He’d nibbled fingertips and the occasional toe, but he awoke Christmas morning to an entire arm dangling over the bed.
Yes! There was a Santa Claus.
But as the monster relished the impending feast, fit for the most discerning palate, little Bobby snorted and rolled over, dashing his Christmas dreams.
Because Alison and every sleeping child knows that only dangling arms and legs are fair game for the monster under the bed.
“I need to see you,” he says, phone denting his cheek.
She swallows, hard. That “sucking on a penny” taste.
20 minutes later, he rings her doorbell.
“Your dad is dead,” he says, no warmup.
“Oh thank God. I was afraid you were going to tell me you’re leaving me.”
Anne Gudger is a Portland writer who has been lucky to have words in Real Simple Magazine, The Rumpus, Slippery Elm, and more. In November 2017 Anne won two contests: Hippocampus and New Millennium Writings. She lives with her sweet husband, and their grown kids and kid-in-laws live not far.
His wingless angel protests, “You won’t like it,” but Derrick insists.
In the world in which he’d never been born, his parents haven’t divorced, his wife married Ryan Gosling, and the Beatles are all alive and still together.
“Nothing’s worse without me?” asks Derrick.
“Fruitcake still sucks,” his angel offers.
Tony Jasnowski teaches English at Bellevue University and is sure that we’d all be one step closer to living in Pottersville if 50-Word Stories didn’t exist.
Millions of microbes live symbiotically on every body, but this particular infestation was way out of control. Gaia had tried shaking them off, drowning them with strong showers, even killing them with heat, but through it all they persisted.
Finally, she stopped spinning and watched them float off into space.
Nathan Alling Long’s work has appeared in over 100 publications most recently in Manhattanville Review, Mud Season Review, and The Journal for Compressed Creative Arts. His collection of fifty flash fictions, The Origin of Doubt, was released in Spring 2018 by Press 53.
For today’s reunion, Gerald dresses in college jeans with church newsletter photos and clipped obituary in his backpack.
“Uncle Bill, remember me, Gerry? Auntie said you’d moved. I brought some photographs of the family to share with you.
“Your antiques are beautiful. Did Auntie tell you my hobby’s restoring furniture?”
Kim Favors writes from California’s coast.
Santa’s moved with the times and now receives millions of emails from the world’s children. He’s overjoyed to find the Christmas Spirit still thriving in some hearts:
“Dear Santa,
“Please deliver my brand new smartphone to my best friend, Lucy, whose own phone is so yesterday.
“Thanks, Jenny (age 7)”
John B. Sinclair is a much-travelled Scot who has now returned to Scotland, where he enjoys freelance writing on a variety of subjects.
Just look at all of the different soft shades of green!
His van was a garden shed on wheels, full of baskets, gloves, tools, and a Folger’s coffee tin with a roll of toilet paper.
Never had to use it, but it sure was comforting to know it was there.
Rosemary is a retired nurse who enjoys gardening.
“I’m fat,” Chris told his mirror image, clutching his paunch. “Diet in the new year, Mary.”
Another year passed. His resolution lacked resolve.
“Oh Chris,” Mary soothed. “That’s why the children and I love you.” She tugged his beard towards her and kissed him. “Santa is supposed to be cuddly.”
Mark Towers writes children’s books, short stories and poetry.
Jim lived with Uncle Roy and Aunt Millie. Once he confronted Millie about a rumour he’d heard. “They say Santa isn’t real, and my presents from him are really from Roy.”
“Honestly, Jim,” said Millie. “D’you think I’d let Roy spend that much on you?”
Jim believed for another year.
Thomas A. North lives in rural Ontario, Canada. He has many relatives, and is owned by a grey and white cat.
He’d taken this route every year. Nothing like this ever happened before. Guy came out of nowhere.
The reindeer were fatter this year so they blocked his view.
Opening his hip flask, he studied the splatter on the road.
Nobody believed in him anyway. Better go before witnesses turn up.
Joey does not and never did believe in the existence of Santa.