December 2018 -- 75-word writing challenge

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Joshua Jones

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#41
The Red and Green Eyed Monster

He’s mine now, I tell you.

He wanted to be mine. Wasn't happy standing beside an inflatable nativity. Really, who puts a limited edition Rudolph blow mold beside a crass inflatable?

The Robinsons did.

I tried being reasonable. I told them he wasn't happy. They did nothing.

So, I brought him to my yard. I hid, waiting, knowing the Robinsons would come. Their blood danced when I set it free.

He’s mine now, and happy.
 

Tisiphone

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Love reading - Tolkein especially. Also John Grish
#42
Big Black Boots To Fill

Near to tears, Nicky touched his wind-burnt face, icy fingers torturing his skin.

Bloodied hands gripped Starlight’s reins tightly.
Lost on their inaugural flight; who was training who?

Touchdown on snow-laden ground.....through blistered, stinging lips he whispered “hungry......tired.... need......breather....one more minute .... must get to... lights....can’t let anyone down.....”

“We’ve another 40years training before stepping into fathers shoes....”
 
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Prime Evil Soup
#43
Braaaaaaaaaaaaiinn-deer

Rudolph, the brain-fed reindeer,
Had a zombie's taste for brains,
And if you ever saw him,
You would hear him say, "Braaaaaaaaaiiinnss".

All of the other reindeer,
Used to laugh and call him names,
They never let poor Rudolph,
Anywhere near their reindeer brains.

Then one foggy Christmas Eve,
A necromancer came to say,
"Rudolph, with your soul a-blight,
Won't you guide my slay tonight?"
 
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Joined
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Maine, USA
#44
Aurora Borealis

On the night of the winter solstice, the reindeer gather. Soft pelts meet shoulder to shoulder as they form a circle, velvet antlers knocking in greeting. Light and color shimmer with each new touch: cerulean, magenta and chartreuse. Noses point skyward and plumes of white breath stream into the night as their lowing calls the colors to intertwine and effervesce into the frigid air, lighting the solstice aurora against the darkest night once again.
 

Mad Alice

From Earth; Mad House of the Universe
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#45
For In Cold We Wept

On the longest night, in bitterly cold darkness Earth's children cried out, "Return, Sun"
She heard.
Taking the sleeping moon under her skin,
so luminous she swept through the skies.
Her flight, through clouds of stars on Solstice night.
To bring the Sun's fire home.

Through the dark we see her.
The Deer Mother.
The cauldron of sunrise held in her antlers.

As she scatters the night, awakening the earth and seeding spring.
 
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The Judge

Truth. Order. Moderation.
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nearly the New Forest
#46
Sleigh Belle’s Slain

Dear Missy La Renne, self-styled Star of the Sleigh. You of the caramel-coloured skin, and legs to die for. You who took pole position in Santa’s team. My position.

Not any longer, ’cos I’m King of the Sleigh, and my reign ain’t over.

“Rudolph,” says Santa. “Missy’s missing. I need you to lead the sleigh.”

I’m good at sleighing. As a king, you have to be. That’s what it means to reign, dear.
 

Perpetual Man

Tim James
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#47
Origins.

Dying in the snow.

Wind flurries, twisting flakes into abstract patterns, catching winter light, sparkling.

He reached out, frost-bitten fingers clawing toward the nexus of the storm. Colours coalesced, forming a shape: of light. Of sound. Of colour. The wind becoming a song of resonance and transcended beauty.

Antlers of gold blazed upon a body of light.

“Live.” A voice of wonder.

“Rise.”

Nicholas rose and his story, his life began again.
 

TheDustyZebra

Aspiring notaphilist
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#48
One Foggy Christmas Eve


“I’m ten, Grandpa; I know reindeer can’t really fly.”

“I was ten, the year Christmas didn’t come. The penguins pulling Santa’s sleigh got lost.”

“Penguins can’t fly, either, Grandpa. And they live at the South Pole.”

“All penguins used to fly. And they lived up north. But Santa was so mad that year, he banished them to Antarctica. And he decreed that no penguin would ever fly again. That’s how the reindeer got the job.”
 

Ursa major

Bearly Believable
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England
#49

The Christmas Spirit is Missing

“Stand still,” said my lawyer, a rather rude elf.
“What’s the charge?” the judge asked.
“Stealing Santa’s brandy,” said my lawyer.
“How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?”
“Not guilty, I said. Santa will have mislaid it. I’m only here because I have a cold, and so my nose is red.”
“Silence in court!”
I bridled. “Won’t you listen to my defence?”
“This isn’t your trial,” said the judge. “You’re only being arraigned here.”

 
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