Today, I’m sharing the beginning of my WIP, Four Christmases, that I told you about here. It’s unedited and it’s short, but I hope you enjoy it! đ
2015
The silence that follows after I close the door is wonderful, and I slump against a porch post and let out a long sigh. Shaking my head, I chuckle. I love my granny to pieces, but Iâm in desperate need of a break from listening to her repeatedly singing âGrandma Got Run Over By A Reindeerâ at the top of her voice and out of tune. It comes with a routine and everything; she lifts her cup of eggnog, roar out the word âeggnogâ in the lyrics, and cackle like a madwoman, especially after having imbibed quite a few cups of the vile drink in question. Then she looks expectantly at the rest of the family, waiting for us to laugh. I admit it was funny at first, but after the hundredth time my chuckle is polite more than anything.
But itâs been a Whipple family Christmas tradition for years and years, so it wouldnât be the same without it. I just need a moment of peace and quiet before going back inside for round two.
A shiver racks my body and I wind the thick charcoal scarf I grabbed before fleeing the chaos that is my family Christmas around my neck, shove my gloved hands into the pockets of my light gray peacoat, and then jump off the back porch.
The air is full of huge, light snowflakes twirling leisurely from the sky and landing softly on the frost coated trees and shrubbery in my parentsâ garden. Itâs not enough to actually be considered a snowfall; itâs more like a reminder that today is December twenty-fifth after all, and we shouldnât think weâre spared the snow even though it barely covers the ground. Itâs as though the weather is keeping us on our toes, teaching us not to take anything for granted.
And if you’ve never heard Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer, the song Auden grumbles about, lucky you, because it’s terrible. But here it is, if you want to torture yourself đ
Nell Iris 