Papa, whiskers twitching with a smile, wiped his cow shoes before wrapping them in a scrap of cloth and hiding them in the back of the closet. On this moonless night, he’d walked deep into the woods under the blanket of darkness. Jars of moonshine, wrapped in burlap, hid in his pockets. A subtle sign of the silent rebellion we mountain people engaged in. Settled at the table, lantern low, he used his knife to sharpen the stump of pencil…
The gaggle of white-haired women hurried down the hall, ignoring the staff following them, muttering something they couldn’t hear. “Which room?” Hazel shouted, hearing aids off — again. Marge swung her heavy handbag towards the nearest door, accidentally hitting a member of staff. Rita, slowest with her walker, rolled past the young man crumpled on the floor while Marge burst through the door Hazel opened. “Edna, don’t start without us!” A woman in a glittering gown stared at them, and…
Bubba wasn’t his real name, but he doubted Filch was the thief’s real name anymore than Chief was the boss’. You don’t disclose your identity when people consider your job deceptive. Intent on the monitor, Bubba watched it stutter and go blank, and Chief scrambled to pack their equipment. Filch had two minutes to get out before they’d leave without him. They’d spent weeks prepping for this operation. The risk was high, but bragging rights for having a flying sleigh…
Georgie glanced at Dad in his favorite Christmas sweater stringing colorful lights across the front of the house. This used to be Georgie’s favorite holiday, too, until all the kids laughed at her during lunch today. “Santa’s not real,” Georgie said. Dad arched an eyebrow. “Says who?” “The kids at school said Santa’s for babies.” “Well, I believe in Santa.” Georgie rolled her eyes. “You’re thirty, Dad.” “Sure, but every year I get what I ask for.” “You ask for…