hardwick

‘Steve, I’m writing a modern nativity play.’

‘Are you?’

‘It’s called the Star of Bethlehem.’

‘Is it a long play?’’

‘Short. Two Acts. First Act, three kings go to Bethlehem. Second Act, they see a star.’

‘Bit thin.’

‘Needs padding out.’

‘Who plays the three kings?’

‘Dunno yet, Steve, but you’re one of them.’

‘Me? I can’t act for toffee.’

‘Nonsense, Your only line will be: “look up in the sky, you other two kings, and clock that bleedin’ great star.”’

‘Contemporary cockney. I like that.’

‘Fine. Now you can help me write the blasted thing?’

 

 

 

Not Even Tired    [Theme: Surprise, Surprise]

By Beck Collett

Mam sent me to bed at 8pm, said I needed to unwind or I’d not be asleep before Sian Corn came to leave me presents. I’m not even tired, it’s not fair. I can hear Cilla on telly, surprise, surprising someone with a long-lost sister or something. Mam's been up;  told me off already for staring out the window, and took my torch in case I catch Sian Corn in the act. I’m not a baby, I’m fourteen nearly!

Damn, I fell asleep! Cilla's gone quiet, Mam's snoring, and my stocking's bulging! He’s been; beat that, Cilla.

 

 

 

 

The Star   [Theme: The Star]

By Lin De Lazlo

The father died just before his child was born, leaving grief in his wake.

 

The child was a beautiful version of him, full of innocence and life, and completely unaware

of the chaos around her. When she was old enough to understand, the mother told her that if  

she looked up to the sky at night, the brightest star in the sky was her father. He couldn’t be

here to watch over her, so he did it from the highest point possible. The lone star twinkling

brightest would be him.

 

I look sometimes. I’m sure I see him.

 

 

 

 

Aphrodite’s Child   [Theme: Surprise, Surprise]

By Ron Hardwick

She sleeps, wax-like, on silken sheets.  Outside, bells ring; a barn owl hoots. From far away floats the elfin music of carol-singers. Feet crunch on the snowy gravel. The Christmas lights are mere pin-pricks in the snow. I hold my gifts of frankincense and myrrh and watch her breathing. She’s beautiful, fragile as a goldcrest’s egg.  I am thrice-blessed to love one so diaphanous, so ethereal. 

I watch her as dawn cracks on Christmas morning. She awakes, gives me he

Aphrodite smile.

‘Surprise, surprise,’ I say, as I lay my gifts on the pillow by her lovely head.

 

 

 

Red Star  [Theme: The Star]

By J.M. Langan

In a back-to-back house in Birmingham, a small red forlorn felt star was in a drawer, completely forgotten for many years. It was out of fashion as it didn’t shine, blink or twinkle.

              There was a time when it had pride of place every Christmastime. But times change.

              One day, some sticky little curious fingers found it, wiped it with an old flannel and popped it on the Christmas tree next to a glossy bright blue light. The family commented on how beautifully handmade it was and just like that, it was a favourite decoration in fashion again.

 

 

 

 

Live Aid   [Theme: The Star]

By Chrissie Poulter

 

Walking down the hill from the university station. Was it raining? No. They wouldn’t have stood still, talking, if it was. But did they stand still? Maybe his voice, calling her name, had stopped her in her tracks. That now oh-so-famous voice. Maybe they walked and talked. He, a first-year student, wanting her advice. Should he leave and become a pop star. That’s what he said. A pop star. Take time out, she’d said, give it a go. So he did. Never looked back. Couldn’t sing. Took lessons. Worked a treat. Apart from that ‘bum note’ in 1985.

 

 

 

Star    [Theme: The Star]

By Sue Davnall

In the far beyond hung a small and lonely star. All around stretched unfathomable distances of chilly emptiness. The nearest neighbours were light years away, and thus it had been forever. Then one - Day? Year? Millennium? – a tiny object flew into the star’s orbit and began to emit a radiance of its own, pulsing steadily in a clear act of friendship. The star responded, and far, far away the scientist observing the read-outs from the probe fell off his chair with excitement. Soon the probe’s power source waned and there was silence and emptiness once more. Poor star!

 

 

 

 

 

Marvin  [Theme: Surprise, Surprise]

By Mike Poyzer

A great day today. Marvin Starrett, the bane of my life, wasn’t at school. It was heavenly. He’s bullied me mercilessly since my first day at this primary school.

Now, surprise, surprise, on my way home, he’s riding straight at me on his BMX.

‘I’m sorry, shitter,’ he shouts, using his nickname for me. He swerves past me at the last second and races off down the road. I continue home, slightly puzzled.

Jimmy, my brother meets me at our door. ‘Have you heard about Starrett. He’s dead. Put his bike under a bus going to school this morning.’

 

 

Snowdrops    [Theme: Let it snow]

By Chrissie Poulter

 

‘Let it Snow’.

‘Huh?’

She wasn’t listening and time was catching up with us.

‘The words on the page’ I muttered.

‘Huh?’

‘Soli, darling!’

She looked up, surprised, golden hair and fiery eyes. ‘Sorry. Did I miss something?’

I turned the pigeon around, in case feathers hid a further note. Nothing.

‘Three words, Soli, nothing more. Let it snow.’

‘It’s famous!’ she laughed, singing the much-loved song.

‘No, Soli,’ I interrupted. ‘I think it’s an instruction.’

‘Oh!’

Realisation dawning. The show would have to wait. She paused, then smiled.

‘Never mind,’ she said, ‘I’m even more dazzling on white.’

 

 

 

Christmas Pudding & Brandy Sauce  [Theme: Christmas Everyday]

By J.M. Langan

It had started as a bet down the pub, just a bit of fun. Money was put in a tankard behind the bar which John would win, if he had Christmas every day for one thousand days.

