Day ten can be read here.

Isla tapped the icicles that hung from the branches of the trees with her fingers as she passed, smiling to herself as she heard the clinking noise they made. She was deep in the tunnel of trees now and when she looked back towards the entrance all she could see was the dark twisted branches of the trees with icicles hanging off them. As she carried on walking through the tunnel of trees, she heard another clinking sound behind her. She thought someone else must be tapping the icicles, but when Isla turned round she could see nothing as she squinted through the gloom the trees created.

Whenever Isla started walking the clinking started up again. If she walked, the sound was slow and steady, if she ran, the clinking sound went faster trying to gain on her. Isla shivered. Someone or something she couldn’t see was following her. She started running through the tunnel of trees ignoring the deafening echo that came from the clinking sound as it followed her. She ran until the tree branches got too thick and close together for her to clamber round them. She was stuck in the tunnel of trees and the clinking sound was quickly getting closer.

Day six can be read here.

The recipe said it would taste like mulled wine. The recipe also said it would only take an hour to make and Louise had taken twice that time preparing the ingredients. It was now in the oven and she was double checking she had followed the recipe, put in all the right amounts when it said so. She had. Definitely. But when she looked through the glass door of the oven the cake rising inside didn’t look anything like the picture in the glossy recipe book and her kitchen just smelt of cake. Not mulled wine cake at all.

When at long last the timer went off and the cake was done, she took it out and let it cool. She couldn’t resist trying a piece when it was still hot. Besides, she needed to test whether it did taste like mulled wine after all. She cut a tiny slither and ate it. It didn’t taste like mulled wine. It didn’t taste too bad, but it was not what she had imagined from reading the recipe.

She didn’t wait for it to cool. She couldn’t take this cake, could she? The next day at work when everyone else was sampling all the foods people had brought in for the last day of work before Christmas, Louise tried to hide her cake so no-one would eat it but Mickey noticed and came over to her. “Is this the famous mulled wine cake I heard you were going to make?” he asked, pointing to the cake on his plate.

Louise nodded, wondering what he would say about her gone-wrong recipe. “Well, you must have cooked it in the dark,” he laughed. “You made it with Bailey’s instead of wine! Though I do prefer this to wine I must say,” he said picking up the slice of cake and putting the whole thing in his mouth at once.

For day 4 click here.

The lights were already on the Christmas tree. Multi-coloured and flashing. They flashed at an almost intolerable frequency. The children had chosen them almost twenty years before — when they had in fact been children — and Esme had never once had to replace a bulb. She was going to tolerate the flashing until a bulb broke, then she was going to get some tasteful yellow lights – ones that looked like candlesticks or snowflakes and, more importantly, stayed on. 

Next went the baubles; luckily, the hideous ones that the children had chosen — again almost twenty years before — had all been smashed by careless hands, so Esme had lovely tasteful baubles — red and green — that matched all the way up the tree. The tinsel went on last. Tinsel was just tinsel. It always looked as if a child had been let loose in a glitter factory regardless of how long ago it had been bought. Esme sighed and shoved it on, hiding the shinier bits where they wouldn’t reflect off the flashing multi-coloured lights.

Finally, she was ready to put the fairy on top. Again, they had had a toy for such a long time that the poor thing had lost one of shoes and last year the cat had eaten part of its wings, so Esme had decided to throw it away once and for all — her children’s empathy for decorations be damned. She had bought a lovely fairy from a shop in Covent Garden the last time she had visited the children. When she told them that she had thrown away the cat-eaten fairy they had reacted as if she had told them she had thrown away the cat itself and not just a decoration.

The fairy she had bought had a silver dress and shiny metallic wings that the cat wouldn’t be able to chew through. It had a crown on its head and a tiny wand stuck into its hand. She was so looking forward to putting it on the tree, but when she looked through the decoration box she couldn’t find it. Puzzled, she went to check if she had left it in the car, but no. She remembered taking it in from the car anyway. She went back to the Christmas tree. She was sure she had left it round here so she would know to put it on the tree, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Then, out of the corner of her eye she saw the cat-eaten fairy alone in the corner of the decoration box. She had thrown that away months ago. She was sure she had.

