# December 2016 - LM - Santa's Confession



## kilroy214 (Nov 30, 2016)

*LITERARY MANEUVERS
*
*Santa's Confession*​
The winner will receive a badge pinned to their profile and given a month’s access to FoWF where you’ll have access to hidden forums and use of the chat room. 

This is a Fiction writing competition, and the prompt is '*Santa's Confession*' Pick your own title, write about whatever you want, as long as it's related in some way to the prompt.


 The Judges for this LM are: *ANONYMOUS
*If you want to judge and I left you out, send me your scores by the deadline. If you're listed here and don't wish to judge, let me know at once (please).

 All entries that wish to retain their first rights should post in the _LM Workshop Thread_.

 All Judges scores will be PMed to *kilroy214*. 

All anonymous entries will be PMed to *kilroy214*.


*Rules*



*All forum rules apply.* The LM competition is considered a creative area of the forum. If your story contains inappropriate language or content, do _not_ forget add a disclaimer or it could result in disciplinary actions taken. Click *here* for the full list of rules and guidelines of the forum.
*No Poetry!* Nothing against you poets out there, but this isn’t a place for your poems. Head on over to the poetry challenges for good competition over there. Some of us fiction people wouldn’t be able to understand your work! Click *here* for the poetry challenges. Play the prose-poem game at your own risk.
*No posts that are not entries into the competition are allowed.* If you have any questions, concerns, or wish to take part in discussion please head over to the *LM Coffee Shop. *We’ll be glad to take care of your needs over there.
*Editing your entry after posting isn’t allowed.* You’ll be given a ten minute grace period, but after that your story may not be scored.
*Only one entry per member.*
*The word limit is 650 words not including the title.* If you go over - Your story will not be counted. Microsoft Word is the standard for checking this. If you are unsure of the word count and don't have Word, please send your story to me and I'll check it for you.


*There are a few ways to post your entry:*




If you aren't too concerned about your first rights, then you can simply post your entry here in this thread.
You can opt to have your entry posted in the [URL="http://www.writingforums.com/threads/169085-December-2016-LM-Santa-s-Confession-Workshop?p=2047816#post2047816"]*Workshop*[/URL] which is a special thread just for LM entries. You would put your story there if you wish to protect your first rights, in case you wish to have the story published one day. Note: If you do post it in the workshop thread, you must post a link to it here in this thread otherwise your story may not be counted.
You may post your story anonymously. To do so, send your story to the host of the competition. If you wish to have us post it in the workshop thread then say so. Your name will be revealed upon the release of the score.



Everyone is welcome to participate. A judge's entry will receive a review by their fellow judges, but it will not receive a score. Please refrain from 'like'-ing or 'lol'-ing an entry until the scores are posted.

Judges: In the tradition of LM competitions of yore, if you could send the scores one week after deadline it will ensure a timely release of scores and minimize the overall implementation of porkforking. Please see the *Judging Guidelines* if you have questions. Following the suggested formatting will be much appreciated, too. 

*This competition will close on:*Thursday, the 15th of December at 11:59 PM, GMT time.​
Scores would be appreciated by Friday, the 30th of December. 

Click here for the current time.


----------



## godofwine (Dec 6, 2016)

*The Last House on Christmas Night – by godofwine (648 Words)


*


----------



## The Fantastical (Dec 6, 2016)

Coca-Cola and Chips


----------



## JaneC (Dec 7, 2016)

The Truth (650 words)


----------



## kilroy214 (Dec 10, 2016)

Santa's Nick'd
by Anonymous

http://www.writingforums.com/thread...a-s-Confession-Workshop?p=2047816#post2047816


----------



## kilroy214 (Dec 10, 2016)

A Gift of Guilt
by Anonymous

http://www.writingforums.com/threads/169085-December-2016-LM-Santa-s-Confession-Workshop


----------



## Makili (Dec 12, 2016)

*The Saint* (645 words)

When I was alive, I used to admire many saints. In many dark hours of my wandering life, in their stories I sought counsel and found solace. But after almost a thousand years of observing countless faces of pious men and women who converge to this crypt where my earthly remains are kept, do I understand what a burden sainthood is.
I never dreamt of being a saint. And yet, somehow, along my path blessed by God's fortune, my deeds were deemed saintly.  

I grew up next to the sea, with eyes fixed on the thin blue line of the horizon and spirit constantly wondering what lies beyond. The only way to find that out was to embark on the pilgrimage to the Holy Land. So I gave up all my material possessions and boarded the first ship with not more than a shirt on my back. That was when people first started treating me differently.

The life I thusly chose often felt lonely. There were moments when I craved friendship and intimacy, and no saint's story nor prayer could provide relief. In one such state, I met three sisters. They were too poor to marry, heading for the path of selling their bodies as an only option against starvation. How beautiful and kind they were! I liked them instantly. Too proud and too shy, I never admitted. So I left them bags of gold in secret, hoping they would buy the attention of at least one of the sisters. Oblivious of my feelings they married one by one, and instead of a companion, I got the label of a secret gift giver.