              Everyone knew John was pig-headed, but no one knew quite how much.

He put on weight and his skin became sallow and spotty. Christmas pudding and brandy sauce will do that.

On the thousandth day he lumbered into the pub, sweating from the exertion. The landlord handed over the winnings. John keeled over clutching his chest in agony,

 

 

 

 

Surprise   [Theme: Surprise, Surprise]

By Sue Davnall

I was shocked. In thirty years, Michael had never given a hint of a taste for the unusual. Whatever would our guests make of it? Beef instead of turkey I could live with. Sticky toffee sprouts sounded odd but I was prepared to give them a try. I was less keen on the idea of jam roly-poly sausages even if they had featured on Masterchef but I wasn’t going to be a party pooper. I did have to put my foot down, though, when Michael came downstairs in nothing but a Santa hat and frilly apron. Nudist Christmas indeed!

 

 

 

Star    [Theme: The Star]

By Louise Wilford

Who’d be top-of-the-tree this year?

The angel, bought from a high-end store in 1959 by Imogen’s mother, was a vintage beauty – white dress, feathered wings, gilded halo. Her Madonna smile suggested she knew a secret she didn’t intend to share.

The fairy was home-made, by Imogen, in primary school – a cardboard tube wearing a Barbie-doll tutu, with a ping-pong-ball head, pipe-cleaner limbs, and tissue-paper wings. Her hand-crayoned smile, wide and manic, made Imogen suspect her of being bent on Santacide.

Imogen smiled at her late-mother’s picture on the mantelpiece – and unwrapped the brand-new star she’d bought that afternoon.

 

 

 

What’s In A Name?      [Theme: The Star]

By Glen Lee

'We follow the star,’ said a king from the wings.

‘No. Follow Stella!’ Damian tormented his classmate.

Six-year-old Stella, a pillow under her skirt, kicked him.

‘Stella,’ Miss admonished. ‘Mary doesn’t kick shepherds.’

Seven-year-old Tommy, playing Joseph, led Stella onto the stage, towards the rickety stable, a bright star flickering above its cardboard roof.

The baby came. The kings came. The shepherds came. Presents were placed by the baby’s manger.

‘What shall we call the boy?’ Tommy whispered.

No whispering for Stella. ‘I’m calling him Baby Jimmy,’ she shouted defiantly at the audience. ‘After his Granddad.’

 

 

 

Let It Snow!    [Theme: Let It Snow]

By Sue Davnall

A toboggan!

For me?!

From Santa?

Can I take it out now?

When, then?

I don’t want Christmas dinner!

When will it snow?

 

Please let it snow, God! Pleeeeease!

I’ll be good all year, I’ll make my bed and tidy up my toys and I won’t be rude to Mummy and…

 

Don’t want to go to bed!

Can I take my toboggan with me?

Why not? Michael’s taking his Power Ranger to bed with him. It’s not fair!

 

Mummy, Mummy, Mummy! Look! It’s snowing! Lots and lots of lovely, lovely snow!

Can I go out? Please? Yeeeeah!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Snowman    [Theme: Let It Snow]

By Louise Wilford

The snowman stood on the moonlit lawn, hunched and sullen.

              Jess shuddered, shutting the drapes. In the sunshine, he’d seemed funny and cheerful, but now he was furtive, like an actor smoking a roll-up on his break.

              There was a sudden horrifying crash. She yanked open the curtains.

Something had smashed through the hedge. Fairy-lights sputtered among gaudily-wrapped parcels scattered over the snow. A red-faced, white-bearded man waved sheepishly from the remains of his sleigh.

Was that a reindeer’s nose poking over the fence?

The snowman’s decapitated head glared at her from beneath its battered fedora.

‘Oops!’ said Santa.

 

 

 

Enough Of A Good Thing?    [Theme: Let It Snow]

By Glen Lee

Seventeen-year-old Seymour found a job in the retail trade.

He settled very well into his new role of salesman. So much so that he finally opened his own Year- Round Christmas Shop.

He was never bored and constantly invented new projects. The electric train running on a shelf around the store? That was Seymour’s idea. The Naughty Elf-on-a-shelf? That was Seymour’s too.

 

Seventy-year-old Seymour retired and sold his Christmas Shop. He decided it was time to travel.

To Finland? Antarctica?

‘I’ve had enough of pretend ice and snow,’ he said. ‘The Bahamas, here I come.’

 

 

 

Surprise Surprise   [Theme: Surprise, Surprise]

By J.M. Langan

 

Bubbles in my tummy are fizzing and bumping and bobbing together, going up my throat. I put my fist in my mouth to stop the giggles. Mammy will be cross if she has to come up again, but Santy is coming and I’m going to get EVERYTHING I wished for.

              The giggles burst out; Jessie shushes me from the next bed.

              ‘Joesphine Rosaline Connolly, don’t you make me come up there!’

              My head is under the pillow. Eventually, I come out. The clock says eleven twenty-two. Santy will be here soon. I just…

need…

to…

                                                                                    stay…

 

 

 

 

Cost Conscious       [Theme: Surprise, Surprise]

By Ron Hardwick

‘Dad, I want ‘Football Manager 4’ for Christmas.’

‘It’s too expensive.’

‘Oh, Dad, Steve’s getting one.’

‘Son, when I was thirteen, we were dirt-poor, and I didn’t expect a decent present. You can imagine my surprise when I came down on Xmas morning to find a large box on the table.’

‘What was in it?’

‘A Meccano set. My dad bought it second-hand and painted every piece by hand. It took him weeks.’

‘Not as good as Football Manager 4, though.’

‘Oh, it was. He said later it cost five pounds. It was worth five hundred to me.’