All She Wants For Christmas ~ Revised, 10-word challenge response Options

[Guest_Cathy_*]

All She Wants For Christmas ~ Revised

The dot on the window with the light dusting of freckles, is Sami's nose.  Her warm breath has frosted the glass pane so you can't see the sadness in her eyes or the tears that she has shed.  Warm memories assail her as she looks out into the snow-lit darkness.


Sami was a precocious five year old with a mop of long mahogany curls and huge brown eyes.  A bouncy personality, infectious dimple-producing laugh and an eager mind, made her a true joy to know.  Being an only child, she had a special bond with her parents, little rituals that they performed every day, her favorite being storytime at night, especially at Christmas time.

On wintry nights Sami and her mom would cuddle up under a thick comforter in front of the fire to share a cup of steaming hot chocolate, with lots of marshmellows.  They enjoyed the crackling logs, dancing flames and shadows flitting about on the walls.  Softly serenaded by Bing Crosby's "White Christmas", they would lapse into daydreams of lacy snowflakes and brightly lit trees.  

What special dessert would you like to serve on Christmas Day?

Oh mommy, can we do the Gooey Gumdrop Surprise?

Are you going to be mommy's helper?  We have to count all those gumdrops you know.

Yes, yes, yes!

The closeness between them was tangible as she happily nestled in her mom's arms.  They would whisper and giggle over some story that her mom would pull from her treasure trove of memories.  

I remember when I was just about your age I'd help my mommy bake Christmas cookies.  She'd let me pour things into the bowl and help stir until they got too thick.  I'd always sneak a lick of the spoon but mama would wag her finger at me... 'Now, now, none of that till we're through,' she'd say.

We made gingerbread men one year.  The spicy aroma filled the kitchen and was oh so good!  Mama brought the icing to the table so we could decorate them and the first one she picked up was always missing a leg.  'Now looky here!' she said.  'What happened to this poor man's leg.  Sparky, have you been up to my table again?'  Sparky was my dog.  I'd start giggling, mama would laugh.  I never said a word but she always knew because she would reach over to brush the cookie crumbs from my chin.

Mommy did you really eat his leg?

Yes Sami, I did.  Every year!  And every year your grandma would blame it on Sparky!

There laughter would ring throughout the house.  Sometimes her mommy would sing along with the record.  Sami would hum because she didn't know the words.

On the first night of December, they would write a letter to Santa, telling him how good (or bad) Sami had been, listing some of the things she would like to get for Christmas.  Sami was just learning penmanship so it was simpler to have her mommy write the letter, then Sami would sign her name at the bottom.  She tried to make it "not too long a list" because her mommy told her it wasn't nice to be greedy, and she hadn't been quite that good all year anyway.

She never forgot her mommy and daddy though, she always added something to the list for them.  

About that time, daddy would come through the door from his trek to the basement, toting the biggest tree she could ever remember seeing!  The tree stand and boxes of decorations were always ready for him so they would gather in the front room to adorn the tree.  Ornaments, new and old were carefully unwrapped of tissue paper and given a special place among the pine branches.  The old ones were her favorites, each one with its own lovely memory.  

Oh mommy, Sami would giggle.  It's all crooked and the sparkles are falling off the tree!

Her mom would reminesce with a sigh.  

I made a Christmas tree like that in Sunday school when I was about five years old.  I'd forgotten all about that.  There was a little boy sitting across the table from me who was very sad.  He never said a word the whole time we were working.  I never knew why.  But when we finished he handed his tree to me,  'Here, I want you to have this.' I looked at him kind of confused I suppose and then handed him mine.  I could see his eyes light up and he smiled ... just a little one, but he smiled.  I never saw him after that.  That's a very special Christmas tree.

Sami would hang it very carefully on a branch right in front where everyone could see.

Then her daddy would pretend he could smell the pine and always had to take a big whiff, to "remember throughout the year" he said.  

Daddy, this tree doesn't smell!  Sami would giggle.

Why yes, it does!  Sniff hard Sami.  Can't you smell it?

Sami was sniff so hard she'd sneeze, Oh daddy!

Then with a chuckle he would lift her up and allow her to place the star on the very top.  She'd hold her breath while he plugged in the lights ... oh what a sight!  The next day, Sami would be left in the care of a neighbor while her parents made a special trip just to deliver her letter to Santa!

