The other night I heard some rustling in the girls’ bedroom, so I headed back to see who was up. Even though it was well past her bedtime, I found my nine-year-old night owl, Lucy, still awake.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Writing.” While this writer-mama’s heart warmed instantly, I had to try and preserve the stern look on my face. It was, after all, past 10 o’clock.
“It’s really late, Lucy. Save it for tomorrow.”
“But I can’t, Mom! I am full of inspiration! I have to write it down now!”
Heart melt, once again. A writer knows that inspiration ebbs and flows, and you have to grab the moments as they come.
“Five more minutes,” I said, promising to check back.
“Mom,” she said, “I don’t care about sleep. Writing is my passion.”
Impossible to argue with. So today I give you Lucy’s entry in Susanna Leonard Hill’s Third Annual Holiday Contest. Enjoy!
The Contest: Write a children’s story about a Holiday Mishap, mix-up, miscommunication, mistake, or potential disaster (a la Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer :)). Your story may be poetry or prose, silly or serious or sweet, religious or not, based on Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or whatever you celebrate, but is not to exceed 350 words not counting the title (aren’t I being generous?! It can be as short as you like, but no more than 350!)
The Story of an Elf
(Who didn’t want to be on the shelf)
By Lucy Dixon
I always dreamed of being a reindeer specialist at Santa’s workshop. My ex-best-friend, Jack Frozentoes, and I studied hard at The Rudolph Wonders School and Stables. But because of a mean trick involving feeding moldy gingerbread to Comet, I got stuck as an elf on the shelf. And Jack became my enemy.
One fateful night. I was perched on what I thought was a safe place, the Christmas tree of my people. Then I saw that mischievous elf, Jack Frozentoes! I said, “Jack, you’d better not touch my tree! No one wants to mess with Junior Jinglejive (that’s me)!”
“No one, huh?” said Jack. Then Jack flew to the bottom of the tree.
“Oh, no!” I said. Next thing I knew…KER-PLUMP! I WAS FACE FIRST ON THE FLOOR. When one of my people walked in, they gasped!
“Poor elfy,” the little one said. The tallest one held the tree until they got it steady.
“Rotten Eggnog!” I thought to myself. I couldn’t move while they were in the room, so I had to lay on my bruised nose for four hours! (that’s 20 minutes in elf time)
When they were all asleep, I flew back to the North Pole as fast as I could.
“Oh my milk and cookies!” exclaimed Santa when I told him what happened.
. “Jack Frozentoes!” Santa said. “You get in here right now!”
“Rusty sleigh bells,” Jack muttered to himself.
“I cannot believe you!,’’ said Santa
‘’I can,’’ I said.
‘’Mr.Jingljive, I believe you and Frozentoes both need a jolly refill. Officer Stocking, please take these two elves down to the Candy Cane Stables.”
Two hours later (you do the math), we found ourselves scooping reindeer rocks. (Santa doesn’t like the word, “poop,” but that’s what it is.)
“This feels like the old days,” I said, “When we took Reindeer Care 101 together.”
“I guess I really messed up,” Jack said. “Can we be friends again?”
I always dreamed of being a reindeer specialist at Santa’s Workshop. And because of my best friend, that dream came true.