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L&L's Christmas Carols

 
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12/12/2008 14:17:30   
Recar Dragonlance
Member

Here is the thread to place all your magnificent stories. Short, long, whatever, just post and get us in the spirit.

Comments thread!

Have fun!

< Message edited by Recar Dragonlance -- 12/12/2008 14:20:08 >
DF  Post #: 1
12/12/2008 15:02:27   
Recar Dragonlance
Member

This is the introduction to the story, for I've been compelled to rewrite Fire of the Soul.




The Band of Extraordinary Story Characters

Warlic slammed the weathered tome onto the table, bringing forth a cloud of ancient dust that settled on its base. He raised one black bushy eyebrow at the Fire Mage, who folded his arms in response to the slammed book. Already Glen Brendon grew tired of Warlic’s attempts to even out the fire mage’s debt to the world. Only once did he destroy the universe, causing the shattered particles to collide into the neighbouring universes and unleashing an evil which hadn’t touched Lore in all it’s history – just once and he was determined to make things right.

Glen ran both hands through his bright blonde hair then down his stubble-filled face. Bags were beginning to form under his eyes (how many monsters had he killed this week? More than he or I are willing to count). Leaning over the book, Glen raised his own eyebrow, returning his glance back to the blue-robed wizard.

“Recar Dragonlance’s Tales of Fire. Right, who’s he then?” He ran a hand across the crusted, paper pages of the book; feeling each one until he reached the end. Actually, he gave up half way, for the end didn’t seem to be anywhere close.

“Creator of some of the universes our own crashed into… Glen, something has disturbed me greatly. There is… There is a chill in the air I can’t quite shake,” The Wizard said, strolling around the large wooden desk where Glen sat. The footsteps echoed throughout the vast library, seeming to shake the millions of books bestowed in the towering bookshelves. “Our job is not quite-”

“No. No. No. No. No. No. No! I refuse to do anymore of the work! All right, I apologise for blowing the universe up but I think I’ve made it up now… Please just tell me I don’t have to blow anything else up.” Glen looked up at Warlic, fire burning in his crimson eyes.

As if answering for the Wizard, the library began to shake. The books plummeted from their ancient posts; rotting ladders began to fall from where they were last left; the grand, mile-tall stone doors slammed shut. In the midst of the tremor, neither mages recognised the book name Recar Dragonlance’s Tales of Fire had tumbled open. Nor had they seen the words were glowing a colour.

It was glowing pink.
DF  Post #: 2
12/13/2008 13:48:53   
jerenda
Member

The Star Polisher
By Liandra M. Sable

To be read as a bedtime story.


You might think that stars just shine brightly all the time, with no worries or problems. This is not so. They glow for a while, but every century or so their light runs out and they get bent and scratched. That’s where the star polisher comes in. With gentle hands and loving words he straightens them out, puts them back into shape, and breathes light into them.

There once was a group of very young stars, only a decade or so old, who had just lost their glow. This was the first time this had happened to them, and they became scared and worried. They didn’t know if this “star polisher” person was real, and they didn’t want to stay dull forever. But among these young ones was a very old star, so twisted and bend that his eyes could hardly be seen for wrinkles. He told them not to fear.

“The star polisher came before,” he said, “and he’ll come again. You just have to believe.”

The little stars were unsure. Should they listen to the old one? They had never seen the star polisher. Then one brave star came forward and said “I believe him. He’s wiser then we are- let’s try to have faith.”

So, led by that little brave star, the stars kept believing that he would come. They had to wait a long, long time - nearly a hundred years! - but they never gave up hoping. Finally he came, a brilliant smile on his face. He took the stars one by one and smoothed out the bends, fixing each and every point. Then, with a hug and a kiss, he set them back into the heavens to shine once more.

Then he came upon the ancient one. “I’m so proud of you,” he said, love shining in his eyes. “You helped these little ones to believe. Keep up the good work.” Then he straightened out that old, old star, giving him the brightest shine of all.

