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  • Christmas All My Life

    Dear Santa,

    My name is Jessica and I am eleven years old. I am writing to you to tell you what I want for Christmas.

    I don’t want toys. Mommy and Daddy buy me lots of toys. I don’t want clothes. Gramma always gets me clothes. I don’t want books. We go to the library once a week, and I am scared if I have too many books, Mommy won’t drop me off at the library anymore. I like the librarians. They are nice.

    All I want for Christmas is a friend. I don’t have anyone to talk to. I get lonely a lot.

    Hope you have a merry Christmas.

    Love,

    Jessica

    __

    Dear Jessica,

    I don’t normally write back to Christmas list letters, but you are a very special girl. I wanted to make sure you got your Christmas wish, so as my gift to you, I will be your pen pal. Please write to me whenever you are feeling lonely.

    Love,

    Santa (more…)

  • Help My Elf

    Please, Please, Please Help My Elf

    This project is fully-funded.

    Amount requested: $100

    Amount raised: $1,225.18

    Backers: 1

    Hello and welcome to my Crowdfunder. My name is Bethany and I am asking for between a hundred and two hundred dollars to help my elf.

    Every year in December my elf, Mr. Sparkles, comes to my house all the way from the North Pole. Mom says that he comes to tell on me to Santa if I’m naughty, but Mr. Sparkles is a naughty elf, himself. He poops chocolate kisses on our mantle piece every year and one time I found him hanging from our ceiling fan all wrapped up in Christmas ribbon! Ha! I’ve tried to tell him that he needs to be nicer, but Mom yells at me if I talk to Mr. Sparkles too much. She says that I don’t have time to play silly games.

    This year, Mr. Sparkles didn’t show up at my house. Mom told me that he probably got into trouble at the North Pole and can’t get here this year. She also told me that I shouldn’t worry about it. And she told me that worrying about elves is silly. And she told me that he’s probably just lost in a box somewhere upstairs, but I don’t think that one is possible. He got stuck in a jar one year, but I’ve never seen Mr. Sparkles in a box, ever. And she told me that if I wanted my damn elf so bad I should just go find him. So I’m going to.

    I read a book once on polar explorers and I know that it requires a lot of funding, which Mom says means money. I already have the sled. My dog Scotty will come with me. I have a backpack and a good coat and I can make my own sandwiches to pack as long as they’re peanut butter or cheese. I just need the funding for my journey.

    Risks: It will be very cold and I might miss my toys and friends.

    Deadline: December 21 so I have time to get to the North Pole and back before Christmas so I can open my presents on Christmas morning.

    One comment:

    Nikolas

    Dearest Bethany. Mister Sparkles misses you. Head north. Watch for the reindeer. They’re on their way for you. Merry Christmas.

  • (22) Missed Calls

    John 12/13/2018 22:34:07 – Hey, honey. Do you need me to pick up anything else while I’m at the store?

    Lira 12/13/2018 22:37:24 – Milk, tylenol, salt (for the steps). <3

    John 12/13/2018 23:02:18 – On my way home. See you in a few.

    Lira 12/13/2018 23:03:33 – Okay. Drive safe. (more…)

  • A Sticky Exchange

    Hot pink post-it, found on fridge, 7am: Stop drinking my blood

    Light blue post-it, found on fridge, 9pm: Gross, I would never!

    Hot pink post-it, found on fridge, 10pm: I know it was you

    Light blue post-it, found on fridge, 11pm: I don’t even drink blood

    Hot pink post-it, found on bedroom door, 2am: Did you invite another one in? We talked about this!!

    Light blue post-it, found on bedroom door, just before dawn: I’m not stupid. Maybe you invited them in.

    Slightly singed hot pink post-it, found on bedroom door, 6:45am: You know I can’t do that (more…)

  • December Stories at the Confabulator Cafe

    This year is drawing to a close, and we’re celebrating our third full year of fiction here at the Confabulator Cafe. Thank you so much for joining us each month, reader. Your support means a great deal.

    We already have our prompts for next year, which you can get a sneak peek for by visiting the Fiction Archive page. Make note of those months you’d really like to read so you’re sure to come check us out.

    For this month, the last month of the year, we tasked the Confabulators to write letters. Tis the season, after all! The only requirement for this month’s prompt was that the story had to be told in epistolary format (the entirety of the story told in correspondence back and forth). We hope you’ll enjoy this slightly different format (although we have had a brave Confabulator do it once before!).

