The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword discussion
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December Contest Application!!
Mod
Maybe long but absolutely incredible. It was sad but very well-written.
~I enjoyed reading it, made me tear up at the part where the person could not save their mom too. Nice story!
Very well-written; the emotions this piece holds are good enough to make someone glue their eyes to the screen.
Mod
Got a short story idea while watching a music video. The concept would end beautifully with this sentence. I have no idea how long it will be, or when it will be done, so no promises on it even being submitted. I will post it somewhere when done, though.
No. Thank YOU Miss Kggelen. It's going to take all day to pick up the jaw I dropped.
Why did the chicken cross the road?Why?
To get to the North Pole.
Why?
So Santa could have some chicken soup.
Why?
Because Rudolph was sick.
Why?
He had to work in rein, sleet, hail & a snowstorm.
Why?
Because Santa's a sleigh driver.
Why?
Because he didn't want to be a truckdriver.
Why?
Because Mrs. Claus didn't think that was a sexy job.
Why?
Because the missus is a snob.
Why?
Because she was raised richer than Scrooge.
Why?
So Scrooge could say "Bah, humbug" the next time he saw her (they're neighbors, of course).
Why?
Ebenezer needed to escape his old neighborhood because it was haunted by some ghosts.
Why?
Ghosts have too much time on their hands & nothing better to do.
Why?
So they can bug little children who won't go to sleep & won't stop asking why.
ZZZZZZZ.
Thank God, it's about time! And that's why I know everything happens for a reason, even if I have to make the reasons up.
WHY, thank you, ms. katie true.I was so sad when you wrote about a heart so beautifully & painfully shattered, that I thought I would lighten things up a bit. Laughter is the best medicine :)
Seriously, though, I truly believe everything happens for a reason (no matter how random or crazy it might seem).
Thanks, Sarah. Nothing makes my day more than when my 4 yr old niece will NOT STOP ASKING ME WHY!!! lol
Yikes, if only I was as wise as you already are at such a young age (I was thirteen only about a hundred years ago :)Write on, Kggelen: you've already got the talent & the best is yet to come for you but man, do I feel old right about now ^_~
Kggelen, I read the whole thong now and it's beautiful! I know you don't know me personally, none of you do, but this is deep. Makes me wonder why things happen for the reasons they happen :')Carrie, that was funny read=)
To Myself, think Numey, think of reasons!, XD
Here's mine:I learned that people are meant to stay on the ground at a very young age. But that didn't stop me from dreaming.
A few years back, I decided to jump off the roof.
It really wasn't such a crazy idea. I knew that birds could do it, so why couldn't I?
'Borrowing' the ladder was simple. Climbing up it was simple.
The flying part? Not so simple.
I stood there, taking it in. The fresh air, the cool breeze kissing my skin, the sun rising off to the side. I could totally imaging soaring through the clouds with the birds way up there.
It was calling to me. I had to go.
I backed up, ran with all my might... and jumped.
As I fell, I realized I WASN'T FLYING! I COULDN'T FLY!!!
Uh-oh.
I screamed the whole way down. I braced myself for the painful impact.
I waited, my hands over my eyes. Nothing happened. A dog barked, somewhere far away.
I opened my eyes.
I had somehow performed a mid-air 180° loop off the ground, and was shooting past the treetops! I WAS FLYING!!!!!!
I whooped at the top of my lungs and spun in circles.
Then I crashed into a tree.
I sat bolt upright, rubbing my head. I looked around. I was in my bed, in my bedroom, on the ground.
That was when I realized that everything was normal. I couldn't fly.
But, wait! What were these things on my back? They were warm and feathery and pretty uncomfortable to lay down on.
My grin almost split my face in half. I sat up feeling my new wings.
And that's why I know everything happens for a reason.
Author: PreetiTitle: I don't want to go to college!
I loved meeting new people, small talking with random strangers but living with total strangers in a new environment was a bit appalling even to me. Well, that's college in a nut shell for you.
I waved bye to my parent and slung my backpack over my shoulder and dragging the ginormous suitcase behind me into my new room. I was eager to meet my new roommate but kind of scared to. What if she's not my type? I didn't want to live with a girl I didn't get along with for the next four years.
We got talking as she helped me set up my half of the room. She didn't seem to bad but only time would tell. We spent the next two hours literally staring at each other from opposite ends of the room. The friendship wasn't going to happen overnight and both of us seemed convinced of it.
