Box Turtle Herds: The Santa Claus Chronicles

By James Shannon Abney

Fairies and elves have been a part of folk lore for as long as stories have been told. Some of the great mysteries in life growing up can never be fully explained with any certainty.

The answers to questions many children growing up have about Santa Claus and who he is, rests with with these mythical creatures. The Santa Claus Chronicles are stories about Santa that only the elves know. They explain who he is, what he does and why.

The Box Turtle Herds is the 2nd of 26 stories told to a young boy by an elf he happens across in the woods. You will discover that Santa was one of the three wise men told of in the Bible. That he delivered the very first Christmas present over 2,000 years ago to the child that it is named after.

Santa does not do his life's work alone. His wife Martha and the industrious little elves that help him, know that the hope of the world lies with all the children of the world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477256442

James Shannon Abney

James Shannon Abney is an artist and an engineer. He is a student of world history and the Christian Bible. He grew up in rural Georgia, experiencing the outdoors with his two dogs and horse. He spent many hours with his three companions exploring woods and creeks as he sketched and wrote short stories.He and his family trained horses and competed in hunter/jumper shows while instructing riding students throughout the southeast for many years.He holds a master's degree in mechanical engineering and is a student pilot. What he enjoys most is watching his daughter train horses and compete in show jumping horse shows.He writes a variety of stories, ranging from children's books, which he illustrates, and short mystery and horror stories plus western novels set back in history.

Book preview

© 2012 James Shannon Abney. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 8/8/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5643-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5644-2 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-5645-9 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012914050

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This story is dedicated to all the innocent and giving hearts of children from one to one hundred everywhere

Special thanks to my wife Nancy and my daughter Tara-without them, this and all my stories would never have been told.

Contents

Prologue My Second Meeting with the Elf

Chapter 1 Christmas Gifts

Chapter 2 Bridges, Caves and Trolls

Chapter 3 The Bargain

Chapter 4 The Missions

Chapter 5 The Journey South

Chapter 6 The Goat Woman’s House

Chapter 7 Captive Turtles

Chapter 8 Varity Stores

Chapter 9 The Well

Prologue

I had been sleeping peacefully and feeling completely safe, even though I was camped out in the middle of the woods at night and it was pitch black dark. I was lying on a folded army blanket that I always used when I camped out. My dogs Sport and Brownie were sleeping and snuggled up against me on either side.

Not long ago when I was nine going on ten, I met a tiny little elf quite by accident while camping out in these same woods with my brother. The elf was a fascinating little person, barely knee high tall that could read thoughts and talk to animals. Even though it was vivid in my mind, it still seemed like a dream. Every time I went in the woods to play now, I thought I might meet him again.

It was such a wondrous thing for a young boy to see. He came out of no where. His every move fascinated me. His soft sagging, blue, cone-shaped hat and his fantastic pointed ears were almost too much to take in. When he spoke, he waved his arms around wildly and bobbed his head while he changed his voice to sound just like me. His face had thousands of expressions and his eyes twinkled while his brows danced up and down the whole time he talked.

He told me a wonderful Fairy Tale that took me on an imaginary journey to an enchanted forest with mysterious waterfalls and gentle warm springs where there stood a small cottage. The images of the places and things in his story flashed in my mind for me to see just as if I was really there. He told me of the very first Christmas gift and how it began. But, most of all he told me about the little old man that lived in this cottage with his wife and his animals.

His closest friends were elves that visited from a neighboring forest. Some of the elves lived with the little old man during part of the year to help him in his life’s work.

This wasn’t just any little old man and these elves weren‘t just any elves. The little old man was one of the three wise men spoke of in the Bible that delivered the very first Christmas gift. He gave the Christ child a pair of sandals that he would wear as a young adult. This little old man’s name then, over two thousand years ago was Balthasar. He was an astrologer. A wise man, or as some called him a magi.

The whole world now knew him as Santa Claus.

The industrious little elves that stayed with Mr. and Mrs. Claus were his co- workers once a year in his fabulous Work Shop where they made toys.

The little elf I had met in the woods was Mr. Ulcher. When I first saw him, he was out gathering wood for alphabet blocks and stacking them onto the back of a huge bull frog named Mr. Tubbs. When I startled his frog he became very cross at first and stood staring at me with his mouth drawn up tight and his eyebrows raised as he patted one foot impatiently. He had his arms crossed in front of him.

The first problem Mr. Shannon, he said to me, is that you are ten years old and I am three hundred years old. Your kind age faster, you don’t stay children long enough to learn the mysteries that are all around you. You grow up too fast, and then you are too busy as adults to open your minds and your hearts. Believing, truly believing, makes all things possible.

I looked at him and sighed. If only life was that simple. He leaned in close looking deep into my eyes. He knew I had doubts about everything. He knew that all humans had these doubts.

The elf’s eyes were warm and understanding. He said nothing out loud, but his eyes began talking to me and his thoughts and words were coming into my head.