She sighed to herself, admitting defeat. it seemed even a cat was no match for this fairy. She put the one shod, broken-winged fairy on the top of the tree. At least the children will be pleased, she thought as she left the room, leaving the flashing lights on.

 

The snow was falling thick and fast now. Molly put another log on the fire and shivered as she tried to warm herself up. “Mummy.” Molly turned away from the fire to see her eldest daughter – who was supposed to be asleep – holding a teddy bear in one hand and a copy of The Snow Queen in the other. “Can you read me this, please?” she asked, holding up the book in case Molly hadn’t seen it.

Molly sighed, “I thought you were asleep,” but her daughter shook her head.

“None of us are. The snow woke us up,”

“How can snow wake you up? It’s silent!” She sighed again. “Come on then as it’s Christmas. I’ll read it to you three if you promise to go straight to sleep after!” Her daughter nodded in excitement and they went upstairs to the children’s bedroom.

Molly got to the line “She flies where the swarm hangs in the thickest clusters,” and she thought the children were almost asleep but her son spoke up. “The snow is falling quite fast here, mummy, do you think the snow queen is here?”

“Maybe,” said Molly. Within moments, the three children had all got out of bed and were knelt on the window seat staring out at the thickly falling snow to try to catch a glimpse of the snow queen. Molly knew she should be trying to get them back into bed but the image of them all peering through the window was too good for her not to take a photo of it.

She went downstairs to fetch her phone. In the living room of the holiday cottage, the fire she had lit earlier had gone out. The room was dark and the cold. Going over to the fire to see what had caused it go out, Molly shivered. She picked up her phone and went back upstairs. She would sort the fire out once the children had gone to sleep. She took the picture and her eldest daughter turned round. “I don’t think she’s there,” she said to everyone else in the room and they all got back into bed.

Molly left the room and looked at the photo she had taken of them looking out the window. She gasped in amazement and saw her breath dance in the air. In the photo as clear as day was a face that seemed carved from ice.

A few years ago on another blog I uploaded twelve short stories in the run up to Christmas based around the lyrics of the song Twelve Days of Christmas. The original stories can be found below. This year I will be doing the same thing but without using song lyrics as the prompts. The first story will be going up later today.

Partridge in a Pear Tree: Summer plucked one of the pears from the tree and bit into it, the juice dripping down her chin. The day was sunny and warm, a partridge flew into the tree knocking a few more ripe pears from the tree that landed with a thump on the grass beneath. The bird sang. Summer scrambled to pick up all the pears so she could eat them later. The bird flew away again before it had finished it’s song and the garden felt silent without the sound.
That winter the snow fell thick upon the ground, but the tree still bore pears. Heavy and ripe they fell from the tree and dropped silently in the snow. Summer thought the silence was too loud. She no longer ate the pears from the tree and the unfinished song of the partridge that had never returned, roared in her ears like a spell.

Two Turtle doves: The invitations arrived today. Ornately decorated with two turtle doves on either side of the page forming a heart. Symbols of love in folklore. I threw them in the bin along with the engagement ring.

Three French Hens: “They speak French,” said Hayley as she scattered the bird seed. Her younger sister Alana looked at her skeptically but Hayley stood her ground.

“They do,”she said.

One of the hens squawked and Hayley pointed “See. I understood that,”

Her younger sister narrowed her eyes. “It doesn’t sound like the French I’ve heard,” she said dropping handfuls of seed onto the floor. The birds descended, squawking all the time.

Hayley sighed. “That’s because you’ve only learnt human French. Why would a hen know human French?”

“We didn’t get them in France though. They’re from that farmer in Devon,” persisted Alana.

“No, but they came from France originally,”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I asked them,” said Hayley, “And they told me. In Hen French.”

Hayley had finished scattering her bird seed and went back inside, brushing her hands on her clothes to get the seeds off them.

Alana did not believe that the hens spoke French, nor that her sister could understand them if they did. She was fairly certain her sister had been lying. Fairly certain. She had finished scattering her bird seed, she checked inside the bag just to make sure. There was nothing left. The hens crowded round her squawking for more. “Sorry, there is no more,” she said, turning the bag inside out and shaking it to prove it to them. Then just before she turned to go back inside the house, she checked and double checked her older sister was not watching and out of earshot. The she turned back to the hens and whispered “Au revoir,” as she closed the house door. Just to make sure.

