We had a fabulous holiday party back on Dec. 3, and we wanted to share our short stories! As a reminder, here were the rules:
- Must involve the following 5 words: 1) mint, 2) pine, 3) wrap, 4) flake and 5) mug. All 5 words must be included in the story, although plurals and transmogrifications are accepted (e.g., ‘flakes’ and ‘snowflake’). Words may also be used as proper nouns, have more than one meaning, etc. (Be creative)!
- Participants can be BCW members or anyone attending the holiday party. But you must attend the party to win a prize!
- Extra points for holiday themes, but keep in mind what we write (mysteries, thrillers, suspense, etc.).
On to the stories:
A Yeti’s Revenge
By Kandy Williams
Vlad the yeti sighed to himself as the gnomes argued. No one cared what shade of green they painted the mayor’s sleigh for the parade. Especially not Vlad.
Mayor Marty had scoffed and laughed in his face.
“You? Open a shop here at the North Pole, selling snowflake macramé wall hangings? With your ugly mug?”
Vlad let it go. Although the gnomes ran a gluten-free wraps shop. And Mrs. Claus sold cheeses made from yaks’ milk in the off season. True abominations.
For today, he’d focus on the parade—and the expression on the mayor’s face when the triggered avalanche buried him in that green sleigh.
By Jim Sabin
Leo couldn’t understand it. His order had been simple – a nice, dark hot chocolate he could transfer to a mug and sit by the fire, wrapped in his favorite blanket. But no, the delivery driver had brought him a mint hot chocolate instead. It was the third time this week he’d gotten the wrong order, all from the same driver. The lady was flaky, sure, but three times? But Leo had figured it out. He’d followed her to her car this time, found she had his proper hot cocoa in it, and now she was resting peacefully under the pine tree out back. And the fire was so delightful.
By Eileen Curley Hammond
Kandy Kane swigged the minty-fresh mouthwash. She was late, like always, but this time she had a good excuse—Sammy Flake.
Turns out Sammy was trying to weasel in on their trade—cute Christmas mugs. Dogs, cats, ponies, you name it, they etched it. Well, she wasn’t about to let him take money from her pocket. No siree. People automatically thought she was soft cause of her name. They had that wrong.
Sammy now rested six feet under near the big pine on Jefferson. He looked pretty good wrapped in her trademark red and white stripes.
By Eliza Lee
Alpine Taxi had arrived early (and loudly).
I gulped the last of my coffee, rinsed the mug, and then snatched up a protesting Peppermint to place her into her carrier.
Black duffle (some metal clanking inside) in one hand, and Peppermint’s carrier in the other, I took one last look around the living room – the blood spatter, chunks of brain matter, and a mangled mound of flesh, now tightly wrapped in plastic.
I did warn him. She is my cat.
I turned to step out into the fluffy, drifting snowflakes of Christmas Eve, waving to the driver.