It was then, that he told me the first Fairy Tale. He called it An Elf’s Fairy Tale. The title started with the first letter of the alphabet-A.

He promised to visit me again if I believed his story and tell me 25 more. You see, he was going to tell me 26 Fairy Tales in all, each one beginning with the next letter of the alphabet, after all, he was the alphabet block maker for Santa Claus. Of course, I found out later that he did a lot more than make alphabet blocks.

I asked him why he called it a fairy tale if it was true, because fairy tales were just made up. It’s simple he said, all human stories about elves, fairies or things your kind doesn’t believe in, are called fairy tales.

I fell asleep after he told me his fabulous Fairy Tale and he left with Mr.Tubbs.

I wasn’t so sure when I awoke the next morning if it was real or just dreamed. For a while after that night and as time went on, I became filled with doubt. I began thinking maybe I had dreamed the whole thing. There was however, a little item hidden away in my closet that proved otherwise. It was a tiny red bridle that belonged to the huge bull frog named Mr. Tubbs. They had accidentally left it behind, or had they? Maybe Mr. Ulcher left it on purpose.

Even though I showed it to my little brother, he never believed my story. He always thought I had made the little bridle myself.

When school finally let out for the summer that year and little league baseball season was over, my two dogs Brownie and Sport and I began camping out in the woods whenever I could talk my mother into it. Once in a blue moon she would let my younger brother go with me - but not this time. This time I was glad. I was on a mission this time. I was going to find out where the Goat Woman lived!

We lived in the country and whenever I wasn’t playing little league baseball or football, I was usually playing in the deep woods with my dogs or riding my pony in the big open fields with streams that crisscrossed through them. I enjoyed all the fun playing baseball on a team and I also loved the contact and struggles playing football. I always felt like a knight of old dressed in armor when I suited up for football practice or games. But, you know, even though I liked team sports and all the attention I received, mostly I just enjoyed being all by myself in the woods with only my two dogs as company. Sometimes I would ride my pony bareback close to the creek with my dogs always following close behind. I would lie across Trigger’s back and let him graze while I studied the sky. We spent a lot of carefree hours wadding in creeks and exploring rabbit trails. I often sat sketching trees and birds and of course Brownie and Sport and my pony Trigger.

In those days, most of the shows on TV for us kids were westerns or cartoons. I liked to draw, so I would draw all the cartoon characters and make up little stories about them - mostly just to read to my brother.

My favorite TV series was The Lone Ranger. Mostly because I liked the way the actor that played him, carried himself and was so athletic. I practiced running and jumping on my pony just like he did. Of course there were others I liked too, jungle movies with Tarzan, anything with action. I’ve always liked animals, any kind, and I guess I always wanted to be a stunt man.

I learned how to fall without hurting myself. I practiced falling off the porch,my pony, rolling down hills and falling off limbs into the creek. I pretended to be shot off my horse and even off the roof of the barn. After a while I could fake any kind of a fall, even down stairs. I would climb on our barn and house roof. I could climb anything. I must have been in the top of every tree that grew within a mile of my house. I learned how to swing on a rope from tree to tree. I was like a monkey. I was a lot older before I found out that stunt men wore protective padding under their clothes. Probably explained why they didn’t have the skinned elbows and bruises like I always did.

I learned how to ride a horse by watching all those westerns long before I ever actually got one. My first time sitting on a horse was as comfortable as sitting on the couch.

My sometime companions were my two dogs. Actually, they were my always companions. They would quietly wait at the bottom of the trees as I would climb up to the top and look out over fields. They would follow me everywhere.

It was a happy time for me. I learned I was just one of God’s many creatures. Animals lived all over and went about their lives without any involvement from humans at all. Of course, I was soon to learn on this camping trip, that us humans meddle in all animal lives. I just didn’t know about it yet.

We lived on a dirt road with houses scattered along it on only one side. The other side had miles of trees and bushes and fields. Our closest neighbor were my grandparents. They lived up on a hill, way back from the road like we did.

There were several large farms in the area that had fields of corn for as far as you could see. There were also large pastures where fat cows and gentle horses grazed all day. This was in an area I wasn’t suppose to go in.

It backed up to the creek I played in most of the time. It had the bulls that roamed around the pastures not far behind the cows and horses. They were the unfriendly ones to anyone caught inside their fences. If you got too close to their cows, they would charge you.

There were many times when I had to run and climb a tree to get away from them whenever I was too far away to make it to the nearest fence to roll under.

Beyond the flat pastures, the woods got thicker and a huge hill rose up covered with unruly bushes and thickets and vines. That was where I first saw the Goat woman.

My parents made it very clear to me that I was not to go inside that fence where the bulls stayed and I really did try to stay out of there, you know, most of the time. But, that field always seemed to be between me and wherever I was going. And I admit, sometimes I just enjoyed the excitement of being chased by the