Christmas Drabble Competition 2024
The winners of the competition are as follows:
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In the Bleak Midwinter
by Sue Davnall
[Theme: In The Bleak Midwinter]
‘Alright, boys - and…’
Nicholas
raised his hands, signalling the organist to begin. Thirty-two shiny-faced
choristers in their red and white robes poured forth the comforting harmonies
of In The Bleak Midwinter. The church was dark beyond the chancel, and
it was bitingly cold. It seemed to Nicholas that among the pink and eager faces
he saw the pale ghost of the boy he once was, broken with fear and humiliation.
He’d left that behind him now. How sweetly young George was singing; Nicholas
smiled at him warmly; the boy avoided his eye. Never mind – later.
☕
Failure
by Ron Hardwick
[Theme: Villains, rogues, rascals]
The moon hangs low,
casting eerie shadows across the cobbled street. A masked figure slips out of
the darkness and approaches a house in the grandest part of town. His eyes
gleam in anticipation of a splendid haul of emeralds and other valuables.
Swiftly, silently, he opens a kitchen window and climbs in. A startled scream
echoes through the house, followed by the sound of scuffling footsteps. A
crash, a thud, and our daring thief lies unconscious at the feet of a woman,
clad in a dressing-gown and curlers, who has used a substantial china vase to
great effect.
Christmases now
by DHL Hewa
All seven Aunties had duties.
Aunty Asencia opened her home to the twenty four of us.
Aunty Bunty flounced in with fresh turkey from her farm.
Aunty Chandra, organic vegetables grown in her small holding.
Aunty Dilipa created cake, wrapping slices in decorative silver
paper, filling the house with aroma. Brandy, spice, marzipan.
Aunty Eromi’s table decorations, envied by many.
Aunty Geetha provided the ceiling high fir tree.
Aunty Lakmini usually bounced in with balloons, but this year,
entering with Easter eggs, she became confused when questioned.
Our clue that Christmases, now, were going to be very different.
In the Bleak Midwinter
by Glen Lee
[Theme: Bleak Midwinter]
‘So much for global warming,’ Dad said, closing the curtains tight,
against the second day of the Beast from the East snowstorm.
No one
answered. He’d been saying nothing else since the family was snowed in. They were all thoroughly fed
up.
Jake with
bored with his family,
with game playing, with his mother fussing and his father cussing.
With no phone
signal, Sally had been out of contact with her friends, ‘For weeks. It’s so not
fair.’
No satellite
signal, no broadband.
Outside, the
kitten, Sally’s forgotten Christmas present, cold, dying, cried in the dark.
No Christmas trifle
by Chrissie Poulter
[Theme: The Holly and The
Ivy]
Time for Harry’s homemade crackers and the threat of a
garish paper hat clashing with her carefully chosen outfit. Pull. Laugh. Pick
up the pieces. No crack (mustn’t upset the pets), followed by relief - a silver
paper crown and something wrapped in a note. The crown atop her head, Ivana
gasped. No Christmas trifle this. A gold ring. Sparkling green and red stones.
Harry knelt beside her as she read.
‘H is for Holly and Harry, it’s true,
and if your name is Ivy, then he’s the one for you.’
‘Well?’ he said
‘Done – you darling!’
Aunties to
the rescue
by Sue
Davnall
[Theme:
Aunties]
There was Auntie Edwina on her Dad’s
side, then Auntie May and Auntie June on her mum’s (who was April, of course).
Widows, the lot of them, and tolerated rather than welcomed round the family
Christmas table. A litany of ailments, disputes with neighbours, fallings out
with the GP’s receptionist – hardly a kind word for anybody. But when April was
diagnosed with the Big C,
who was it who rallied round the family - doing the shopping, bringing round
meals, taking the kids to the cinema to give her some rest time? Angels in
M&S tweed.
Despair
by Ron Hardwick
[Theme: In The Bleak
Midwinter]
The wind howls, a
mournful dirge against frozen window panes. Inside the house, a lone figure
huddles by a dying fire, her breath misting the air. A book lies open on her
lap, its pages filled with uplifting moments she will never experience. She
recalls the incident; the irate shopkeeper, the police cell. A single tear
traces a path down her cheek, a silent reminder of what winter wrested from
her. The last ember of fire flickers and dies and despair washes over the
woman, as she recalls the hunger, the desperation, the recklessness, the final
fall from grace.