During our little stare off, another girl entered the room and went to sit on my roomie's bed. She introduced herself as Magha. Apparently she was an old aquantaince of my roomie.
"I having trouble with my roommates again. They are so frustrating." Magha said to my roomie, completely ignoring me.
"Oh great. She was a snob who couldn't adjust with anyone!" I thought to myself
"Maybe we could go talk to them and sort things out." I suggested trying to help.
"Ya. We could try that." seconded my roomie.
Magha looked at both of us skeptically and then shrugged. "I guess it wouldn't hurt."
We went up to the 3rd floor and politely knocked on the door and waited for someone to open the door.
A little plump girl came and opened the door. She had a confused look on her face after seeing us.
"Hey! We're friends of Magha. Just thought we'd introduce ourselves to her new room mates." I said, trying to be my peppy self again.
" Um. Okay. Come in." she replied.
Inside the room was another girl. Medium built and tall. She seemed kinda snooty.
(I'm pretty sure most of you would've realized I form opinions about people way too soon.)
We tried being our crazy selves with Magha's roomies but nothing worked. We ended up becoming more frustrated than before! And all on my first day in college!
As the three of us stormed out of Magha's room, we knocked into her next door neighbors. Two girls. One petite and thin and the other one tall and thin.
(Yes, everyone I normally meet is thin.)
Anyways, it made way for introductions and before you know it, one thing led to another and we were all chatting comfortably sitting in their room. Apparently they had a problem with their third roomie too. What a coincidence right?
The next day, the two girls introduced us to another friend of their's. Her name was Pratiksha. And yes, her roomie was an official b****. Weird. Six of us united because of our roomies!
That was a triple coincidence. Very soon we were all hanging out often, meeting up after classes and huddling in one of the rooms, gossiping all night.
Almost six months have passed since that fateful day and we six are inseparable! All because I ended up in the room of a girl who had a friend who had issues with her roomies.
God works in mysterious ways.
I guess everything happens for a reason.
Barely looked through what I was typing so you'll probably run into tons of typos. This was actually my experience in college.lolz
I don't think that went too badly :).
Mod
I have a wandering submission, named 'What If There Were 40 Hours A Day?' =) I'll put it here soon (:
All of your writings are so good! I dont think I will be able to compete, but I will give it a go, not very good, but hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed yours. Name: Rachel R. Writing: The smell of freshly cut grass fills my nose. The soft laughter of children in the distance catches my ear, forcing me to turn towards the sound; there I see dancing under a willow tree, my younger sisters, twirling around like princesses as the wind blows through their hair, looking as though it is dancing with them. I turn away, clutching the letter in my hand, tears forming in my eyes. I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. That this was for the best, if only I knew it made everything worse.I hear Sarah, my youngest sister call over to me to come and play, I just walk away, listening to her call my name over and over again. I stare down at the letter in my hand and don’t look back; I keep walking until I can no longer hear her cries. I told myself it would be easier if I just left no goodbyes. That’s the only thing I regret, not being able to tell them one last time I loved them, I guess I figured that I would be coming back, or that I would see them again, I guess that’s another thing I was wrong about to.
It’s been two years since I left, I had to leave them, was the only way I could protect them. I sent a letter three weeks after I left, saying I went to live with grandma, that I couldn’t take it in that house anymore, that I couldn’t get on with Gary, our step-dad, and that I would visit. I didn’t put a return address so they never replied, never even tried to call, not once. Good thing too, since that was a lie. Two years he said, two years and he would be gone, two years and I could go back to my family. I believed him, I don’t know why, not after he killed my best friend, though to this day he still claims it an accident. That she killed herself. I believed him at first, until the letter arrived, the day I was supposed to leave, a letter from my friend, telling me the truth, I knew then I had to go with him, to save my family. She told me he tricked her into loving him, and that she was trapped, and that he was going to kill her family if she didn’t do as he said, for he was a murderer.
