Photo Credit: A Mixed Bag 2004

He didn’t have one of those gross stick-on beards, and he even spoke Spanish to the little girl three kids up. That could only mean one thing. He just might be the “real” Santa.

Hannah would know for sure soon. The real Santa would know her name, without her telling it, of course.

When Hannah’s turn came, Santa bellowed,. “Ho ho ho! Aren’t you a pretty girl. What’s your name?”

Hannah scowled. Just as she had suspected. An imposter! She stood her ground. She wasn’t about to share her secret wish with a fake Santa!

But Santa was a wise old elf. He had faced this test before. So intent was Hannah’s stare down that she hardly noticed his split second glance toward her Mom who mouthed, “Hannah,” from behind.

With a twinkle in his eye, tilting his head, Santa finally said, “Hmmmm…I believe you are Hannah. Am I right?”

Delighted, Hannah hopped onto Santa’s lap and whispered her secret wish in his ear. It would most certainly come true. Santa’s wink and nod at Hannah’s mom assured it.

kat ~ 22 December 2015
(182 Words)

This story is in response to Sunday Photo Fiction’s Weekly Challenge. To read more stories or enter your own based on the photo prompt above, click HERE.

Photo Source: Infanteenie Beenie on Etsy

It had been a long day of waiting. Crumpled snack wrappers and empty soda cans cluttered the end tables already stacked with out-of-date magazines. Eventually everyone from both sides of our immediate families had gathered to welcome my first grandchild. There was another family waiting too, but we were a formidable crowd, laying claim to most of the available seating. 

Finally word came that she was here! The excitement was palpable. When the next pink bundle was presented, we rushed the window to see her. 

But something felt wrong. Not one of us felt warm and fuzzy about this baby. 

“Who do you think she looks like?” 

“I’m not sure. Her eyes look like…never mind. I thought maybe Uncle George, but he was an honorary uncle, dad’s best friend.”

“Her mouth sort of looks like…no…not really…hmmm…”

“She looks kinda weird if you ask me. Not like any of us.”

“Her face is too long. Who’s nose is that?”

I tapped on the glass to get the attention of the attending nurse, “The Jones’ baby? Is this the Jones’ baby?” 

She nodded “yes”.

Clearly, she couldn’t hear me. I persisted, spelling out, “J.O.N.E.S? Mother’s name Terry? Dad’s name, Chris?”

The nurse paused. Finally comprehending, she mouthed, “No.”

Our entire entourage sighed loudly in relief. A few “thank god’s” we’re muttered. As we scattered back to our seats, I noticed the other family patiently waiting in the corner. 

Smiling sheepishly I said, “I think this baby might be yours.”

kat ~ 19 December 2015

(259 Words)

A story in response to Ronovan Writes Friday Fiction Challenge. This week’s prompt was to write about a family gathering. If you’d like to read other stories or write your own, click HERE.