9. Flash Fiction: The Color Red
Emily Barnett hosts a flash fiction challenge on Instagram every Friday. (Flash fiction, for those of you who don’t know, is a type of fiction that is very short, usually no more than a few hundred words.) I’m sharing my contributions on my blog for those who don’t follow me on Insta. Use the button at the bottom of this post to sign up and get any new blog posts straight to your inbox.
Photo by Swedish Press
I wrote my grandfather’s obituary this week, but couldn’t include one of my favorite memories with him, so instead I used it as the inspiration for this week’s story for the #flashfictionmagic challenge on Instagram, since the challenge was The Color Red, and the Tomte’s hat is always, always red. Enjoy!
“The midnight wind curled round the barn and o’er top of the moonlit snow, And quiet as a cat, the Tomte came, creeping in so soft and slow. His gifts he left by the door of the house for the family now sleeping sound, And when they woke in the morn with cries of delight, not a footstep could be found.”
Grandpa closed the book and looked at the children nestled close on either side. “I think it’s time for the Tomte to come,” he said. “Don’t you?”
Child-sized eyes lit with delight as he stood — and stretched — and asked their mother for the phone. Child-sized lips held child-sized breaths as he dialed, and waited, and spoke in a tongue they didn’t know.
When the call had been made, he hung up the phone and turned with a twinkling eye. “He won’t come if you might see him,” said he. “Remember, the Tomte is shy. When he stomps on the porch and rings his bells, to the bedroom you must fly, and don’t come out ‘til we say it’s alright. This isn’t a night to spy!”
The clock had barely struck the hour when bells rang in the night outside. Boots stomped on the porch at the door, and the children ran to hide, filled with thrills of wonder — and just a bit of fright. Had the Tomte really come for them, all the way across the sea? Did Grandpa really know him? Did the Tomte call him friend?
Maybe, they thought. After all, our Grandpa is a Swede.
When their mother came to get them again, the children found new gifts laid out — one for each on the floor where no gifts had been before.
The Tomte had come! He was real; it was true! They’d never doubt again.
(Until next year, of course. Who knew what would happen then...!)