It's back! Sekrit Santa 20.

Whoops! I forgot to attach my stories, in case anyone wants to take a look.

Here they are. None of them are very long.
 

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  • Sekrit Santa 20, 12:23 - For where your treasure is.docx
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Ok, time to fess up I guess. Apologies for the double post, but it's two days later so I'm claiming it doesn't count.

My story was Long Day's Gobbling Into Night. Which several people seemed to have guessed correctly - am I so obvious? I guess you can all read me like a book. And not a very good book. Certainly not as good as Bravo Two Zero by Andy McNab.

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Anyway, for anyone who's prepared to settle down for a nice afternoon with a glass of delicious hot strychnine, here's my story.
 

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  • Long Day’s Gobbling Into Night - Dan Jones.docx
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BigJ said:
Well, given that mine was correctly guessed (randomly or otherwise) -

I can confirm that I did, indeed, write this one. The only thing that's kept me up at night about it is that @genelewis expressed that they were looking forward to seeing the rest, and I don't honestly know just where it goes from here (though on reflection I agree it needs to go somewhere). Ah, well. That'll be a project for another time this year. Hope you don't mind me spreading your gift around.
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Nicely done!
 
@THX1138 , I have now read both your stories. “The Dolphin…” was really gripping, an entertaining mystery and an adventure all at once. ”Chopin’s Music Box” was both sweet and great fun - heartwarming fantasy.

@Victoria Silverwolf , I thought that ”Flight” was both beautiful and moving. I actually had tears in my eyes when… you know… happened, twice; when I read it, and afterwards when I was thinking about it.

Thank you, everyone, for sharing your stories.
 
Swank said:
Anyone want to read mine and comment on it? I'll pm it to you. So far even the giftee has taken no interest.

I'll respond to either story name or my name.
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Me! Me! Me, please! :)

Didn’t THX1138 ask you to PM it to them?
 
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@Swank Sorry for seeming to put you off, no intent at all! I read your story and got one impression then re-read it more thoughtfully again and saw that the path of the story was in who was drinking the tea and who wasn't. And that Tessa became the ARN women and the motels keeper's son became Berry. The completion of the circle or the passing of roles. Corrections refers to who Berry really was and what he has done as a whole. A Jack of all trades who has 'Mastered' them all. :)

@Provincial Just for fun. Our youngest is a Music major and a few weeks ago stopped by after a bad day at work. I had her read 'Chopin's Music Box' and afterwords she listened to Chopin's Spring Waltz. Her mood changed as she commented on how the first part of the Spring Waltz was told in the rhythm of the three fishing poles and the description of the butterflies in flight. Anyway, just had to share with everyone.
 
THX1138 said:
@Provincial Just for fun. Our youngest is a Music major and a few weeks ago stopped by after a bad day at work. I had her read 'Chopin's Music Box' and afterwords she listened to Chopin's Spring Waltz. Her mood changed as she commented on how the first part of the Spring Waltz was told in the rhythm of the three fishing poles and the description of the butterflies in flight. Anyway, just had to share with everyone.
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Oh! I will have to listen to that music and then re-read the story. I have no familiarity with his music, I know only what I read in the book “Briefly, A delicious life” (by Nell Stevens) and what I read in Wikipedia. Thank you!
 
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Hi @Swank, finished your story, loved it. Would like to read a longer version, or more stories written in the same universe.

Or both. In fact, preferably both. :)

Actually, come to think of it, I felt pretty much the same about @THX1138 ‘s “Dolphin” story. It could happily be expanded into a science fiction/police procedural crossover novel.
 
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THX1138 said:
@Swank Sorry for seeming to put you off, no intent at all! I read your story and got one impression then re-read it more thoughtfully again and saw that the path of the story was in who was drinking the tea and who wasn't. And that Tessa became the ARN women and the motels keeper's son became Berry. The completion of the circle or the passing of roles. Corrections refers to who Berry really was and what he has done as a whole. A Jack of all trades who has 'Mastered' them all. :)
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Totally wrong - but I'm glad you enjoyed it!
 
So, I never saw an excerpt of my story here (I may have missed it) but I gave it some time just in case it hadn't been read yet, because I made mine way too long. I couldn't help myself, I was having too much fun writing it :giggle: I won't put the whole thing here because I'm not certain if the recipient wants me to or not, but I'll put an excerpt. It's titled, How Scathach and Cú Chulainn nearly brought about the end of the world and liberated Earth's heroes from eternal boredom, or gone fishin'

In the land of eternal Summer, on the island of everlasting youth, some days could be pretty boring. Most days, really.

But it was the paradise we were promised, right? Us, the legendary heroes of Earth, were exactly where we always hoped to be after we died valiant, tragic, painful deaths. Whatever they called it back on Earth — Tír na nÓg, Valhalla, the Elysian fields, or even the mind state Nirvana — when you got there, everyone just called it the Isle of Pines. Symbolic, sure. Creative? Not so much.

And every day on the Isle of Pines came and went. Forever and ever. Same as ever.

Except one Tuesday in January.

“Oi!” I roused the attention of Conall and Lóegaire, a pair of haughty Irish heroes. They played some fighting game in one of the many rec-rooms in The Hearth. We all lived there. Or afterlived there? That big classical-style building sat at the very center of the island, a monument to our collective greatness. Whatever entertainment you could imagine, you bet it could be found somewhere in The Hearth; pools and cinemas, video arcades and golf courses and cafeterias that always served exactly what you craved.

“Oh Scathach!” Conall twisted his broad shoulders around, shifting his headset off one ear. “Want in on this? We need a third.”

“Don’t bother,” Lóegaire snickered. “She’s probably looking for her wee puppy-dog, aren’t you? How the mighty have fallen, eh.”

“Well, Lóegaire,” I remarked. My blood always boiled whenever he talked about him that way. “One had to rise to the top before he could fall. Not that you would know.”

His controller soared across the room, disrupting a game of chess between (Hua) Mulan and Joan (of Arc). “Feckin’ hell, woman! You’ve killed me.”

“Naw,” Connal said. “You’re just sh*te, mate. He’s out on the cliff, Scathach. Same as every day.”

“Cheers,” I said. “Have a braw day, boys. Ladies.” I gave Mulan and Joan a nod as I made my way out to the cliff.

The Isle of Pines got bonus points for its breathtaking scenery. Forests grew thick, lush with ever-blooming wildflowers. Clouds never clogged our cornflower sky, but mists almost always obscured the seas. Only at dawn and dusk, when the worlds were in between, did the mists dissipate and we could see the shores on Earth.

I came out of the forest onto the grassy clifftop. On that Tuesday evening, we could see a New England harbor. Sailboats went out to dine at sea, while motorboats came in to dock after a long day of fishing.

And there on the bench at the very tip of the clifftop sat my old friend.

His curls shifted in the sunset from gold to red to auburn. He wore the same green terrycloth robe he always wore, the same beat-up Crocs. It made me smile when I saw the charm bracelet on his wrist. I gave it to him years before. It only had a single charm — a watchdog, pointing proudly with its snout.

“Hallo, hound-dog.”
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