    Here is the schedule for December:

    Friday, December 7: “A Sticky Exchange” by Eliza Jaquays
    Friday, December 14: “(22) Missed Calls” by Kita Haliwell
    Friday, December 21: “Help My Elf” by Dianne Williams
    Friday, December 28: “Christmas All My Life” by Sara Lundberg

  • Matter of Time

    Jacob rummaged in between the couch cushions so loudly that Jennifer finally paused the TV and harrumphed.

    “What are you even doing, Jake?”

    “My pretzel fell down in there.”

    “So? Get another one.”

    “I don’t want another one. I want that one.” He rummaged some more. “I don’t get it. It should be right here.”

    Jen sighed, stood up, and pulled the couch cushion off the couch.

    The twins stood staring at the under-the-couch-cushion for a moment before exchanging a glance.

    “Is that…?” Jen started.

    “Hey look! It’s the remote Mom said I lost! It was right here the whole time!” Jake grabbed the remote and held it aloft in triumph, apparently forgetting the lost pretzel.

    “It can’t be. We tore the couch apart looking for that thing.” Jen crossed her arms. “We didn’t get to watch TV for a week until the new remote came. There’s no way it was here the whole time.”

    Jake shrugged, tossed the remote on the coffee table, then settled back down with his bowl of pretzels.

    But Jen couldn’t settle. They’d lost that remote years ago. Two? Three? It was weird. How had it suddenly reappeared?

    She picked up the found remote and put it in a drawer in her room. (more…)

  • Spelunking

    On days where a field trip is required I always find a new dress in my closet.

    Treasure will be found if you only get off your couch and dig for it beneath the cushions. 5 17 18 24 93

    It was an oddly specific fortune cookie. But when one of the kids in my classroom gets an oddly specific fortune with their chow mein, it can only mean that it’s field trip day. The dress covered in springs and couch pillows makes sense now.

    “Come on, kids! Everyone aboard the bus!”

    No one ever asked about the bus. Not the school board. Not the administration. Not the other bus drivers.

    “Not another field trip.”
    “I thought we were going to learn long division this week.”
    “Not again, Mrs. Frizzle,” the children whined.

    “Hup to, hup to. Learning requires sacrifices from time to time,” I said, clapping my hands together.

    The kids dutifully filed out to the bus and took their seats. The bus winked a headlight on me as I boarded behind them. I dropped into the driver’s seat and starting cranking things like I had any idea what I was doing.

    The bus knew the way, though. The bus always knew the way. (more…)

  • Living Room Moon

    “Why did you leave the moon rock where the baby could get it?”

    (more…)

  • November Stories at the Confabulator Cafe

    In my experience, couch cushions are greedy things that pickpocket us while we’re sitting on them. Coins, socks, remote controls, food crumbs all seem to end up deep within the cracks of comfortable (or in some cases, not-so-comfortable) couches. Sometimes, though, the couch gives things back.

    Our prompt for this month is “We found the lost ___ in the couch cushions.” Let’s see what the Confabulators found.

    We’ll have stories every Thursday except for Thanksgiving. Couches don’t return things on holidays.

    Here’s the November schedule:

    Thursday, November 8: “Living Room Moon” by Emily Mosher
    Thursday, November 15: “Spelunking” by Dianne Williams
    Thursday, November 29: “A Matter of Time” by Sara Lundberg

  • Apple of Her Mother’s Eye

    “Mom! We’re out of apples,” Alexa yelled, head stuck deep in the refrigerator. She couldn’t keep the panic from her voice.

    “Well, take a pear instead!”

    Alexa rummaged through the fruit drawer again, hoping maybe one rolled behind something else.

    “Alexa Dawn, don’t stand there with the refrigerator door open.”

    Mom. I need an apple.”

    “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t realize we were out. I’ll grab some when I go to the grocery store this weekend.”

    “I need one for my lunch today.”

    Alexa’s mom sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you. We have to leave for school in twenty minutes. I don’t have time to get you an apple right now.”

    “But an apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Alexa grimaced at her mom’s nonplussed look.

    “That’s just an expression, Alexa. I’m sure you’ll survive a day or two without an apple in your lunch.”

    Easy for her mom to say. She didn’t have to deal with The Doctor at school. There would be a heavy price to pay if she didn’t give the bully an apple at lunch time. She could just hear the eighth grade girl taunting her. “An apple a day keeps the doctor away, little sevvie.” She usually made her watch her take every bite, but now and then she’d take one bite, then throw the rest away. (more…)