A Collection of Short/Long Stories I've Written;

Mildred's Nostalgia: Short Story [Holiday Fun Comp]

Summary:

   A true story on my own life as a child at Christmas, for I am someone who has a nostalgia for my childhood past.

Mildred's just a young girl who still loves Christmas, and the magic of it.

 (All Rights are to myself, Amanda-Rose, the author.)

         ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Can you see him moving?”

     The corners of a young girls mouth twitched, pulled up, and the breath that flew out of her mouth at that moment as she smirked spread across the section of the window her face was pressed against. Inside the window of the restaurant was a mechanical Santa Clause, pretending to write down names on a list made of plastic.

     “I wonder if your names on that list, Mildred?”

      “It’s not.” The girl said confidently, turning around to her grandmother and her father, who were wrapped up in scarfs. “My names on the real list; Santa’s list in the North Pole. Daddy told me. Isn’t that right, daddy?”

      Mildred battered her bright, big blue eyes at her father, a smile slipping onto her face once more. Her wavy blonde hair blew in the wind and her father, a forty-six year old man with a lack of hair, kneeled down level to the girl. “That’s right. But you know…”

     “What?” the girl said excitedly. “Know what?”

     “You have to go to bed early for Santa to arrive.”

      Her bottom lip quivered, Christmas was her time of the year. Her birthday just five days before and her sisters’ birthday was tomorrow, the twenty fifth of December. It was her time of the year to receive presents and undivided attention. She didn’t want to waste it by sleeping. But, as a child, she knew she had to sleep. Santa wouldn’t come if she didn’t sleep.

     “I know,” she sighed. “Five more minutes?”

      Smiling, the man kissed his daughters cheek. “Okay, and then we’ll go home.”

     “Yes.”

     “Good girl.”

      Peter then stood up next to his mother who held out her hand for the young girl to grab. She did so, and then held out her own hand, reaching up to Peter. Her fingers brushed against his and then the man caught her hand before it could drop. They both swung her arms and she giggled; freely. Spending time with her family was good. Her father usually worked late, so Mildred often stayed with her parents at weekends and after school. She’d owned a mobile phone since she was five, spending Saturdays out around the fishing village with her friends – none of whom held a mobile phone. She wasn’t rich, just normal and mature for her age. Expect now, in the middle of December. As someone who still believed in Santa, now was her time to act childish.

     “Do you want to go look in the church?”

     “Okay.”

     Mildred wasn’t religious, but she loved the nativity play that was set up in the entrance of the grand building. Mary, Joseph, Jesus and the donkey were placed in a setting and Mildred would smile every time she saw them. It was the story of Jesus’ birth. The story that every child loved to be told at Christmas. She happily let go of her relations hands and skipped over to the ornaments. She smiled at how all of them were smiling. They were the perfect, happy, little family. Mildred turned around to her own family. Her father and her grandmother – the perfect family. Well, part of her perfect family. Her grandfather was home, in the chair, his eyes were probably closed as he listened to German music, something he’d always been a fan of. Mildred’s mother, and sister, were also part of her family, just only a few hundred miles away.