It was a life of other deprivations, too. Often starving, I would scrape rich people's dumpsters, sometimes even sneak into pantries to get food. Which is how I stumbled upon some kids in the basement of a butcher who wanted to slay them for meats. Rescuing them made me the protector of kids.

And there was that poor sailor who crashed from the mast during a storm that raged on our journey across the Middle Sea. They said I brought him back from the dead. But all I did was use simple skills I picked up on my journeys to aid his body that, although crushed, never really was in the clutches of death.

After that, the eyes that fell on me stopped seeing a man and started seeing a miracle maker, touched by the hand of God. Wherever I went, people followed, asking to be blessed. Even when I died, my flesh wasn't left to turn to ashes. Instead, a group of sea veterans was sent from Italy to recover my remains and bring them here so they can be revered forever.

The legend of me and my miracles continued to spread after my death. Over the centuries I was given many names and features.  Even in this enlightened age, millions still seek blessing from my relics. And even more dress me in red robes and squeeze me down chimneys in a belief that on a certain night I will secretly visit, bearing gifts for those who behaved well.

But, as you can see, I have always been just a man. All I ever wanted was to wander searching for answers, freedom and meaningful interactions. On that path I suffered discomforts and fought temptations. My struggles were like those of any other searching for love and God. If that is what makes a saint, then all men deserve the title. I wish I could tell people to start seeking hope and blessing within themselves and not in my story.

Now I am confined to this underground crypt, weighted down by the huge white edifice built on top of it. The only solace I have these days is in thundering of the sea outside, on whose waves my spirit continues to wander.


----------



## TKent (Dec 13, 2016)

I Didn't Say Anything - http://www.writingforums.com/thread...ion-Workshop?p=2050078&viewfull=1#post2050078

by T. Kent


----------



## rcallaci (Dec 13, 2016)

*Sugar Plums, Mistletoe's, and Screaming Fairies  (650 Words)  (mild language)*

Sugar Plums, Mistletoe's, and Screaming Fairies 

_“Stop screaming and buzzing around in my ear you insufferable pixie bitch, I’m not deaf you over-zealous fool. I just choose not to listen to your endless prattle about me being overweight, and my need to exercise, and change my eating habits.  I’ve been eating sugar plums, cookies, candy canes, crumb cakes, and drinking milk for centuries on my Christmas runs. They may not be nutritious but they’re so delectably delicious and to give them up and demand that the children leave me fruit bars, yogurt, sugarless wafer cakes, and unsweetened tea over milk instead, is just not going to happen.“_

The little pixie brat flew out of his ear and fluttered up his nose. She started plucking out his nose hairs and wreaking havoc with his sinuses. He tried to blow her out his nose but she was too fast for him and somehow got into his throat and slid down into his stomach. That little vicious flea imp was making him nauseous. He shouldn’t have called Tinkerbell an ‘insufferable pixie bitch’.  She could get quite sensitive when it was that time of the month, he should have known better.  She was now poking her fingers in his heart giving him heart pains. 
The maniacal pixie was attempting to give him a mild heart attack and a severe case of diarrhea. He forgot how lethal a little pixie can be. 

_“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry for being so prickly and rude. I admit it; I’m way too fat and probably can lose a few pounds. But please don’t make me go cold turkey. Eating cookies and drinking a glass of milk at every stop is one of my endearing signature moves. Also my round belly and hearty laugh is legendary. How would it look if they saw a thin Santa with a wimpy laugh climbing down the chimney? You know it would look ridiculous. We need to compromise a little. So please, I’m begging you, find it in your heart to forgive me, get out of my body, and let’s talk.”  _

He ran to the outhouse as she bored her way through his colon, found an opening, and flew out. He reached the toilet just in time. He felt like all of his insides were pouring out of him.  He stayed in the toilet for the remainder of the night. He assumed Tinkerbell was probably in the woods thinking things over.  Old Nick became dehydrated but was grateful that was the only price he had to pay for incurring the wrath of the fairy queen. 
............​ 
_“Wake Up! Mr Cringle, Wake Up! It’s time to get that fat old body out of bed. The reindeer need feeding and the elves need to know what toys are to be made today. Don’t worry I also made you breakfast, poached eggs and eggnog.”_

I was afraid to open my eyes. If she was in her natural form as the stunningly beautiful forever young looking fairy queen, I was in for a mighty tongue lashing amongst other things. If she was in her little pixie mode, then she was still angry, and I was in for a lot of pain.  I truly hoped she was in her wifely mode, it meant that she forgave me and was ready to talk. 
_“Don’t be a baby.” _Said Tinkerbell,_ “Open those beautiful blue eyes, I’m sure you’ll be relieved at what you see.”_

I opened them and to my relief Mrs. Jessica Cringle, AKA, Mrs. Mary Christmas Claus was staring down at me with a warm smile. She said,

_“Okay Pan, we’ll do it your way. We’ll do it in stages, gradually, and in a few decades we’ll get you fit and trim. You’re taking this Santa Claus role very seriously, but I would like to see the Fairy King now and again. “ _

_“It’s a deal; let’s seal it with a kiss under the mistletoe.”_













Merry Christmas​ The End​ 








_RC_
_12-13-2016_
_©Robert F. Callaci All Rights Reserved_

​


----------

