As this is the last weekend before Christmas, TWQ (The Weekend Question) asks what you like and dislike about the whole thing.
What likes and dislikes do you have about the whole Christmas occasion? List as many as you wish.
My answers are:
* Christmas Eve evening is a favourite time, as all the preparation is over and I can wait for the big day.
* Getting up on the day itself, knowing it's a different one from all others in the year....something I've always thought from childhood.
* The fact that some shops open their Christmas section as early as August, and some towns put their lights up in September.
* Shopping in December on pavements that are too full to hold the people. Little wonder that so many shop online.
* The fact that few people seem to know what Christmas actually means, and see it as just a time to get the presents.
Now it's over to you....
But before I go....
Happy Christmas to you all!
Here's what I would like to do. I want to create a story that branches out in a variety of different, unexpected ways. I don't know how realistic it is, but that's what I'm aiming for. Hopefully, at least one thread of the story can make a decent number of hops before it dies out.If you are one of the carriers of this story virus (i.e. you have been tagged and choose to contribute to it), you will have one responsibility, in addition to contributing your own piece of the story: you will have to tag at least one person that continues your story thread. So, say you tag five people. If four people decide to not participate, it's okay, as long as the fifth one does. And if all five participate, well that's five interesting threads the story spins off into.Not a requirement, but something your readers would appreciate: to help people trace your own particular thread of the narrative, it will be helpful if you include links to the chapters preceding yours. Splotchy
The bus was more crowded than usual. It was bitterly cold outside, and I hadn't prepared for it. I noticed that a fair number of the riders were dressed curiously. As I glanced around, I stretched my feet and kicked up against a large, heavy cardboard box laying under the seat in front of me. Splotchy
I couldn't believe my eyes. Surrepticiously, I tried to establish, without giving it away, if anyone else had seen what I had. For ten years I had been looking for that box. What looked like an ordinary cardboard box to most contained something most precious. Only by the small golden "P" was I able to identify what I was looking at. (Freida Bee)
How the box got here, or how I happened to be on this bus with it now--these questions were immaterial. I just had to get that box. The bus slowed to a stop, so I steadied myself. Just as I was about to make a grab for the box, however, it moved. Someone else was picking it up to take it away! I had to stop her! (Dguzman)
"Ack!" I expclaimed. "Unhand my box, Madam!" But my woeful cry was to no avail as the woman with my box had already turned her back to me, and was quickly walking down the aisle towards the door. Oh, cruel fate! The woman with my box was escaping! I hastily grabbed my valise and nudged my way past the other passengers to get to the front of the bus. (Zaius)
The woman was already out the door by the time I reached the front of the bus. I aimed for the door myself only to see it close right in front of my face. I turned towards the bus driver and gave him my best sheepish, innocent looking shrug. He replied with an impatient grunt but pulled the lever anyway and I was out the door in a flash.
“Excuse me ma’am,” I said as I grabbed the woman by her shoulder. “I’m sorry but I believe that you have my box there.”
“Your what?” she replied in a shocked gasp. “No, this is my box. See, it has this P on it, that stands for Persephone. That’s me.”
“I really must insist,” I insisted. “If you would just open the box and look inside, I’m sure that the contents will show you that it’s mine.”
“I’ll do no such thing. You’ve got a lot of nerve, mister.”
Just then, I looked up as the bus began to pull out into traffic. There, looking out of the back window was a small boy armed with an impish grin and proudly holding a cardboard box with a golden “P” on the side. Jon, Intergalactic Gladiator
The real box was still inside the bus! I chased after the bus, hoping I could reach it in time when it got to the next stop.
I pushed past all the pedestrians who were going the opposite way. I could see the bus slowing down as it was coming to a halt. Passengers started filing out, but the small boy was still inside.
I reached the bus just as the doors were closing. I forced them open and entered the bus. The boy was still grinning at me.
"I want that box!" I shouted to him, and all the passengers looked at me in amazement. Jean-Luc Picard
At this point, I should infect five people, but instead if any of you wish to continue this story, please do so and let me know.