Christmas morning was a wonder!  Sami would bound downstairs, trying to take them two at a time, shouting at the top of her lungs, Santa was here!  Mommy!  He was here!  She would dive under the tree, her head disappearing beneath its branches; not quite able to read the names on the packages, while her mommy stood giggling behind her.

Sami, wait for daddy hon.  He'll help you.

With excitement sparkling in her eyes and cheeks blushing, she would wait; hopping around impatiently, but she would wait.  Soon paper was flying to the left, to the right and a bow would land on daddy's head.  Sami would squeal with delight and then stick one on his nose to match!

Everything she had asked for would be there ... and more!  Santa never, ever forgot her mommy and daddy either.

This year, now six, she was waiting for her parents to return from their special delivery when a patrol car pulled into the drive.  She sat frozen on the sofa while the neighbor answered the door.  She could hear bits of the conversation, though she tried to block them out ... an accident on the highway ... no survivors ... what about the child ... no family... she covered her ears.  The officers came into the front room where she sat, ears covered, quietly singing ... I'-m dreaming of a whi-te Christ-mas ...  She'd learned some of the words to surprise her mom.
 
Now, there is only sadness and a tiny niggling of fear.  Mommy and daddy are in heaven, no letter delivered. Will Santa remember, know where to find her?  The other children at the home are mean and make fun of her, You won't get nothin'! they taunt.  

It's Christmas Eve and Sami is supposed to be in bed; yet she stands alone, nose pressed to the window pane. Watching and listening for him she whispers; My list is very short this year Santa.  All I want for Christmas is my mom and dad.

Cathy Bollhoefer
copyright Sept2005



All She Wants For Christmas ~ Original

The dot on the window with the light dusting of freckles, is Sami's nose.  Her warm breath has frosted the glass pane so you can't see the sadness in her eyes or the tears that she has shed.


Sami is a precocious five year old with a mop of long mahogany curls and huge brown eyes.  With a bouncy personality, an infectious laugh and an eager mind, she is a true joy to know.  Being an only child, she has a special bond with her parents.  They have little rituals that they perform every day, her favorite being storytime at night.  The three of them share the love and joy of Christmas, each year more special than the last.

On wintry nights Sami and her mom would cuddle up under a comforter in front of the fire to share a cup of steaming hot chocolate, with lots of marshmellows of course.  They enjoyed the snapping logs and dancing flames, softly serenaded by Bing Crosby's "White Christmas", while lapsing into daydreams of lacy snowflakes and brightly lit trees.  They would decide what "special" dessert to serve on Christmas Day.  The closeness between them was tangible as nestled in her mom's arms they would whisper and giggle over some story from her mom's treasure trove of memories.  Sometimes her mommy would sing along with Bing while Sami hummed; she didn't know the words.

On the first of December, after their cuddling and chocolate, they would write a letter to Santa, telling him how good (or bad) Sami had been that year, listing some of the things she would like to get for Christmas.  Sami was just learning penmanship so it was simpler to have her mommy write the letter, then Sami would sign her name at the bottom.  She tried to make it "not too long a list" because her mommy told her it wasn't nice to be greedy, there were too many children in the world in need. She never forgot her mommy and daddy though, always adding something to the list for them.  

About that time, daddy would come through the door from his trek in the woods dragging the biggest tree she could ever hope to see!  The tree stand and boxes of decorations were always ready for him so they would gather in the front room to adorn the tree.  Ornaments, new and old were carefully unwrapped of tissue paper and given a special place among the pine branches.  The old ones were her favorites, each one with its own lovely memory.  The smell of pine would fill the room and daddy always had to take a big whiff, to "remember throughout the year" he said.  Then he would lift her up and allow her to place the star on the very top.  Holding her breath while he plugged in the lights ... oh what a sight!  The next day, Sami would be left in the care of a neighbor while her parents made a special trip just to deliver her letter to Santa!

Christmas morning was a wonder!  Sami would bound downstairs, trying to take them two at a time, shouting at the top of her lungs, Santa was here!  Mommy!  He was here!  She would dive under the tree, her head disappearing beneath its branches; not quite able to read the names on the packages while her mommy stood giggling behind her.

Sami, wait for daddy hon.  He will help you.

