Welcome to the Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is to use these words in a story or poem: star, pine bough, glass bulb, mistletoe. (There is one more word we must use, but Cathy will reveal that mystery at the end of the story.) This week’s contribution, “The Christmas Wreath,” comes from Cathy MacKenzie.
Just in time for Christmas, check out Cathy’s new publications.
(1) Children’s picture book, BAD, BAD GRANNY, available on Amazon, in print (in two sizes: 6×9 and 8×10) and e-book:
(2) Volume 4 of the “Creepy Christmas” series of books, CREEPY CHEERY CHRISTMAS, available on Amazon (print and e-book) and Smashwords (e-book):
The Christmas Wreath
Ellie skipped along the path and came across her mother. “What are you doing, Mum?”
“I’m making a Christmas wreath. You arrived just in time.”
“Those are such pretty ornaments. I love the glass bulbs, so colourful. But green is my favourite, and you don’t have any green.”
“Green’s my favourite, too, but green bulbs aren’t as striking on pine boughs. These reds and whites will be beautiful, especially when the light hits them. I’m lucky I was able to scavenge these.” Mother examined the pile of bulbs. “Do you think they’re too big?”
Ellie scanned the bulbs and the pile of fresh boughs. “The pine branches are big, too. It’s all in the proportion, isn’t it?”
“I do believe you’re right. Can you help me lift them? If you take one end, I’ll take the other.”
Ellie and her mother grasped one of the boughs. “One, two, three—heave,” Mother said.
Mother and Ellie managed to move the boughs onto the makeshift table.
“I need to shape the wire into a circle. Hold here.”
With Ellie’s help, Mother formed the wire into a large circle. Together they wove boughs around and around the wire.
Ellie pointed at some loose greens. “What’s this?”
Mother smiled. “It’s a kissing plant. I’m going to drag your father under it and kiss him to death.”
Ellie gasped. “To death?”
Mother laughed. “Not literally. I wouldn’t do that.”
She examined the half-finished wreath and sighed. “This is going to be big, isn’t it? Your father will have to help hang it.”
Ellie and her mother finished the wreath, which did indeed turn out larger than Mother had planned, certainly the largest wreath Ellie had ever seen.
When Father arrived home, he said he’d round up several friends to help. “You outdid yourself,” he said.
Mother blushed and bowed.
Father left, soon returning with three friends. Carefully, they managed to transport the wreath to where Mother wanted it. “There,” she pointed. “Hang it in the centre. And make sure the bow is even and the ribbons hang straight.”
The four males grunted and groaned but hung the wreath as Mother had instructed.
After Father’s friends left, Father, Mother, and Ellie gazed at the wreath positioned perfectly on the trunk of a large oak tree. The sprig of mistletoe dangled from the centre of the crisp, red bow. The moon smiled upon the bulbs, making them glisten and glow like electric lights. A lone star twinkled in the distance.
“Is that the star of Bethlehem?” Ellie asked. No one answered. Mother had already grasped Father’s hand and was leading him closer to the tree.
Ellie averted her eyes while they kissed. Not wanting to wish her life away, she’d only ever dreamt of a fellow elf to love. Her time would come soon enough.
She glanced back at her parents, who had broken away from their embrace.
“Merry Christmas!” Ellie shouted. “And a Happy New Year!”
***(Have you guessed the mystery word? Scroll to the bottom.)***
The Spot Writers—Our Members:
RC Bonitz: http://www.rcbonitz.com
Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Tom Robson: website in progress