Finish the Story – Dec #4 – The Snow Angel,

Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith has tagged me in one of her brilliant Finish the Story challenges.

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/12/13/finish-the-story-dec-4/

Rules

  1. Copy the story as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)
  2. Add somehow to the story in which ever style and length you choose
  3. Be sure to pingback or comment on the original post please. Please use the tag THWFTS.
  4. Tag only 1 person to continue the story
  5. Have fun!

Part One: 

Harriet loved the Christmas season. Everything went up Thanksgiving evening and didn’t come down until New Year’s Eve. People could see her Christmas tree from the other end of the block. 

This year, Harriet’s theme was the snow angel. Her tree was flocked with white, glistening snow and decorated with cherubs and angels of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Tiny angels surrounded snowmen on the mantle and Santa even had a young angel girl riding in the sleigh with him, while Mrs. Claus entertained a Snow Angel Brownie troop back at the North Pole.

Her house was filled with Christmas music and everywhere she looked, there was joy. Everywhere except in her heart. No one knew how lonely Harriet was and how much she longed for company. Oh, neighbors would stop at the door when caroling and families would wave as they walked past, but none came to visit.

Two weeks before Christmas a snowstorm struck the town and left behind nearly a foot of snow. Mr. Chen and Mr. Howard were kind enough to snowplow the neighborhood’s sidewalk. They salted the main walk and all the way up to Harriet’s door. 

“Thank you, gentlemen,” she said as they tossed a final handful of salt on her porch. “Would you like to come in for hot chocolate?”

The two men smiled and made their apologies for not having time, and went on their way. Harriet understood, but was saddened just the same. She closed her front door and went into the kitchen to pour herself a cup. While looking out the back window, she gasped. 

“Well, I wonder who made that,” she said. “It’s a perfect snow angel.”

She looked around for footprints, but there were none. Just a perfect little angel in the snow.

Part two:

Then as she stood there in her pink woollen cardigan, with her slippers slowly getting wet from the melting snow, Harriet, gazed up and saw something amazing, something magical.

As Angel hovered in the sky, just by her old Oak tree, flapping its white’s wings. He was a male angel, who looked quite old and had a lopsided golden halo over his bald head.

“Oh, Excuse me. I do apologise for making an impression in the snow. I’ve not had these wings for very long and I jumped out of your tree, but didn’t get the hang of them in time, so I landed face down in your garden. I am sorry. I’m just so clumsy, I fumble all the time.”

Slightly bewildered, Harriet gaped open-mouthed and just managed to mumble “That’s quite alright”.

“My Names Clarence. What’s yours?” he flew down towards her and held out his hand then awkwardly nearly knocked her over. 

“I’m Harriet,” she said as she shook his hand. It was warm and he had a nice friendly smile, so she decided to be hospitable. “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” she offered.

“Well, that’s very kind of you. Yes, I would, very much. I haven’t had a good cup of tea in simply ages.”

As she put the kettle on, she heard banging coming from the living room. He certainly was a very clumsy Angel.

Clarence had knocked over her easel and there was paint all over the floor. He picked up her latest picture, it was a painting of the local park, with the ducks on the pond and some children playing with a toy boat.

“Did you paint this?” Clarence asked.

“Yes, yes I did. Do you like it?” Harriet was so pleased. She had learned to paint at college and had always enjoyed it, but no one had ever come in for long enough for her to show her paintings to. They were mostly of the local area, they usually had children in them.

“I think it is a masterpiece,” Clarence said, “I think you need to share this with other people. In fact, I’ve made up my mind, I am going to……”

To be continued …….


So Who shall I pass the Baton on to? Who would like to have a go? 

How about Sadje at Keep it Alive? 