Four Calling Birds: It was too early for the birds to be singing. Sue put the pillow over her head and tried to ignore the sound.
“Don’t birds ever want a lie in?” she muttered.
The pillow didn’t work. The sheer volume of the bird song outside her window permeated through the fabric of the pillow.
Sue threw the pillow down to the end of the bed in disgust and sat up, listening to the bird song.It was quite beautiful, she admitted. Even in her state, it was quite beautiful.
Sue’s heart stopped for a second. They weren’t singing at all. Now she had thrown the pillow away, she could hear. The birds were calling his name.
Over and over, again and again, they called his name. As if they were mocking her.
Sue rose from the bed, went over to her window and opened it. A bird came to perch on the window ledge, head cocked on one side. It called his name and she batted it away in anger. The bird fell close to the ground, Sue peered out after it and thought it was going to hit the ground, but it unfurled it’s wings and swooped back up to it’s friends. The other birds fell silent for a moment, before they flew straight towards the open window where Sue stood. Calling his name all the while.

Five Gold Rings: One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
He laid them down on the table, with a clunk as he counted. Five wedding rings for five wives. They were all gone now, of course. He looked at the box which contained another gold ring. For wife number six. What would happen to her? He hadn’t decided yet.

Six Geese a Laying: £500 for the rent. £300 for the bills. At least £100 would have to be spent on food over the course of the month and he had wanted to buy some new shoes. These ones were so old his toes poked out the ends where they had disintegrated into nothing.
The goose started squawking from outside. He sighed. New shoes would have to wait. He had forgotten to factor in the money needed to feed the goose. He didn’t know why he didn’t sell it, it was probably a sentimental reason, though he spent most of his time complaining about the goose instead of being sentimental about it. He took the last bag of feed from by the door and clutching it in his hand he went outside. He dropped the bag of feed on the floor in his surprise. Next to the goose, so bright he had to shield his eyes, was a great big golden egg.
This was why he had never sold the goose!
He walked over and picked up the goose, dancing round the yard with the animal, who seemed less than amused and bit him on the arm, but he was too happy to care. Still smiling, he picked up the egg and went straight into town to buy his new shoes.
The next day, there was another one. This he used to pay off his debts, and his rent for the whole year.
The third day he bought a whole new wardrobe.
The fourth, a car.
The fifth he convinced his landlord to sell him the house, so he would never have to pay rent again.
The sixth day, convinced that his money troubles were over forever he quit his job, citing as reason that he had a goose that laid golden eggs, his co-workers thought him quite mad, but when he left on his desk the sixth egg the goose had laid that morning, they reconsidered their opinions.
On the seventh day, he went back outside into the garden to pick up the golden egg, but there was none. The goose was gone. There wasn’t even any feed left by the door to suggest the goose had ever been there.
And over the past six days he had not bought himself any food.

Seven Swans A Swimming: One of the carriages on the ride was broken again. A wheel had fallen off leaving the painted swan lopsided and unable to stay on the track around the ride. It wasn’t dangerous exactly, the swan would still go round and round, just slightly wonkily, but according to the manager of the theme park, no-one was to be allowed on the ride except Evan until he had fixed it. As Evan screwed the wheel back on to the side, he tried not to listen to the sounds of carnival music from outside, the songs were so repetitive that it had started annoying even ten minutes after he had started working at the theme park, now after ten years he was resigned to the songs and tried his best to block them out.
From inside the ride, there was a creaking noise, as if someone had taken just one step towards Evan.
Evan turned round but there was no-one there, so he went back to screwing the wheel onto the swan carriage.
No-one else at the theme park had worked there as long as Evan. There had been people over the years that like Evan had got to ten years, but no-one ever stayed here any longer than ten years except the manager.
He wanted to leave, ten years was way too long to stay in a job like this, he had started applying to other jobs, asked his manager for a reference, who hadn’t been best pleased that the park’s mechanic wanted to leave him, but as of yet no luck.
There was another creaking sound behind him, closer this time.
The wheel wasn’t going back on. He looked more closely at the axel of the carriage. It hadn’t fallen off, it had been sawed off, the broken metal had jagged edges from where it had been vandalised. Evan put his thumb on one of the sharp edges, and immediately took it away again, as the jagged edge cut his skin. He put his thumb in his mouth to stop the bleeding, one drop of blood fell from his thumb onto the floor of the ride and he heard one last creak behind him.

