Holiday sprinting

 

This is a 15-minute sprint done from the prompt "A holiday surprise" posed by the Christian Indie Writers' Podcast. As per usual, I allowed the prompt to kick-start my brain, but veered away from actually incorporating it in my segment of story. Ah, well, I hope you might enjoy this anyway!

Sam inspected the ornaments on the Christmas tree, enjoying the hand-crafted items. She smiled at a piece of twisted glass hanging from an old bit of twine near the top of the tree, wondering at the story behind it. No one would hang something so old and worn on their tree without it having a story behind it.

David stepped into the room carefully balancing two filled mugs topped with piles of whipped cream. He'd even gone so far as to stick candy canes into the mugs. Sam reached out for her cup, smiling with appreciation. 

"This is lovely!" 

"I invited you out for a drink," he said, lifting his mug in the air in mock salute. "I didn't plan on the road to town being closed, but we can make do."

Sam's tongue darted out to lick the whipped cream off the top of her lip as she swallowed her first sip. "This is more than just making do," she smiled. "I'd almost suggest you engineered that downed tree to be able to pull this off."

David's lifted eyebrow and roguish grin played along. "You caught me out!" He gestured to the tree behind her. "Did you see, I put your ornament on?"

Sam nodded and turned her attention back to the quaintly decorated tree. The ornament she had given him, a small angel made from seashells and bits of dried flowers, hung next to a cardboard house decorated like a gingerbread house. "What's this ornament?" She pointed to the twisted glass.

She turned in time to see a self-deprecating smile on his face. "That used to be a trumpet," he announced, adopting an air of solemnity. "When I was a boy, I pretended to be blowing the trumpet and accidentally bit the end off. My mother insisted we had to keep it. A few years ago the other end broke off when it was put away, so it doesn't look much like a trumpet anymore, but I put it up for her."

(As a little behind the scenes storytelling, I used my husband as the basis for this scene. We still hang his twisted bit of glass on the top of our tree - it's almost 60 years old and no longer looks much like a trumpet, but every year we tell the stories behind the ornaments we hang while we are trimming our tree. This will be the first year without his mother here to comment on it. 💔 )