It's after Thanksgiving--no shame, its Christmas time. Hello beautiful people! I come to you with a challenge for both myself and to anyone else who wants to play. I'm pretty sure it qualifies as a writing prompt, so I'm posting it here! Every year, after Thanksgiving, I've made it a little personal hobby to write a Christmas story to the rhyme scheme of "'twas the night before Christmas" -- or if you prefer, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" since they're both pretty much the same. Basically the challenge is to write an entire short story that follows that rhyming pattern. The whole thing has to rhyme, right down to the last line. It's hilariously fun and you can get really creative with it, and every year I've managed to make the story just a little bit longer. The ones I write are usually personal 'feel good' stories, so I don't ever let anyone else see them. But I thought this year it would be fun to open it up and share whatever I end up writing, and also to see if anyone else wants to write one, too! It can be any kind of story you want! The only rules are that 1) it has to start with " 'twas the night before Christmas", and 2) it has to follow that story's rhyme pattern. I'll post an example below, and otherwise I'll really look forward to others maybe giving this a shot! Example: 'twas the Night before Christmas, bright fires aglow. The hanging of flags had replaced mistletoe. The cannons were ready, city walls prepared, no soldier was timid or frightened or scared. Each knight grabbed his sword and each archer a bow, each peasant a club in the soft falling snow. They gathered their armor, their horses and spears, and marched to the gates with deep cries and loud cheers. Tonight was not quiet or peaceful, you see, tonight was the night they would die or stay free.
I, however, hire a team of hitmen to go nationwide in search of people who do 'T was the night before Christmas copies, and parodies. Fancy that!
T'was 29 nights before the night before Christmas (at time of going to press) When all through my house Denegroth's hitmen were looking for me, but could only find my spouse For I had gone, shacked up in the Himalayas somewhere To bang out pastiche, after homage, after copy, and parody—with abandoned care...
'Twas the night before Christmas, and a baby was crying. Father was dead, and mother was dying. A child clawed at the bricks and the mortar, Afraid of the noise, the blood and the slaughter. The dust as it settled, coated everything white, A foul choking shroud for this special night. The baby fell silent, the child kept on digging, Another explosion left its poor ears ringing. That, and the hunger it had felt for weeks, Made tears carve rivers over innocent cheeks. Outside, the crackling of buildings afire, Mocked the sound of a warm Yuletide fire. With torn nails and fingers bleeding, For this child in a war zone, no happy ending.
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the eve, Not a creature was stirring except grandson, Steve. Eagerly, effectively, silently setting his pace, He ran room to room, in search of that secret place - Where presents were hid of great value and small, Yet to no avail 'cause sis found them first, that's all!
"T'was the night before Christmas, and then there was a clatter, So checking to see what was the matter, Finding Santa upon the floor, sack of gifts strewn about, Should have gotten those wrinkles in the carpet stretched out."
'Twas the night before christmas, it was supposed to be peaceful, And was as grandma sat telling stories fictious, and round her sat children gobbling up the cake very tasteful. But the peace was pierced by the wails of the youngest child, As the innocent nutcracker was deemed exiled. And Grandma couldn't help but smile at the child's compassion, After all she had told the story in such an indulging fashion. Alright, hope it wasn't too bad. *Nervous laughing*