Eight Maids A Milking: James could hear the milkmaid singing as she worked. The song drifted up to his open window and into his study. Though he could not hear the words being sung, the tune settled itself in his head and he found himself humming as he worked.
The day was hot and there wasn’t even a strong enough breeze from the open window to rustle the papers on his desk.
The next day it rained and the milkmaid was gone. There had been an outbreak of smallpox in the town and her mother had contracted it. The milkmaid was in quarantine to see if she also had the disease. James hummed the song to himself that the milkmaid had been singing just the day before.
Within two weeks the milkmaid was back. It was a miracle, or so everyone said.
The weather was warm again and James had his window open. He hummed the tune which drifted through the open window down to where the milkmaid worked.
The tune reached her, settling itself in her head. “That sounds just like the song I used to sing,” she thought.

Nine Ladies Dancing: Back and forth. Left to right. They rehearsed the dance moves for the hundredth time.
The show was opening tonight and a talent spotter was going to be there, but there was only one part and thirty people performing. As they rehearsed the moves for the last time Jane and Sarah were trying to see how they could make sure the talent spotter would notice them before the other.
Jane was in the front row and Sarah was behind in the second row, but Sarah was slightly shorter than Jane and thought it only fair she go in front so she would be visible to the audience. They had practiced the dance moves so much that they had managed to come up with a way that they could both be in the front row for half of the song each and could dance round each other without messing up the dance.
Once the performance had started, Jane and Sarah began in the positions they were supposed to be in and as the song progressed tap danced round each other, but Millie a dancer to their left in the front row mis-stepped as Sarah was moving round Jane back to the second row of dancers. Millie tripped over and Sarah and Millie fell off the stage.
The other dancers tried to keep going, but with two of the dancers not in place and instead entangled together in the orchestra pit arguing quite loudly about whose fault the fall had been, no-one was that successful at making sure the show went on.
At the end of the performance it was deemed a failure, despite all the hours of rehearsal they had put in, though the talent spotter had not been able to make the show after all, so there was a chance to do it all again tomorrow.

Ten Lords A Leaping: The house lays empty now. High up on the hill you’d think someone would have noticed the flames. He revved the engine of his car and drove away from the shell of the house. There was nothing left in it for him now, nor for anyone.
But he had jumped and he had lived, even if the house had not.

Eleven Pipers Piping: The music drifted down the hallway and into Laura’s room. Slow and sad, it ended one note too early, Laura thought. The absence of the final chord left the whole song feeling incomplete and creepy. Laura waited for the final note, but she fell asleep before it was played, if it ever was.
Laura asked her father about the music over breakfast the next morning.
Asked whether one of the servants was practicing and whether they knew they had missed the final note which had made the music seem so full of longing to Laura’s ears.
Her father didn’t reply. He stopped eating, porridge halfway to his mouth, dripped off the spoon and back into the bowl drop by drop.
Her father told her never to mention the music again and to pay it no heed if she heard it that night.
As Laura lay in bed, the same music came floating into her room.
Laura got out of bed and followed the sound, unable to resist.

Twelve Drummers Drumming: The sound echoed off the walls of the caves, bouncing back to where Janet stood. It was the noise of her classmates running around through the smugglers’ caves.
There were ghosts in these caves, so the story went, but it was just a story, just something to keep people out of the caves when the smugglers used them.
Anyone who entered the cave uninvited would get caught by the drummer, went the story.
Janet, away from her classmates, pressed the button on the display to tell the story. The sound of drumming from the recording filled the cave, drowning out the sounds of her classmates.
When the drumming stopped and the display finished, the cave seemed silent and strange. Janet turned the corner to rejoin her classmates and frowned.
They weren’t there.
The tapping of drums started again; grew closer and closer and louder and louder. Janet screamed.