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    Enchanted Christmas
    Enchanted Christmas
    Enchanted Christmas
    Ebook54 pages1 hour

    Enchanted Christmas

    By Tricia Arnold

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    About this ebook

    Enchanted Christmas Short Stories and Poems by Patricia Arnold has four heartwarming stories of Christmas magic and adventure with a little humor added in. The author follows up her previous Christmas short story anthology, Christmas Poems and Short Stories with this collection of short stories written especially for 2021.

    In the first story, The Christmas Play, circa the late 1970's, a child is excited about being in the School Christmas play. A second story, The Magic Christmas Card features a reluctant Christmas time traveler who must decide if he should alter the past or follow his friend's advice. A third story, The Case of the Missing Christmas Tree is about a father's mission to determine what happened to their missing Christmas tree. Clues lead to the eccentric artificial tree manufacturer who produced it. The fourth story, Double the Recipe is a tale about an heirloom family recipe box capable of surprising things.

    These touching, at times humorous and enchanting stories will transform your Christmas story telling tradition. Includes two poems by the author, Christmas at Grandmas and Snow World.

    LanguageEnglish
    Publisher4 Oak Books
    Release dateNov 10, 2024
    ISBN9798227512192
    Enchanted Christmas

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      Book preview

      Enchanted Christmas - Tricia Arnold

      Enchanted Christmas

      Tricia Arnold

      4 Oak Books

      Enchanted Christmas

      Short Stories and Poems

      by Patricia Arnold

      Christmas at Grandma’s

      Gilded memories of Christmas,

      Grandma toiling in the kitchen,

      Recipe cards in hand.

      Mincemeat in a jar,

      Pumpkin in a can.

      Weathered stack of cookbooks,

      From the worn bookshelf.

      Ingredients in the pantry.

      Grandma makes happiness,

      From formulas for candy.

      Confections are imperfections.

      Embracing joys of failed fudge,

      On flawed sugar cookies I chew,

      Anise rock candy made too thick,

      Edible bending goo.

      Twisting lights with silver garland,

      Twirling around handrails.

      Humble little plastic ornaments,

      Modest little adornments.

      Wrapped with fuzzing sateen.

      Curious mincemeat pie,

      On the formica table.

      Wiggling joy of jello mold,

      Baked scent of warm ham,

      Eat some before it gets cold.

      Time capsule of wrapping paper,

      Prints from Christmases past.

      Plastic holly around the candle,

      Lit to always remember.

      Holiday village on the mantle.

      I am a child at Christmas.

      A view from time’s window.

      Shining holiday visions of old.

      Wondering where Santa lives,

      Not going to bed when told.

      Forget the hesitation!

      Forgive the presentation!

      Grandma’s in the kitchen,

      Making savory homespun dishes.

      From recipes old and new,

      Granting Christmas wishes.

      Chapter I. The Christmas Play

      I’m an author that writes about Christmas for a living. Here’s a random exercise. How many times can I type Christmas in a single sentence? At least four times each. Consider the next sentence, it will lead you to the story. Christmas seasons come and Christmas seasons go, but there is a Christmas season forty years in the past that remains a Christmas to remember. This is the only paragraph of such repetition, but I’m crossing my fingers as I promise (just in case).

      I like to use my entire vocabulary. My wordy letters used to drive my Polish great-grandmother crazy. She asked my mother how I knew so many big words and questioned if I truly knew what they meant. The short answer is I don’t recall if I knew how to use big words, but I’ve always loved writing them. My mother and aunt told me I used to sound out words on signs when I was two or three. That seems unlikely, doesn’t it? I don’t remember doing that, so I’ll have to take their word for it.

      Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s move on to the story. I didn’t begin my life as the sometimes introvert, sometimes extrovert I am today. I used to be much more outgoing. I was once chosen as the lead for the school Christmas play. I was tasked with narrating the story for the audience at our small, rural school. The topic of the play was the Nativity Story. 

      Since the requirement was that I had to learn my lines by heart, I spent weeks perfecting my first public speaking engagement. My schoolmates practiced their roles as Mary, Joseph and the three wise men. This wasn’t the time or place to forget my lines. Since A Charlie Brown Christmas was on television, we were all inspired to channel some of the Christmas magic we were feeling after watching that show. I still watch it every year, remembering myself in the place of Linus.

      At school we rehearsed the play for days. I was sure my fifth grade teacher was new to teaching, because her expectations of me exceeded my abilities. Despite my doubts that I could remember that many lines, I wasn’t willing to give up. 

      After school, at home in my room, I held the ditto with the fuzzy blue text before me. Although it was probably only three or four paragraphs, it seemed a lot longer. If the script was in front of me today, I know I would be surprised. The sentences probably wouldn’t fill half a page. To a kid in the fifth grade in front of her peers, it was like a book. 

      I practiced in front of the mirror in the bathroom. I tried to get every sentence exact. I couldn’t let down my friends. We had all worked so hard getting everything right. My

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