I arrive back in my home town, I don’t go home straight away, and I go to where I last saw my sisters. The willow tree is alone, the branches swaying in cool breeze of the summers wind. Something is wrong, I am sure if it. I walk slowly back to where my house was, only it was not my house, it was as if someone had knocked down my old home and built a new one, I drastically run to the neighbours, when they see me, they break down in to tears sobbing it happened the day I left, the house burned down, no survivors. I stumble backwards, shaking my head; tears roll silently down my cheek. I turn and run, ignore all the pleas and cries of the woman still crying and run to my last reaming memory of my family, I run to the willow tree. I fall down by the base and cry, cry for what seems like eternity, cry until I can no longer cry and only whimpers escape my lips, eventually I fall asleep, nightmares haunting my dreams. I awaken the next morning seeing the man who did this, the man who took me away from my family, the man who claimed he loved my best friend, this man who is no man, but a murderer, and here he stands before me, tall, dark hair, even darker, cold eyes, pale skin as though only touched by the sun once, he smiles at me, his white teeth shining in the light and simply says, “everything happens for a reason.”
Thank you, I didnt want to write to much, and I thought it was a good idea to leave some mystery in it.
Joy wrote: "Name: Joy Sydney WilliamsTitle: Julie's Message in a Bottle to her "Romeo"
Although Lily was only 10 years old, her questioning nature often got her into trouble; today was no different. After h..."
Beautifully written & how awesome would that be if it was based on a true story!
Sorry guys, I apologize in advance if this seems unseemly. This piece is going to be really depressing but I don't even mean it as a contest entry. I just need to blow off some steam because I'm still incredibly sad & sick-to-my-stomach mad about the Connecticut tragedy. This month's theme seemed somewhat appropriate:DOES everything happen for a reason?
Who actually believes that crap when you see the grieving parents and families of Sandy Hook?
What possible reason could matter in the mentally unstable mind of a madman, who killed his own mom, before going on a shooting spree?
Why involve all those innocents? Why not spare us the misery and just murder his own chickenshit self?
How can such evil exist?
Where can Newtown look to for answers after such bright lights have been taken from them?
When will this sickness end?
Maybe everything happens for a reason in a perfect world, but this world sure as hell is far, so very deadly and disgustingly far from perfect.
ℂᖺαᖇᒪἷ℮-ωα ⊰♡1017 & ♡ Tardis!⊱ wrote: "Awesome Rachael!"Thanks :)
Well, it kind of looks like Carrie and I had the same idea. So, I'm going to write this piece, but if you'd rather me take it down and do something else, I will. This was inspired by the horrible tragedy that took place on Friday in Newtown, Connecticut.Name: Leah
Writing:
How could this happen? Why did this happen? The questions have run through my head at least a hundred times. How can evil this great exist? Why does it exist? Why were these lives taken? They were so young, their lives stolen from them at the hand of a ruthless killer, a man who the world will never forget...and perhaps never forgive.
Did he think of the families? Somewhere, a mother cries for her dead child, asking where God was when her child was murdered. Twenty families pack away the presents that were meant to be their children's on Christmas morning, forever in storage, never to be played with. Never to be loved. Somewhere, a little brother or sister will grow up without their elder sibling. And someday, the parents will have to explain what happened. Where the mysterious children in the dated school pictures are. What happened to them. And they'll have to explain that they don't know why. Somewhere, an older sister or brother cries out, knowing that the same little brother or sister that they yelled at that morning for talking too much is dead. Gone forever, without a chance for final reconciliation.
Did he think of the children? Did he think of those who will forever live knowing that they saw their best friends die? That they heard their last screams? That their principal was killed as she attempted to protect them? The trauma induced is irreversible. These elementary schoolers are scarred for life.
Why has this holiday season, a time supposed to be happy, turned into a time of mourning. Why has this time meant to bring families together broken them apart?
It will go down in history. The question will circulate: where were you when you heard about Sandy Hook? What were you doing? How did you react? I was eating supper. And honestly, it didn't directly affect me until I heard it was an elementary school. A grown man has told me that it made him cry. We're relieved that it didn't affect us, that we or our children weren't killed. But think of those who it did affect. I can't imagine a world without my brother. This tragedy reminds me to thank God for him every day and love him more than the day before.
Who was killed in this shooting? Was it the doctor who would find the cure for cancer? Or diabetes? Or Alzheimer's? The world will never know...all because of a senseless, thoughtless, unforgivable excuse for a man.
These children had their lives ahead of them, to be lived to the fullest and to be enjoyed. All cut short by a gun in the hands of the wrong person.
I guess everything happens for a reason...but it'd better be a pretty darn good one.
This isn't very well written, but I had to get that off my chest.
Rachelle wrote: "Here goes nothing, this is also my first post and I haven't written for a while.The world outside my window is an unimpressive wet splatter of gray paint, dripping and staring back at me, equally..."
I like urs the best.
