The Christmas of 1933 – By Grace Gannon Rudolph
Flash Fiction / December 21, 2008

I’m seventy-five-years old and live in a nursing home but I remember 1933 and that week before Christmas as though it was yesterday. Men huddled in empty box cars or stood in breadlines, hobo villages sprang up and hungry people knocked at back doors in search of food. Today people jump out of offices with golden parachutes. Back then people just jumped out of office windows. My parents thought the Great Depression was the beginning of the end. My father was a salesman for Finnegan’s Lumber Company. One day Mr. Finnegan called dad into his office and told him the company couldn’t collect from the builder of a house on Crescent Street. “We’ve taken it over,” Mr. Finnegan said. “If you and the misses want to move in until it’s sold, feel free. Just keep the damn place up. I don’t want squatters movin’ in.” We moved in and dad closed off the upstairs, turned the downstairs into bedrooms, and mother hung blankets in the kitchen doorways to, “keep in the heat.” Less than a week after we settled in for good people began beating a path to our back door to ask for bread or soup. There must have…

Christmas Eve – By Andrew W.B. Smith
Micro Fiction / December 21, 2008

I’m in the top bunk because I’m the oldest and a boy. My sister sleeps in the bottom bunk because she’s a girl and a year younger than me. I’ve got a stone hot water bottle and push it to the bottom of the bed to warm my feet on. Mummy says I’ll get chillblains doing that. My sister hugs her rubber hot-water bottle. I turn over and pull the window curtain to one side. I can’t see out the window because of the frost flowers on the glass. I can’t see out the window.” I whisper. “Why not?” my sister whispered back. “Have a look.” I told her. We kneel on the edge of our beds. She scratches at the frost flowers with her fingernails. I can’t do that very well because I bite my nails. So I melt two holes in the frost and pretend they are binoculars. “What can you see?” asked my sister. “It’s snowing.” I answered “Is it!” “No. I’m only kidding.” I like teasing my little sister. “Has he been yet?” she asks me. I look down the bed at my empty stocking. “No.” “Do you think Rudolph will like the carrot we left…