Now, if you look up into the sky at night, you’ll see that ancient star glowing brightly among the thousands of others. He is called the North Star now, the star that, no matter what, always stays in the same place, helping travelers find their way. It just goes to show that, even in the darkest of times, you should never give up the bright star of Hope.
AQ DF  Post #: 3
12/24/2008 14:29:25   
Firefly
Lore-ian


How the Years Pass
Or Detective Diane and the Christmas Boy

Intervention and fate,
Entwined into one
In the darkness of the holy night.


Detective Diane Hubert paced around the waiting room, glaring at the double doors that led to a corridor of emergency rooms. Her friend Jane lay in one of them. Giving birth on Christmas Day—a blessing and a curse.

The doors flew open. Diane rushed towards the nurse, meeting a flustered gaze with her own anxious one.

“How is she?”

The nurse forced a smile. “Miss Anton is fine. No need to worry.”

“And the baby?”

The woman’s face fell. “Well, his birth was successful, but…” She took a deep breath. “As we feared from the blood tests, his brain and heart are extremely underdeveloped. To come out of the womb in such a state…”

Diane’s eyes narrowed. “Will he live?”

The nurse stared at her hands. “I don’t know. Even if he does, I… doubt it would be for very long. When—”

Grabbing her by the lapels, Diane slammed the nurse against the wall. “Save him,” she hissed. “If not for me, then for Jane.” Her eyes blurred for a moment, as if her thoughts swerved in another direction. “Don’t let an infant die on Christmas Day.”

The nurse stumbled through the doors as Diane released her. “Y-yes. We’ll do our best.”



Bars and chains,
Ought and must
Arrive in the third month.


Diane rang the doorbell of Jane’s house, flanked by three policemen. “Come in!” called the voice of her friend.

Turning the handle, Diane opened the door. She marched down the hallway and found Jane in the living room. She sat on the couch, holding her three-month-old baby.

Diane stood in front of her and squared her shoulders. “The evidence is against you, Jane. I’m afraid you are convicted.”

The blond woman looked up, rocking her baby in her arms. “I’m not making excuses. I killed the father of my child.”

Staring at Jane’s serene face, Diane felt her resolve shatter. She collapsed to her knees before her friend, ignoring the gasps from the policemen.

“Why, Jane, why? Why did you do it?”

Jane’s eyes kindled with a scorching flame. “Shame. Shame, and revenge.”



Trial to change a newborn’s life.
The circle of power spins
Five months after his mother’s disgrace.


Diane flopped onto her couch. The moment she sat down, the phone rang. Cursing, the detective stumbled across the room and snatched up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Diane, it’s me, Miranda.”

The tone bothered the detective. “Hi, Miranda. How did it go?” Silence. “I really wouldn’t have forced you to appear for me, but I had a case today and—”

“Oh, Diane, don’t you worry about that! It’s just…” A sharp inhale of breath. “The court ruled it would be… unhealthy for a child to be raised by the woman who prosecuted his mother.”

“I see.” Diane carried the phone to the couch and plopped down on a cushion. She fought to keep her voice monotonous.

“They’re sending him to a foster home, to a pair of strangers who don’t plan on telling him his true origin. What’s more, they’ve given the ‘parents’ permission to give him a new name.” The words tumbled out in a rush, as if she feared Diane would drop the phone in horror before she could finish.

“Thanks for telling me, Miranda. I…”

“It’s really unfair,” the other woman grumbled. “Honestly, you’re the best candidate for taking care of Dave. I mean, who was the one that stood in the hospital the day of his birth, pleading for his survival on Christmas night?”

“We have to respect the court’s decision.” Diane dug her nails into her palm and blinked away the tears.

“But, but, you won’t even be able to visit him! You won’t even recognize him if you ever meet him again!”

Diane hacked out a sardonic laugh. “I’m a detective, aren’t I? I’ll find him someday.”



A full circle of movement,
Spiralling to a bittersweet conclusion,
The dawn of a new decade.


Children dotted the playground: sitting on swings, whirling down slides, climbing across monkey bars. Diane stepped across the grass outside the kids’ paradise and joined an elderly couple on a nearby bench. She swept her thinning hair from her eyes and rubbed the creases on her temple.

“Tired?”

Diane met the gaze of the old woman. “A little. It was a hard day at work.”