Leah wrote: "Well, it kind of looks like Carrie and I had the same idea. So, I'm going to write this piece, but if you'd rather me take it down and do something else, I will. This was inspired by the horrible..."Amen, sister! Words heal & so does music: The VOICE show had a very moving tribute, where all the coaches & contestants sang a beautiful rendition of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" in honor of the victims & survivors...
It's long, but here it is.Name: Jane
I awoke to the sound of snoring. This is what frightened me, this is what made it such a strange day. It started like this: I awoke to the sound of snoring. It wasn't a quiet little snore from across the room, no. It was someone screaming out a snore from the couch behind me. Now, you might not think that is so strange, but I live alone... The sleepiness wore off, and I jumped to my feet, ready to meet the creepy person who was asleep on my couch. However, before I could even get to my feet, a creepy little giggle came from beside the fireplace and my eyes darted through the dim glow of the fire. I was about to start my search, when the snore came again, this time even louder! Was I losing my mind?! I spun around, but only caught a flash of red, when the creepy giggle came again in my ear, and a blindfold was whipped around my eyes. My hands automatically flew up to rip it off, but my wrists jerked painfully against a rough rope securely wrapped around them. The next thing that happened didn't surprise me at all, why would it when all that was happening was flashing before my eyes in a matter of seconds, and that everything didn't make sense at all! What happened next was my feet flying out from under me due to a shove from behind. I squealed but found a gag wrapped around my mouth. Who were these creepy gigglers that moved so quickly? The thought was stopped as soon as it began, as a sharp pain burst into the darkness. Something had come into contact with my skull, and I was falling through space. How was it that I could fall so fast, but feel so sluggish? Was I ever going to hit the ground? Thud! I jerked awake, sitting up, but laid right back down as the sore spot on the back of my head caused a woosyness in my stomach, as well as a spinning in my head. Even the black behind my eyes was spinning, and I wasn't even brave enough to open them. “Get up!” A rough, but high pitched voice screeched rudely. It echoed in my ears, and added to my building headache. “I said get up!” It sounded again, this time accompanied with a hard jerk on my arm that pulled me off the bed and onto my feet. “Wha?” was all I could say before the thing starting pushing me out of the room from behind. By this time, the spinning hadn't ceased, though the headache was a little better. I decided that it would be best for me to open my eyes and risk the nauseousness. What my eyes let on to didn't really help me any more than my ears had. A low-ceilinged hallway lined by torches went past on either side, making me appreciate my short stature. In front of me was a red wooden door, but something made me think that the red wasn't a good thing. As we approached it, the door swung open from the inside. Past the doorway, a large room opened up, much like a court room. Stands full of little mutant people jeering rudely filled the whole room. What were they? Trolls? “Welcome to the court of the elves,” the voice said from behind me. Elves? Had I heard right? The rude elf left me standing in the middle of the room, then backed out as a door on the adjoining wall swung open. A large man dressed in a rough-looking red suit walked in. Brutish short men walked in from behind him carrying a strange, unidentifiable machine. I looked closer. The man was none other than... “Santa Clause!?” I said, bewildered at all that was happening. “We've been watching you!” He yelled furiously at me, “I knew when you were awake, and when you were asleep! You never decorated for Christmas, and you told kids not to believe! What all do you know?” He stopped with a finger hanging accusingly in the air at me, and I decided to respond. “What do I know? I'll tell you! I knew that you were either a big fake or just a crook who liked breaking in to people's houses and tricking people! Now I know that I was perfectly right!” I said back, just as rudely. He stayed silent for a moment, before turning to the crowd. “This girl has been accused and found to have been guilty of the worst crime!” He rumbled at the crowd. “Lock her up! Lock her up!” The crowd roared excitedly, and I stumbled back in fear. “Very well.” He turned to me and with a quick movement and strapped the strange contraption onto my head. That's the last thing I remember. Now, here I am, locked in this insane asylum, knowing the truth, but not able to spread it. The truth, as I have learned, is that Santa actually is a crook. He fell asleep on my couch in his attempt to rob me, and caught me so I wouldn't tell. Now, I know that everything happens for a reason, including the lies of Christmas.
That was great! I had a really scary nightmare kind of like this once.
And I was really young so it was extra scary!
that's horrible! My worst dream would be tied between when a bunch of my friends tore their faces off and they ended up being evil clowns who ate me, and the other is when I went to school and all my teachers locked me up in this little classroom then tore their faces off and they ended up being evil bugs who ate me... yeah, they were both similar, but I don't like masks, especially when they are clowns, or giant bugs, especially when they eat me. I have issues :).
