Christmas Nostalgia
Mommy said yes. Tonight, I am sleeping in the living room: I get to wait up for Santa Claus!
Daddy built a big fire to keep me warm during the night, which scared me a little. I’ve done enough naughty things this year… If, on top of it all, Santa catches fire coming down our chimney, it’s going to be coal in my stocking for sure.
Daddy laughed, and told me not to worry, that Santa is incombus… that Santa doesn’t burn.
I’m wearing my prettiest nightgown: the long white one with lace, same as Clara’s in the Nutcracker, and I brushed my hair a hundred times to make it shiny.
On the sofa, Mommy arranged a bed for me. I lie down, and she wraps me up in the big duvet she brought back from Opa’s in Germany. It’s supposed to be filled with feathers, but I pinch, and I don’t feel them. Mommy explains that it’s because they use fuzzy ducks. Mommy’s funny, especially when she tries to explain things in English.
They kiss me, tell me to do try and sleep a little, and turn off the lamps.
It doesn’t matter; it’s not dark. The fire is dancing: red, orange, yellow flames flare around its blue heart. The big windows let in the silver light of the moon. Outside, the whirlwind of fluffy snowflakes brightens up the night like a gazillion Tinkerbells.
But none of that compares to the Tree, full of multi-colored itty-bitty lights. The tinsel glitters, and the mirror ornaments, twinkling with the fire, throw moving glints on the walls. The angel Gabriel, surrounded by his golden aureole, watches over me from the top of the Tree. At its foot, bathed in the glow of the star hanging over the little barn, Baby Jesus is sleeping quietly in his crib.
Snuggled inside the duvet, I curl up in the depths of the sofa. It’s so soft, like floating in whipped cream. The fire sings me a lullaby: snap, psht, pop, tic, crackle, fizz… Daddy put a branch of the Christmas tree in the fire: it smells… Christmassy.
I take my arms out of the cloud of warmth and make sure the gift I wrapped for Santa is still on top of the covers. It’s a box of After-Eights, Daddy’s favorite chocolates. I hope Santa will like them too. Daddy promised he would, and Daddy is always right…
Dzing! A ball has fallen! I open my eyes. They’re all sticky. I rub¾
Oh! There! In front of me. A big man, dressed in red, with an enormous bag hanging from his shoulder is kneeling under the Tree.
Santa?
Santa turns and kisses me on the forehead. I hold out the gift; he gives me another kiss. His beard tickles.
“Sleep little angel, sleep.”
His voice is soft, like Daddy’s.
The sun is hot on my eyelids. I yawn. I stretch. I… It’s Christmas!
I push the duvet away, jump out of the sofa. It wasn’t a dream, Santa was here; there are gifts everywhere! It’s as if a village of brightly wrapped boxes has sprouted under the Tree. There are big ones, little ones, flat ones, bulky ones… It’s a rainbow of silky ribbons, glossy paper and silky bows. Over the cold fireplace my stocking looks like it’s about to explode. And there, leaning against the sofa: a giant teddy bear, wearing a garland like a scarf around his neck, is smiling at me.
I wish I could start unwrapping the presents now, but I can’t. I promised I would wait. This year, I have to share the bounty with my baby sister.
I sit down on the ground beside the teddy bear, and cross my legs under me to keep my feet warm. The air still smells of Christmas, but it’s cold and crisp, tickling my nose. I squeeze the bear to my face, so soft. I guess I can wait a little before waking Mommy and Daddy.
Last night, I got to see Santa Claus!
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Inclement Gods by Gabriele Russo
Book 2: Gods Inc. Series
Fantasy
Fiery Seas Publishing
July 4, 2017
When you live in a world pullulating with gods, can you truly be an atheist? Well, yes…if you know a way to get rid of them. Mysantheos, a fanatic atheist at the head of a powerful lobby/terrorist organization, has created a weapon able to kill gods and his kamikaze army is ready to attack. As the divine bodies pile up, resentment builds at Gods Incorporated and violent factions start pushing for the extermination of the human race, and the CEO/Queen Louhi is running out of ideas to calm them down. Hopefully, her black ops teams are doing better. But will the Nerds and Richard (a down-on-his-luck private eye), saddled as they are with a group of angry gods, manage to find Mysantheos before all hell breaks loose?
Incompetent Gods By Gabriele Russo
Book 1: Gods Inc. Series
Fiery Seas Publishing
December 13, 2016
Fantasy
In a dimension created by the ancient gods, most are now stuck working at Gods Incorporated. CEO Queen Louhi Pohjola, a mortal demigoddess turned vampire (on a diet), holds the planet in the palm of her hand and while she cannot by any stretch of the imagination be called a nice person, there’s worse lurking in her shadow.
Goblin, a bitter hybrid with childhood issues and shape-shifting abilities, has a grudge against the world. First on his to-do list is getting rid of the Queen and take her place by forcing the titan Ba’al to devour her.
As her friends and allies fall one-by-one into Goblin’s traps, the Queen’s fate seems inevitable. With no one left to fight, will Ba’al’s friends, a bunch of over-the-hill incompetent gods, be enough to stop Goblin from turning the world into hell?
About the Author:
Gabriele Russo, AKA Lucie-Gabrielle Jolicoeur-Rousseau, was born in Quebec City amidst a family of book lovers – her father had dreamed of being a writer and both of her brothers are published authors.
Since she earned her Bachelor’s in History, it was no surprise (except to her) that she ended up working in restaurants, eventually owning two, which almost drove her mad. She sold them and was nursed back to pseudo-sanity by Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett.
That’s when she answered the family calling and decided to write. Armed with her ideas for the Gods Inc. series she went back to the University and got her Master’s in Creative Writing.
She now lives with her husband in Culpeper, Virginia, where she divides her time between painting, ripping apart and reconstructing her recently bought historical home, playing tennis and, of course, writing more books.
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