The Winter Collection

By Top Writers Block

This is a collection of winter tales to warm the heart. Some stretch the imagination while others are down-to-earth feel good tales. It is an excellent way to discover new writers and then to go on to their longer works.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Top Writers Block
• Release date: Dec 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311768742

Top Writers Block

Top Writers Block is a diverse and eclectic group of talented writers who decided to write stories together - just for the fun of it! Our collections are usually written with one theme or genre in mind. Each author contributes when they have the time, so some of the collections have as many as twelve authors participating. Every collection has something new, with stories and poems ranging from romance, drama, and adventure to mystery, fantasy, and horror.

Book preview

Collection of Short Stories

by

Top Writers Block

'The Winter Collection'

Copyright©December 2013 Top Writers Block

Published by Top Writers Block at Smashwords

ISBN: 9781311768742

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

http://suzystewartdubotbooks.weebly.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

Credits

Book cover photo & cover design : Suzy Stewart Dubot

Table of Contents

Parhelion by Elizabeth Rowan Keith

Curtains by Barnaby Wilde

My Shiny Object by Don Bick

Rhubarb Cake for Yule by David H. Keith

Christmas Spirits by Melissa A. Szydlek

Scraping The Ice Off Of Life by Bill Rayburn

The Lambeth Laundromat Lady by Suzy Stewart Dubot

Frostie by Barnaby Wilde

I Await by Don Bick

Parhelion

by

Elizabeth Rowan Keith

Elizabeth Rowan Keith is an American researcher, writer and artist who lives under the grand sky of the northern Great Plains. She and her collie, Belle, tend many gardens and trees. Elizabeth and her husband, David, own and operate November First Publications.

©2013 by Elizabeth Rowan Keith

At dawn on Yule, my oldest daughter and I were up to see the sunrise. We stood together on the porch, bundled in our winter warmest, draped together under a blanket, she in front of me. As the sun slid into the dark blue sky of winter, we watched the dog run through the fresh snow, snagging mouthfuls along the way.

We talked, my daughter and me. Holding her against me under the blanket, I could not help but be grateful for the moment. This child often takes a back seat to the others, usually at her own choice. She steps in to take on an adult role all too often for a child her age. It is such a comfort to hold her close, just she and me, while the other children sleep.

I thought of the way I used to hold her just to smell and look at her when she was first a baby in my arms. Now she stood next to me, her head at my shoulder. How quickly the last eleven years seemed to have flown.

Quiet time with my oldest is rare these days. She thinks she needs less of me than the others do. This Yule sunrise was our time to reconnect. We talked about gentle morning things as the daylight spreads across the horizon.

Tucking her more deeply against me and into the blanket, it occurred to me that I do not know who she is. She is changed. She no longer feels like a little girl. In this era of trouble she is aging more quickly than she should. Her friends are not growing up as quickly, and are falling away. To me, she feels like she is continuously metamorphosing between adult and child, often resting precariously half-way between.

In the minutes as the sun rose fully above the snowy ground, we talked of the tradition of Yule. She’s always known of the holiday. She grew up knowing of the Winter Solstice, and the ancient lore of the birth of the Sun God. To many, Yule is the beginning of a new year.

This time she spoke more of the story than I did. As the December chill penetrated our blanket and boots, we told the tales back and forth. She’s been listening. In this discussion she was ready for greater depth.

In some ancient times and places, Yule was celebrated for twelve days, beginning today, I told her.

Do you think we should celebrate for twelve days? my daughter asked. I’m not sure how that would work.

In these times there isn’t much room to celebrate every day the way we do on one day, I said. But we do have quite a few holidays along about now. We celebrate at the end of October and the beginning of November, again a few weeks later at Thanksgiving, here at Yule, followed closely by our visit from Santa. Then comes the New Year’s Eve and Day, followed by the holidays in February, and on into spring. So we really do have a lot of special times set aside to carry us through the winter. The nice thing about these days is that people can create special times any way they want to. We can do what works for us.

I know holidays have been on her mind. She celebrates holidays differently than her friends do. I don’t know if it was the difference in holiday practices, or the difference in our financial capabilities to celebrate that give her pause.

Our ways of celebrating holidays must have met with a level of comfort. I felt her quiet against me and return her attention to the sky.

When the sun was a finger’s width above the horizon, a spike of rainbow color and brilliant white appeared in the sky. It was long, bright, and beautiful. Even the dog lay down in the snow to gaze at it, sniffing the air in that direction.

What is that? my daughter asked, taking her hand from beneath the blanket to point into the sky.

It’s a sun dog, I explained. "There is often one on each side of the sun, and sometimes one above. The proper name is ‘parhelion.’ It’s from the Greek para meaning ‘beside’ and helios meaning ‘sun.’ Two or more are called ‘parhelia.’ But most people call them ‘sun dogs.’"

So why are they called ‘sun dogs?’ she asked.

That I do not know, I confessed. Nodding toward our dog in the yard I offered, Maybe it is because of the way our dogs stay beside us. So they imagine a dog beside the sun.

After a moment of consideration, my daughter asked, "So the Sun God has a Sun Dog?

Maybe, I posed.

What makes them? she asked.

Moisture in the sky, I explained. Usually it’s ice in the air. The morning sunshine bounces off of it something like the way rainbows are formed with water and sunlight. The color red is always closest to the sun.

My daughter was quietly transfixed as she stood to watch the vibrant display in the sky. I tightened my arms on her to be a bit closer to her as we watched this unique wonder.

No two are quite alike, I told her. Some people say sun dogs mean good luck.

Excitement stiffened my daughter. I could feel hope rise in her. She asked, Do you think we’re going to have good luck?

I don’t see why not, I assured her with a blanket-wrapped hug. I could not help but smile along with her as we anticipated improved circumstances.

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An English writer of quirky verse, short stories, detective fiction and novels with a sense of the ridiculous, now retired from a career in manufacturing and living in the South West of England.

Curtains

by

Barnaby Wilde

They'd never intended to live in the house. It was bought, originally, in the hope of making a profit, as a refurbishment project. An empty, semi derelict bungalow, which had once been divided into two flats that