We held a Christmas Story Contest at work last week, providing participants with the start of a story and instructions to finish it with up to 500 words. As an added challenge, writers had to include four words in their story. For the adult story, the words to include were

• Stocking stuffer
• Silent night
• Mistletoe
• Pine needles

The story started as follows:

He’d never noticed a door there before. The library used to have only two entrances, but today it had an odd appearance. Lonna wasn’t at her desk, either. On impulse, he pushed open the door, and behold, a giant Christmas tree!

I had to join in for fun, especially since it was the piece we worked on in our monthly writer’s group meeting at the library. My story was ineligible for the competition, of course, but it was fun to write something short and light for the holiday season.

Here’s how I ended the story:

It was certainly not the most beautiful tree he’d ever seen, but rather it had a nostalgic look to it. It was a Balsam with widely spaced branches, shining with tinsel and large colorful bulbs. There was a string of popcorn adorning it as well as glass ornaments that were tarnished with age. But there were other ornaments among the pine needles that he couldn’t quite identify.

He drew closer and found tiny little books hanging from the branches – copies of Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, Silent Night by Stanley Weintraub, The Best Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson, The Greatest Gift by Philip Van Doren Stern, A Christmas Story by Jean Shepherd, The Mistletoe Inn by Richard Paul Evans, and so many more. It was a treasured collection of Christmas books, many of which have stood the test of time.

He reached out and pulled off the copy of Little Women, taking it to a cozy chair sitting near the tree. On the table next to the chair was a conveniently placed magnifying lens that would allow him to read the tiny print.

As he began to read, something strange happened. He was enveloped in a light mist, and everything around him dimmed. Before he knew it, the mist dissipated, and he found himself in a sparsely furnished and chilly living room. He looked around and saw a woman and four girls. They were discussing ideas for stocking stuffers at a time when there was so little money for extras. It finally dawned on him that this was Marmee and the March daughters. Right about then, Marmee looked directly at him and asked if he’d heard any news about the war. He stared at her a few moments, uncertain how to respond. He gave a vague answer, and before he knew it they were enjoying a conversation about Christmas as though they were old friends. While Beth played the piano, they all sang Silent Night. But before they’d finished it the mist returned, and he was once again in the secret room in the library.

One by one, he pulled off more of the tiny books. As he read through them, he was drawn into the scenes, transported through time to become a character in each story. What an amazing gift!

The daylight hours dwindled away, and he realized how late it was getting. As he carefully placed the last book back onto the tree, he turned and went back through the door. He found himself back outside of the library again. No longer was there any evidence of the “secret” entrance, and he questioned whether what he had seen and heard was real or just a figment of his imagination.

Maybe it was, in fact, a Christmas miracle.