With excitement sparkling in her eyes and cheeks blushing, she would wait; hopping around impatiently, but she would wait.  Soon paper was flying to the left, to the right and a bow would land on daddy's head.  Sami would squeal with delight and then stick one on his nose to match!

Everything she had asked for would be there ... and more!  Santa never, ever forgot her mommy and daddy either.

This year, now six, she is waiting for her parents to return from their special delivery when a patrol car pulls into the drive.  She sits frozen on the sofa while the neighbor answers the door.  She can hear bits of the conversation, though she tries to block them out ... "an accident on the highway ... no survivors ... what about the child ... no family"... she covers her ears.  The officers come into the front room where she sits, quietly singing ... I'-m dreaming of a whi-te Christ-mas ...  She's learned some of the words to surprise her mom.
 
Now, there is only sadness and a tiny niggling of fear.  Mommy and daddy are in heaven, no letter delivered. Will Santa remember, know where to find her?  The other children at the home are mean and make fun of her, "You won't get nothin'!" they taunt.  

It's Christmas Eve and Sami is supposed to be in bed; yet stands alone, nose pressed to the window pane. Watching and listening for him she whispers; But my list is short this year Santa.  All I want for Christmas is my mom and dad.

Cathy Bollhoefer
copyright Sept2005

dot
dust - dusting
wintry
frost - frosted
freckle - freckles
log - logs
lapse - lapsing
serenade - serenaded
simple - simpler
wonder

[Guest_Toumai_*]

Hi Cathy,

This had me reaching for the hankies - very moving story, with no happy ending: a real tearjerker.

I think Nina's suggestions for adding more dialogue and action to "show" the story and characters are excellent.

I noticed a couple of practicalities as I read through.

In some places you use speech marks for and in some place italics - choose one or the other (maybe speech marks for direct dialogue and italics for thoughts).

The tenses get a little confused.

The dot on the window with the light dusting of freckles, is Sami's nose.  Her warm breath has frosted the glass pane so you can't see the sadness in her eyes or the tears that she has shed.

As Nina says, a lovely first para that sets up the grief and makes me wonder WHY is she sad.

Now you move back in time, but still using present tense. Since in the next para you do switch to past tense, it might make the flashback clearer to use past tense (Sami WAS a precocious ...) here, too?

Sami is a precocious five year old with a mop of long mahogany curls and huge brown eyes.  With a bouncy personality, an infectious laugh and an eager mind, she is a true joy to know.  Being an only child, she has a special bond with her parents.  They have little rituals that they perform every day, her favorite being storytime at night.  The three of them share the love and joy of Christmas, each year more special than the last.

You could "show" the rituals and the warmth of the family, Sami's bounciness and so on with descriptions and dialogue rather then just telling me that she's a lively lass.

On wintry nights Sami and her mom would cuddle up under a comforter in front of the fire to share a cup of steaming hot chocolate, with lots of marshmellows of course.  Ooh, yummy! They enjoyed the snapping logs snapping makes me think of crocodiles - crackling? and dancing flames, softly serenaded by Bing Crosby's "White Christmas", while {lapsing into daydreams} imagining ? of lacy snowflakes and brightly lit trees.  They would decide what "special" dessert to serve on Christmas Day.  The closeness between them was tangible as nestled in her mom's arms they would whisper and giggle over some story from her mom's treasure trove of memories.  That last sentance is rather "telling" and you cuold describe small scenes to make it come alive? Sometimes her mommy would sing along with Bing while Sami hummed; she didn't know the words.

About that time, daddy would come through the door from his trek in the woods dragging the biggest tree she could ever hope to see!  

Erm ... would the tree survive till the 25th if erected at the opening of the month? (jeepers! I am a picky critter - sorry! )

This year, now six, she is waiting for her parents to return from their special delivery when a patrol car pulls into the drive.  She sits frozen on the sofa while the neighbor answers the door.  She can hear bits of the conversation, though she tries to block them out ... "an accident on the highway ... no survivors ... what about the child ... no family"... she covers her ears.  The officers come into the front room where she sits, quietly singing ... I'-m dreaming of a whi-te Christ-mas ...  She's learned some of the words to surprise her mom.

That para is back in present tense, but yet it is still a flashback. I'm not quite sure what tense would be best here, though, because it's far more recent than the previous paras ... hmm ...

I shall so much look forward to any expansion you make of this, Cathy.

Fran