Jane wrote: "It's long, but here it is.Name: Jane
I awoke to the sound of snoring. This is what frightened me, this is what made it such a strange day. It started like this: I awoke to the sound of snoring. It..."
ha. you know what, I told my sister that when she goes to work, AND I STAY SLEEPING, I totally hear snoring in my room. We used to share bedrooms when we were younger. I told her that but she didn't say anything. I didn't get scared though, I don't know why. My other sister did. I told her that next time I should record the snoring. That is when she freaked out saying that I should never do that. That I am giving what ever out there, a reason to haunt us more.
Good story. winner here.
i don't think i want to put my story in here now.
Emily wrote: "Jane wrote: "It's long, but here it is.Name: Jane
I awoke to the sound of snoring. This is what frightened me, this is what made it such a strange day. It started like this: I awoke to the sound o..."
Thanks! but seriously, you should put your story, I bet it'd be awesome! and about the haunting thing, I live on a hill over-looking the valley that a village of indians used to live on and this cheif has appraoched my dad, and these little kids have followed me around and tugged on my robe while I'm sweeping. I'm not scared, 'cause i know they're friendly, it's actually really cool.
Mod
I decided to enter, so here you go! Just a warning, this is about the saddest thing I ever wrote but I was sure that this would reflect the topic of this contest.Name: Sarah
Title: Reasons
I have always particuliarly despised Mondays. You have to drag yourself back to reality after the weekend. The word "hate" is an understatement for my feelings about Mondays. And yes, hate is a strong word.
It was a Monday. There had been a beautiful blanket of snow covering the ground this weekend but most of it had melted. Then the temprature had dropped again and we had a lovely bunch of ice.
Can I hold up a sarcasm sign for you?
My dad had already left for work early this morning and my mom was still asleep and I didn't want to wake her so I just decided to walk to school after I got ready. It wasn't a long walk anyway. I pulled on my coat and hat and soundlessly went out the door.
The sky was still streaked with sunrise, vibrant pinks and oranges painted across the beautiful blue. I started down the sidewalk towards the high school I attended. The streets were beginning to fill with life. The bitter cold bit at my skin and my fingers fumbled with the mittens in my pocket.
I crossed the street, walking slowly as to make sure I didn't fall on the ice.
((Not finished yet but I gotta go! More to come!))
Mod
I decided to enter, so here you go! Just a warning, this is just about the saddest thing I ever wrote but I knew that I had to write this and that this would reflect the topic of this contest.Name: Sarah
Title: Reasons
I have always particularly despised Mondays. You have to drag yourself back to reality after the weekend. The word "hate" is an understatement for my feelings about Mondays.
It was a Monday. There had been a beautiful blanket of snow covering the ground this weekend but most of it had melted. Then the temperature had dropped again and we had a bunch of ice. My mom was still asleep and I didn't want to wake her so I just decided to walk to school after I got ready. It was not a very long walk anyway. I pulled on my coat and hat and soundlessly went out the door.
The sky was still streaked with sunrise, vibrant pinks and oranges painted across the beautiful blue. I started down the sidewalk towards the high school I attended. The streets were beginning to fill with life. The bitter cold bit at my skin and my fingers fumbled with the mittens I had found in my pocket.
I crossed the street, walking slowly as to keep from falling on the ice. A small silver car, which had obviously been through a lot, screeched down the road and began to slow into a stop for me. I could hear the tires screaming, desperately trying to get a hold on the slippery ice. The breaks squealed, working with all of their strength to stop the old car. But they couldn't.
The last thing I saw before the world went black was the beautiful sky, dripped in orange and pink.
Now I'm in a vast gray fog of nothingness. There is no ice here. Nothing but the dark mist that swirls around me for miles. My body is clothed in a dress of the gray fog. I know that I am dead. I just know. My bare feet slowly explore this strange land. For some reason, I don't feel sad or hurt or angry. I feel nothingness.
Suddenly, the fog disappears and I am now in a room filled with people in dark clothing. No doubt I'm at a funeral. I have only been to a funeral once before. My father's. Now I am at my own.
There are people crying, sobbing, hugging. I step forward, walking through the people until I find my mom. My arms ache to wrap themselves around her in a big hug. Tears stream down her face and I realize I'm crying now too. I lift my hand to squeeze her shoulder but as soon as my fingers touch her, the scene fades away and I'm in my living room.