“What do you do?” It was the man this time. “Apologies if I’m prying. I noticed that you moved into the neighbourhood a week ago, so I thought we’d better get acquainted.”

Diane smiled. “That’s fine. I’m a detective.”

Their eyes shone with wonder.

“Our boy Noah dreams of becoming a detective.” The woman chuckled, pointing at a child of around ten who was scrambling across the monkey bars.

“Once he hears about you, he’ll think one of his fictional heroes has come to life,” the man remarked.

Diane laughed. “Real life is not quite as glorious. It can be gruesome work at times. Though—” she eyed the determination in the boy’s gaze, the youthful enthusiasm in his climb— “I think your child has the strength for it.”

“He’s a strong kid,” the man agreed. “People wouldn’t believe it when I told them he was born underdeveloped. The doctors thought he couldn’t pull through, and look at him now! The healthiest kid on the block!”

“I’m actually not surprised he managed to pull through,” the woman commented.

Diane raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“He was born on Christmas Day.”
AQ  Post #: 4
12/29/2008 0:27:47   
time losh
Member

I wrote this about 3 years ago when I was bored around christmas time but I found the notebook so i'm gonna type it all up.

A Cerdo Christmas Carol


Twas the night before christmas as they looked at the snow
The splatters of blood littered the ground below.
Jack nippled his toothpick and shook his head.
"Alright stick a fork in him, this poor dudes dead."

"What d'you think?" Pastis said with a smirk.
"I think you need to shutup, i'm tryin' to work!"
"Now you listen here!" Pastis turned to say.
But Jack merely chuckled, laughed, and then walked away.

The cause of death was peculiar indeed
A gun shot to the head but twas more than it seemed.
The pistol that laid down on the ground,
had never been fired, not one single round.

The facts ran through his head like a train in the night
He had to solve this murder and set everything right.
The first step was easy, twas painfully clear.
He would swing by Coschas and get himself a beer

When he arrived in the pub he saw not a face
Not a single person around in the whole stinkin' place.
With a happy smirk he took a seat at the bar
He knew what he wanted and recited by heart.

"One Guiness! One Miller!
One Drink with some kicks in!
One Gibson! One Gimlet!
Hurry up get me blitzened!
To the top of the glass
And not too much head!
On second thought make that Miller
A Budweiser instead!"


As he finished his drinks, the blood in his veins
All rushed and focused right up to his brain
He felt a bit busy but knew what to do
Head back to Pastis, have a look at the clues.

On the way back to the station a figured appeared
At least he hoped so, otherwise that was good beer.
The man was dressed all in red from his head to his feet
And walked along the middle of the poorly lit street.

"Freakin' weirdos at night." Jack thought in his head.
"Maybe I should just go head home instead."
"No no no, Jack you've got a job to do."
"Doesn't matter if you're drunk or sick with a flu."

Jack burst into the station determined and cleaned up.
Especially since outside he had just thrown up.
"Pastis i'm here to work, I want to help you."
"I smell beer on your breath, go home you're through!"

"Your eyes how they sparkle, your jowls, how merry!
Your cheeks turn red when you yell at me just like a cherry.
Your droll little mouth is curved down like a bow
But your teeth are all gritted now, they're white like the snow.
I should probably say you've got food in your teeth
But then you'd get mad and you'd have me beat.
You've got a broad handsome face and a huge freakin' belly
It jiggles when you...well anything, like a big bowl of jelly"

Naturally this drunk talk got Jack kicked out in the cold
Having to work on this case alone.
He saw the man in red with a gun in his hand
And dove down just in the time, in the snow he did land.

With his S&W drawn he went into pursuit
The mysterious man who had just tried to shoot.
He tackled him down and examined his gun
This was certainly the killer who had tried to run.

So the murder was solved all the details were done.
Jack slumped in his chair with a bottle of rum.
He took a deep swig and spoke loud and clear
"Freakin' hate Christmas, worst time of the year!"

I had to clean up some of the language because Jack is a pretty violent mouthed guy :p lol but i've always liked this little story of mine.
AQ  Post #: 5
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