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/13/masterpiece/

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/12/13/rdp-thursday-fumble/

Finish the Story, Dec #2 – The Train Ticket

I have been tagged by Teresa, The Haunted Wordsmith to take part in one of her marvellous ‘pass the parcel’ type story challenges. I really love these. See her post below:

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/12/05/finish-the-story-dec-2/comment-page-1/#comment-7456

I have someone in mind to tag next, but if this is something that you would find interesting to take part in, please tell me in the comments below or let Teresa know, so I can bear you in mind in future. 

Rules

  1. Copy the story as it appears when you receive it (and the rules please)
  2. Add somehow to the story in which ever style and length you choose
  3. Be sure to pingback or comment on the original post please. Please use the tag THWFTS.
  4. Tag only 1 person to continue the story
  5. Have fun!

The Train Ticket

Ashley loved history, books, fashion, and trains more than anything else in life. In fact, nothing made her happier than reading a book set in the Victorian age or roaring twenties that took place on a train. Not the modern electric trains or diesel trains that ran across the country today. She loved steam engines and the fantasy they carried with them.

These fantasies are what brought her to the derelict Franklin Depot thirty-five miles away from home in the middle of nowhere. There used to be a town here. Her history teacher loved to tell stories of the old mining town in its glory days filled with life. Now all that was left was the depot and a few lines of track.

As she walked up and down the depot, the morning sun was just peering over the tree tops and illuminated the station in gold. She smiled at the depot and closed her eyes.

“This must have been beautiful,” she said.

Suddenly a loud whoosh and whistle from behind her startled her. She grabbed her chest and turned around. There, behind her was a grand steam engine. Puffs of steam and the huffing of pistons engulfed her. 

“How…how is–“

“Is this your ticket, Ashley?” a man in a conductor’s uniform asked. He smiled and held out a ticket.

Ashley wanted to say “no”…to scream…to run away…to say “yes”…to get on the train…to travel the world by train. She looked at the conductor and …

To Be Continued….. My addition.

… surrendered to her heart. Her head was still screaming to her that this can’t be real, reality doesn’t work like this. How did he know your name? She ignored these thoughts and reached out to take the ticket.

The Conductor then gave a polite cough and said “If you will excuse me for saying so, Miss Ashley, you’re not quite correctly attired. Could you make your way to the Station and see Mrs Addams, she’ll ensure you are bedecked as a lady befitting a first-class ticket.”

Ashley glanced down at her clothes. She had on a pair of blue Jeans with her brown ankle boots. Her top half was covered in a loose-fitting red pullover. Of course, she hadn’t expected to be travelling first class on a steam locomotive that day. It wouldn’t have entered her wildest dreams.

The station building was carefully constructed to look like something out of an old western film or a theatre set. The wooden clapperboards were painted cream. As she wandered into the deserted waiting room, she spotted a lady standing behind the counter wearing clothes right out of the Victorian age.

She wandered over to her and asked: “Excuse me, are you Mrs Addams?”

“Why, yes my dear. You must be Miss Ashley. Please come on through that door and I’ll find something suitable for you. You’ve got a few minutes before the train departs.”

Mrs Addams selected a simple but elegant green velvet dress trimmed with black around the hem. She also helped her into a corset which squeezed her slim figure into the typical hourglass shape of the late 1800s. Once she put on the dress, she instantly felt more comfortable. She’d never worn a corset before, but it made her feel more secure and whole. It was like a miracle, the clothes were inspiring her to feel a level of confidence that she’d never felt before. She loved the way the dress swished as she walked. Mrs Addams then fixed her hair up, with about a dozen pins and affixed a wide-brimmed black hat with a green feather, on her heat with a large hat pin. 

At that point, a loud whistle from the train echoed through the empty station.

“Oh, quick dear, you don’t want to miss the train” Mrs Addams said.

“Thank You, Mrs Addams” Ashley said as she ran to the train.

She climbed up the iron steps and opened the carriage door only to find…..

To be Continued…..

So Who’s next? 

I am going to choose my pal, Rory, A Guy Called Bloke:

This story also includes the following Word Prompts:

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/12/05/inspiring/

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/12/05/your-daily-word-prompt-miracle-december-5-2018/