Mom lays on the couch. She is crying again. I can hardly imagine what she is feeling right now. I rush forward a kneel by her side, rubbing her back. “Mom,” I say, even though she can't hear it. “I love you. It's okay.”
The doorbell rings and she brushes past me to answer it. A man walked in holding a newspaper. “I am Steve Lane. I saw in the paper what happened,” he says. “My wife was killed in a car accident three years ago but I could hardly imagine what it'd be like to loose a child. I'm so sorry for your loss.”
I don't recognize the man. I don't even think my mom knows who he his either but he is kind enough to come to a stranger's house and give his condolences. My mom lunged forward and gave him a hug. The man only hesitated for a moment before returning the gesture.
The image fades, changing to a wedding. I have to look twice to realize the groom was Steve Lane. And my mom is the bride. She kisses him gently. I guess that one small act of kindness led to love. I can't help but smile because I am happy to see my mom is moving on.
Again, I am forced into another place. I am at a small house. I recognize the car instantly. It's the car that ended my life. I go inside the house where I see an older man pacing. He's crying, leaning on a woman's shoulder. “I took an innocent girl's life. How can I ever forgive myself?” he asks the lady.
The lady whispers something in the man's ear and gets up and leaves. He stands and goes out of the room for a second before returning with a rope. I know what his intents are. I can't let it happen.
I want the man to see me. I want him to know I'm not angry at him. I want to tell him that it wasn't his fault. It really wasn't his fault. It was the ice. If this was my last act, my last stand, I'd want this to be it.
“It wasn't your fault,” I say to him. Surprisingly, he looks up at me, startled. He sees me and I know he must recognize me. The man gives a grim smile. I see in his face he is not afraid.
“Thank you,” he says. And I disappear.
Now I am back in the gray mist, facing a tall, shimmering gate.
“Margaret,” a familiar voice calls, saying my name. I turn and see him, standing in a sunrise-colored suit. My dad. I smile and run to him. He hugs me. My father nods towards the gate and somehow, I know what this means. It's time to let go.
As we walk hand in hand towards the gate, I think about what I have seen. My death happened for a reason.
If I hadn't died, my mother would never have found Steve. She was already hurting from my father's death now me. Steve helped her scars fade.
Also, that man would have died if I hadn't spoke up. It really wasn't his fault I died and I know that. I didn't have to tell him but he would have taken his own life if I hadn't done my job to tell him the truth.
Most importantly, if I hadn't died, I know I would have never realized this. I lived and died, like everyone does. Why it was earlier than most, I haven't got a clue. But I do know this. Everything happens for a reason.
((FINISHED VERSION))
Stuti RaiTitle:And thus the bells jingled all the way as the T.A.R.D.I.S. moved through the Baracoua Bay.
Writing:
In the wintry glaciers of the Arctic, in the niches and abysses and fissures, where even the mighty panserbjørne(armored polar bears) refrain from entering lest the little annoying creatures with little bells on their green caps appear, a general riding of chaos is going on. the Santa helpers are scurrying about and messing with the reindeer. The reindeer are taking a bit of R&R after spending all most of the previous night prowling through the streets of Salem and Hartford(Santa's fave places- he likes to reminisce how he saved the poor Alice Young and other witches from being burned at the stake) in full ninja-stealth mode, which takes up a lot of energy no matter how many power bars and boosters you have in your backpack. The elves are exploiting their overbearing, obsessive-compulsive boss's temporary insanity as much as they can. They know that this relapse will not last long- this ain't the first time after all. He returns after going on crazy binges soon as he remembers that he has elves to drive into the snowy dirt with gift-making. Same goes for the reindeer. They might not have to fly during the rest of the non-X'mas year but they are the muscle of the company. The horned creatures are thinking of maybe flying to Hawaii this summer as Mr Claus will be too busy scolding and punishing the elves for lazing off while he was away to pay them much heed. Mrs Claus is preparing for the inauguration of her Snow Queen Spa and can't find her cookie detector. Now, she is madder than ever for she's just found a note from her shameless husband that he has taken it to root out all the home-made cookies from the store-bought. The monster Frankenstein is trace Sasquatch's Big FootSteps to his secret lair but "they are just too damn large for my magnifying lass to follow!" The Candy Canes are in a snafu, trying to bar the snowmen and women from getting to the the Gingerbread-man's house- the oven. It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world in the Arctic.
