Home of The Naughty Stories Series
M T Sands spends Christmas with her boyfriend, Naim a.k.a. the Sheik. Naim does not celebrate Christmas officially, but he does enjoy the fancy dress, the Santa costumes and the strategic positioning of mistletoe. As for herself, Mary has several festive traditions which she always carries out – sometimes in secret. Every year she dresses as Santa and travels to local villages leaving random offerings on people’s doorsteps. This year, for example, she gave jars of honeycomb made from her bees, specially labelled with her North Pole logo. The Sheik will sometimes play along by dressing in an elf outfit and watching the polar express. None of this I hasten to add has been captured on camera or posted on Social Media. Her exploits have reawakened some locals’ belief in the existence of Santa, good or bad. Although, as one mother exclaimed, rather rudely, how could the real Santa give a gift quite so sticky?
There is something about reaching the end of the year and knowing that Christmas is around the corner that leads to a maelstrom of emotional reaction. There is an overwhelming urge to ensure that the elements that are conjured from a mainly half-forgotten childhood be recreated and then the driving psychopathic urge to share it …
In a country village, Christmas has its own unique set of traditions. The businesses that surround the village also have theirs, none more enlivening than the office Christmas party when indiscretions are many, and certain ladies and gentlemen become too far hearty even for themselves. Samantha Ridley considered herself a stalwart of the village, but …
There once was a waiting room with three people in it. One was a middle-aged woman, who was sitting by the door, handbag on her lap. She wore a pair of gloves that she was loath to take off in case she handled something unclean and revealed the liver spots on the back of her …
As people said good night and Happy Christmas, David realised the moment he dreaded had come. He had to leave the office and drive on his own to an empty house on Christmas Eve. In his forty-five years on planet Zog he’d never had a Christmas on his own. His parents departed. The kids with …
“Morning, anyone there?” (Pause) “Hello, hello?” “Sorry I was on mute.” “I beg your pardon.” “MUTE!” “As in deaf mute.” “I can hear perfectly well, thank-you.” “Sorry, who is this?” “I might ask you the same question.” “This is Sonya Hetherington from Faith and Twinkle LLP.” “Oh, stop joshing, your Holiness.” “Your Saintliness, it is …
It was a cold day, as he remembered it, sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas. He had the chains on the wheels because where he was going to a friend’s log cabin for the weekend, there was a risk of ice on the road. When he saw the hitcher up ahead of him, he did not …
Jesus was a nervous boy. He also hated Christmas, because it meant birthday. And every year was one year closer. Jesus tapped at the door. He was late. When the door swung open, the party was clearly in full swing. “Come on in! Who are you anyway? Oh, Jesus. Great outfit by the way.” His …
In Homage to Kenneth Grahame[1] Christmas Eve Toad, as so often, was in an excited mood, as he prepared to put out his stocking when he could not find the hammer, which he thought he’d put away in the left-hand kitchen drawer. His search went high and low – though not as far as the …
She had nowhere to go. Nothing to eat but a sausage roll and several cups of weak coffee from a vending machine. To make matters worse, her leg still hurt where she’d been kicked by a bovver kid on Aggro Row. – Jill was right on the edge staring at the abyss; when she saw …
Scene One There was great pressure in the run up to Christmas at school. A convent education leads inevitable to an ability to create a nativity scene using nothing more than a shoe box, marker pen, tape and cotton wool. Having something of an artistic turn, the shoe box and occupant creations were not too …