Aunties
by
Glen Lee
[Theme: aunties]
Before the best man’s speech, barely hidden by a Christmas tree,
Aunt Louie sprinkled snuff onto her wrist, sniffed long and loud, her sneeze
strong enough to rock her back on her heels.
‘Bloody hell.
That were good,’ she said, then shouted at the barman about the price of his
ale.
Aunt Ivy,
round, cheerful, glugging a seasonal large gin with a touch of advocaat, was
full of scorn for my Mam, the non-drinking sister. ‘She’s too damned uptight
for her own good.’
‘Thank
goodness you’re not like them,’ my new husband commented.
How I wished
that was true!
The Holly and the Ivy
by Ruth Loten
Holly and Ivy had been best friends
since they were born in next-door beds on Christmas Day. Inseparable at
pre-school, they made it through primary and secondary, Ivy always trailing in
Holly’s wake, wide-eyed with adoration. So it came as a shock to everyone when
Holly returned home on her last day before they left for Roehampton, wet and
bedraggled, with no sign of her faithful friend. When Ivy’s family called with
the news her body had been found in the river, Holly burst into tears.
‘She
wouldn’t,’ she sobbed loudly. ‘She wouldn’t leave me.’
☕
Holly and Ivy
by Sue Davnall
[Theme: The holly and the ivy]
Legend has it that back in the 1860s two young
village girls went into the woods to look for Christmas foliage and were never
seen again. The villagers mounted a search, of course; they went out every day
for a month. Christmas was a sombre affair that year.
By
a strange coincidence, the girls were called Holly and Ivy. Since that day,
neither plant has been tolerated within the village boundaries. But if you
follow the winding path into the depths of the woods you’ll find a clearing
where both holly and ivy grow in glorious profusion.
☕
Mavis
by Ron Hardwick
[Theme: aunties]
Auntie Mavis always has
a pocketful of surprises. When she visits the children, they shriek with
unrestrained joy. She arrives with a bag full of treats: homemade fudge,
licorice allsorts, sherbet dabs, and mysterious gifts hidden under layers of
wrapping paper. Her tales of faraway lands, heroic deeds, fantastic villains,
recounted without a hint of exaggeration, fascinate the children.
‘Tell us another one, Auntie, please, the one about the one-eyed
sailor and the buried treasure.’
‘Only if you’re good, and ready for bed.’
Auntie Mavis makes ordinary days extraordinary; she is a true
enchantress, with a heart of gold.
☕
The Aunties
by Ruth Loten
[Theme: aunties]
They were always watching him. Neil
could feel their beady-eyed glare every time he left the house. Curtains
twitching, they studied him through smeared glass. Their constant observation
gave him the creeps.
Across the street, Ethel scratched her
nose with a dirty fingernail and sniffed.
‘He’s off out again,’
she told Gladys. ‘Maybe we’ll invite him in tomorrow.’
Gladys had always
been the quiet one of the two, but these days she was positively mute. She
could do with a shower, too, Ethel thought. She was starting to smell.
In the chair, Gladys gazed stiffly through unseeing eyes.
☕
The Holly and the Ivy
by Lin De Laszlo
Holly and Ivy, neighbours since forever, sworn enemies
for reasons long forgotten.
Ivy, cold and miserable, hated Christmas.
Holly was warm and had her tree up before anyone else.
Neighbours anticipated their fallouts with
interest.
Snow fell heavy overnight, and early
morning saw a snowman with the biggest carrot nose residing in Holly’s garden. Ivy’s
curtains twitched furiously.
The following morning Holly threw open
her door and stepped into something cold. Looking down, there could be only one
reason why her snowman’s head was on her doorstep. Minus the carrot.
Ivy decided on a casserole.
What a wonderful collection of stories. Who'd have thought 100 words would breed such creativity. Thank you all. xxxx
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