When Conrad Hamilton decides to spread the "truth" on Christmas Eve, he gets the surprise of his life.
Yes, Conrad, there IS a Santa Claus -- and boy, is he pissed!
This is the Poll/Voting page for the December 2011 BigCloset Christmas Spirit Story Contest. Please vote for your favorite stories below. You may vote for as many as you wish, but please only vote once.
Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus ... but he's not quite what you might expect. Meet Nick D'Angelo, a very different Father Christmas, and his two elves, Gino and Paulie.
This is a sequel to the short story "Midnight Mass," published at BCTS on December 27, 2010 at 6:33am CST.
James had attended Midnight Mass at the Cathedral on Christmas Eve en femme a year ago. After that, he presented himself to his parents as Jamie for the first time. So what has happened to him—or her—since then? Tonight James attires himself as Jamie for Midnight Mass once more.
The BigCloset TopShelf Christmas Elves have come together to create a prize pool of presents to the top 4 authors who enter and win this month's contest! The prizes ARE:
1st Place $100, 2nd Place $75, 3rd Place $50, 4th Place $25!
Revised Note! You have until 7 am PST Sunday Jan 1, 2012 to enter your submissions!
Too much going on for New year's Eve for me to organize the voting setup tonight.
My brother Greg has had a sadness about him for longer than I can remember, especially at Christmas. It's only recently that I've begun to suspect the reason for this, and now I have a plan to reach out. It means taking a risk, and that scares the shit out of me, but I think that if I can give him the right present this year...
Christmas Eve Day and there were still a lot of people doing their Christmas shopping or picking up thing that they had forgotten. The shopping centre was busy just as it was on normal day, except that is for one one small corner were a Santa`s Grotto was situated. The girls dressed as elves and a rather large man dressed as Santa Claus. The queues were long and noisy and the parents were in line with their youngsters after paying whatever the amount was to see Santa.
Christie made her way to the eighth floor of the Cancer wing with a sense of dread and a heavy heart. Dr. Fischer had called her that afternoon and told her that she needed to get there to see her mother as soon as she could. The cancer had spread to her liver and pancreas and she only had a short time left. She stepped into her mother's room where she was greeted with the all too familiar sounds of the monitors beeping. Her mother looked like she was asleep, but then as Christie approached her mother replied weakly"Hello dear, It sure isn't the way to spend Christmas Eve is it?"
I’m sitting in the window at the local café here up in this place called Harbor Springs. I so don’t belong in a place like this. I mean I’m sort of starting to get used to these things I guess. But this is Adam territory, Well April’s from up near here but this is a resort town, they call it that themselves and it looks like, well nothing I‘ve ever known. I‘m not used to streets like these people smiling and all happy like Prozac is in the water. It‘s brick sidewalks and decorations and nice cars and houses and cottages that run very likely into the millions….still very much Adam’s turf.
The Hampton’s for Michigan.
We’re up here to see someone though I never thought that I’d see ever again. My maternal grandparents. I scratch absently at my bra there ought to be a handbook for being a girl y’know. I could’ve used a whole chapter of … “So, you’re growing boobs.” Uhm here’s one, the breast cream for itching isn’t all that effective once you’re nervous and sweating, it rubs off. Here’s another one I didn’t really even think about breasts…sweat.
And itch and hurt and need to be adjusted every once in awhile.
I don`t know what happened, one minute I was lying in a stinking cellar with a couple of broken ribs, arm and leg and several stitches in my head thanks to my ever loving parents and the next I`m living a totally different life.
I might be better if I explained what happened over the last couple of days.
It was mid November and Mum was in the Mental ward of the local hospital suffering from severe depression, she had been expecting and a couple of weeks before the birth had miscarried. She had been over the moon until then as she had been due to have a daughter, a big change for her after having three sons.
I was walking pass the local church of some village miles from nowhere, the service seemed to have just started and being cold,tired and hungry I went inside hoping at least at to get some warmth into my body.
Synopsis: A revisionist history of Christmas 1983, the way it should be as a young seven year old boy I am given the opportunity to explore my true self.
PART 3
Geoff explained our idea, with Eric’s help. The former looked across to me, frowning.
“I only learned some of this to try and keep up with Steph. If it’s talking about bits of bikes, I’m fine. This is something else”
Janet came in at that point, and Pat took her aside, putting away his mobile. I watched her face as he spoke, and each little nugget of Roland’s story led to a definite reaction on her face, culminating in an expression I found deeply scary. I had had my doubts about Janet’s agenda when we first met, but she had proven true to her declared position, and the change in Pat’s mood had been profound. This was something new from her; this was rage. She caught my gaze, and her jaw set. There was a sharp nod, an affirmation of our common cause, and she was gone again. Pat returned to the table.
PART 2
I had to remember that this was a parish church, not a private chapel, as the pews filled with people I not only didn’t remember but actually didn’t know. Simon was in full vicar-mode, in cassock and collar, and his fiancée had managed to snag a corner of the choir stalls so as to be as near to him as possible.
The bastard dog was sat right on my chin, and even though most of his body was on my chest his smelly rear was just under my nose, tail swishing across my face. Jim’s voice filtered through the black and white fur that blocked my vision.
Christmas always made me think of Charlie…
It was that time of year again; that time of year the last week before Christmas when everyone else around me was busy thinking of what last minute gifts to buy for whom. What sales to hit for the best bargains what parties to go to. Me, I mostly thought of Charlie…
Author’s note: As those of you who are always good enough to read my offerings (and some of you even better for paying for them :) you will know that most of my work relates to nice people often placed in adverse circumstances. My trademark is goodness, justice and mercy prevails, or at least just enough to give us a happy ending. This time I have tried something different, with not so pleasant people in, well, I suppose the only description could be shitty circumstances.
Does it have a happy ending?
Read it and judge for yourselves (assuming more than one person reads it, that is.)
Please note, the dialogue is undertaken in a Scottish accent, so please bear that in mind and dinna (EXAMPLE) pick me up for spelling and grammar, as I’ve tried to write phonetically where appropriate.
I saw her standing forlornly in the corner of the store, her price marked as “half-off”, and I simply had to bring her home. She was a Christmas lawn ornament, a life-size announcing angel with trumpet ready to blow, lit up in pink in honor of breast cancer research.
I put brought her home, and set her in my tiny front yard, and then went inside. I was all alone now, and felt desperate for company, so at the start or at the finish of every day, I found myself sitting on my front step, talking to my new guest.
Checks can be made out & sent to:
Joyce Melton
1001 Third St.
Space 80
Calimesa, CA 92320
USA
Note: $6000 is the operating, maintenance and upgrade budget. Amounts received in excess of the $6000 will be applied to long term debt accrued over the last 19 years.