How this came to be, you wonder? Where the heck is Santa? Why is the that guy so grim?
Answer number three: That guy is so grim because he is dead and wearing a stupid hat.
Answer number two: Santa is hand-gliding in Rio.
Answer number one: For that I'll have to tell you a tale. A tale of the Doctor, outspoken flying lizards and a lazy elf.
***
4 days ago, while Santa Claus was on his merry way to buy some warm milk, whistling cheerfully after a particularly rowdy fight mild debate with Mrs Claus regarding his recently cultivated tendency to leave bugs in her underwear drawer, he was interrupted by the beauteous and majestic sight of a green-and-blue lizard flying against a backdrop of aurora sky. He stared and stared at the creature; and he saw that it was not so much flying as gliding. He looked upon it and it was revealed to him that he was disabled. For he had to depend on his over-excited reindeer for air-travel. There must be a disability in him for why would evolution teach a lizard such techniques- a beast that had no real use for it in the wider sphere of things- but not him- the Father Christmas, who had a cosmic obligation to the kids of the world? Instead, he had to depend on his beasts who could never remember the right routes and thousands of kids around the world were bereft of gifts every year. It was so unfair!
So he moved on, grumbling and cursing evolution and life in general when he was once again interrupted. But this time, it was a wayward elf who went by the name of Kazukto. this enraged Father Claus even further. Why was this elf rambling and ambling about when Christmas was only a few days later? He stomped over to the smirking elf, who was doodling with a candy cane in the dirt. But before he could say anything, the elf asked, "Why were you staring so dismayingly at Ikimbo the Flying Lizard?"
Santa, being very naive and not recognizing this very obvious attempt at changing the subject, thought that his helper must really be interested in his well-being and told him his reflections.
Kazukto, being very cunning and indolent, saw this perfect opportunity to get rid of Santa for a few weeks. And if some bratty kids didn't get a teddy, then so what? There's always next year. So he fished out his Ipad and connected it to the Net. Then he googled techniques of flying incorporated by adventurous humans and brought up a picture of a hand-glider, suspended thousands of feet in the air. Kazukto showed it to his boss, whose face experienced a range of expressions from confusion to enlightenment to disbelief to want-it-for-last-christmas in a few seconds.
Santa Claus forgot all about his moral and cosmic obligations to children and shook Kazukto until he spewed out the details of hand-gliding, reading out loud from his Ipad. Claus dropped Kazukto, who stared at him balefully, and was gone so fast that even the eyes of the elf couldn't follow him. But the eyes were not paying attention anyway; they were daydreaming about their newly obtained vacation. Kazukto smiled evilly and raised a hand in farewell to no one in vicinity.
When the news reached the main base, there was so much joy in the air. Various creatures tore the gift-wraps, destroyed the miniature cannon replica, murdered Barbies. Mrs Claus raced about trying to find red ribbons and a pair of scissors. And so it went on till the night of Christmas Eve.
The night before Christmas was a grim one. No one knew what to do. Santa was gone- who would deliver the toys now? No one could commandeer the ship but Santa. Beasts and objects alike brainstormed till one little Snowchild found the answer, which was the Doctor! Her exact words were,"We should call the Doctor and the T.A.R.D.I.S." After several heated discussions regarding the latest flavor of Gingerbread-man's buttons, it was agreed upon that the child, whose name was Raleyia, was absolutely right.
So they called upon the Doctor, joining hands and tails and screaming, "There's a monster I my bed!" till a blue box appeared in their midst. Actually that was just for show- Mrs Claus has a flair for the dramatic. While the iditots were doing their idiotic things, Raleyia fished out the Doctor's number and phoned him.
And the Doctor materialized for he could never resist Earthlings in distress.
***
So this year kids and adults alike, don't leave out cookies and milk but Fez's and bow-ties. And even if you didn't receive your gift today, know that someday best before the next X'mas, even if you didn't celebrate this one, The Doctor will appear in the night and present you with something wonderful because the T.A.R.D.I.S. does its timey-wimey stuff and it doesn't always function like The Docto want it to. I wonder what my gift would be?
You see, Santa vanished and gave us the Doctor. Makes me think sometimes that everything just might happen for our own good.
Oh no...I still haven't had the time to update this *shakes head*
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The prompt this month will be a final sentence. End your work with this sentence to be judged.
And the sentence is.....
...and that's why I know everything happens for a reason.
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