Oh, my pretty little elfin faced girl
In green
woolly tights and pixie shoes
I’ve
admired you from a distance
Where your
smile melts away my blues
I watched
you bloom in the spring
And bask in
the warm summer glow
Then
dressed in russet colours of autumn
And all the
year I’ve felt my love grow
Now winter
is here, and Christmas is near
Oh, how I
long to kiss your sweet lips so
Oh, my
pretty little elfin faced girl
I pray I
meet you beneath the mistletoe
In
the small but thriving English county of Downshire people go about the tasks of
their everyday existence in ways that range from the mundane to the
extraordinary as their forebears had done for centuries before, in the varied
and diverse landscape, from the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock,
the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the
rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, to the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and the
short but beautiful coastline to the east.
But
it’s in the old market town of Abbeyvale where the participants of this
particular tale live their lives, and the tale began as Christmas fast
approached.
Morella Garcia sat alone drinking black coffee in
Labuschagne’s Coffee House, just killing some time, and she noticed her instantly
as she entered, Yolanda Torres, and she was powerless to resist the movement of
her eyes, as like magnets they were drawn towards the striking young woman and
her stunning beauty.
Her eyes
were glued on Yolanda’s form as she removed her coat. At first her hair
appeared black as a raven's wing as it caressed the dark caramel skin of her
shoulders, but with the sun shining through the fine strands they betrayed its
true brunette nature.
But out of
the sun her hairs dark lustre framed the simple beauty of her face, which
Morella studied as she took another sip.
Firstly her full moist lips which broadened into a smile, the delicate curve of
her small nose and the hypnotic depth of her dark brown eyes which looked back
at her and held her gaze, and as if reading Morella’s thoughts they burned
through her and touched her soul.
Yolanda was distracted momentarily so her eyes wandered the soft brown
nakedness of her neck and shoulders until reaching her bountiful breasts, where
white lace fringed their fullness, she met her eyes again and her smile
broadened and her cheeks flushed as if she could feel the tingling of her
loins.
Yolanda
turned away and she continued her lustful journey, the cloth of her trousers
fitted her firm buttocks like a second skin hugging her contours as Morella
longed to do.
As she sat
down at an adjacent table and her gaze once more returned to the plumpness of
her fine young breasts as they rearranged themselves within their lacy
confines.
And then
their eyes met again, and she smiled, knowing her thoughts, and reveling in
them.
The
blushing Spanish maiden had to look away and fumbled in her bag while she
regained her composure as the embers’ glowed within her of what could become an
unquenchable fire.
She took
out a cigarette in her slender fingers and Morella noticed her hand tremble for
a moment before placing it between her luscious lips and she envied its
intimacy with her mouth.
Morella
reached across and the void between their tables and offered her a light.
Yolanda
smiled as she lit it and then joined her where she bought her coffee and they
talked and laughed, then drank more coffee and talked and laughed some more.
Her eyes
still took every opportunity to peruse her fine young body as she was held
captive by her Spanish eyes, but as she looked upon her sweet face, they were
only biding their time until the moment when Yolanda would use her to quell the
fire uncontrollably burning inside her and Morella would look into her Spanish
eyes as her pretty face contorted in orgasmic bliss.
It was
early when the children woke up
With their
squeals of joy and delight
They hadn’t
woken me though
I’d been
awake half the night
Christmas
held no joy for me this year
I was not
looking forward to the day
And I
always loved Christmas
This year I
didn’t want to play
It was the
first Christmas since I lost Harry
And each
moment was a fresh agony
Everything
we used to do together
Now had to
be done by me
When you
are the perfect partnership
It’s so
hard when you lose one of the team
He was the
cream cheese on my bagel,
I was the
coffee to his cream
Its six
months since he was taken from me
But the
wound has barely healed
It takes
just the slightest remembrance
And a fresh
scar is then revealed
The
children have all adjusted well
I’m so
proud of the way they’ve coped
They’ve
gotten on with their lives
And not sat
around and moped
I’ve lain
awake most of the night
Reliving
Christmases gone by
I laughed
at all the happy memories
And then
the laughter turned to cries
It was
going to be a difficult day to bear
And I would
be glad when it was done
But I
didn’t want to be a Grinch
And pour
water on the children’s fun
Having
Christmas without Harry
Was like
having an undecorated tree
He was my
best friend and soul mate
He was just
everything to me
So for the
kid’s sake I had to grin and bear it
Put on a
brave face, smiled through the pain
I thought
it would never end but end it did
And it
won’t be that hard again
In the
small but thriving English county of Downshire people go about the tasks of
their everyday existence in ways that range from the mundane to the
extraordinary as their forebears had done for centuries before, in the varied
and diverse landscape, from the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock,
the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the
rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, to the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and the
short but beautiful coastline to the east.
But it’s in
the old market town of Abbeyvale where the participants of this particular tale
live their lives, and the tale began as Christmas fast approached.
Twenty-seven-year-old
Violetta Garcia was a tiny woman, petite and slim, of Spanish descent who
looked like a breath of wind would blow her away but looks could be very
deceptive as she was very strong and very grounded.
However,
until three weeks earlier she had also been very lonely.
All her
siblings were married, apart from younger sister Morella, so were most of her cousins,
and the ones that weren’t were at least in relationships.
Literally
everyone else she knew, family, friends and even workmates, had a family, a
partner and children and she wanted that, she had always wanted that, and at St Bernadette’s Church one Sunday morning, or more
precisely on the steps outside it she took the first tentative step towards
fulfilling her dreams when she agreed to a date with one of her sister
Morella’s cast offs.
Three weeks
later they were inseparable, and after spending Christmas together were going
to drive up to Tipton in the North of the county to see in the New Year with
his family.
It would be
a longish journey so they thought they could share the driving, she just had to
have him added to her insurance, it was about to renew anyway.
Violetta
was sitting in her flat, which was heavily dressed for Christmas, when she
looked up the number and dialed.
“Abbottsford
Assurance, you’re speaking to Kumar how can I help?”
“Yes hi, my
name is Violetta Garcia and I would like to renew my car insurance and add
another named driver to my policy”
“That’s no
problem at all” Kumar responded “I just need to confirm some details”
After
confirming all her personal information and vehicle registration Kumar asked
“And who do
you wish to add to the policy?”
“My
partner” she replied proudly “his name is “HaySoos” Martinez”
“How do you
spell his first name?”
“J.E.S.U.S”
Violetta replied and was outraged at his response
“You don’t
need to add him as a named driver, just because the Lord is always with you”
Kumar blurted and then laughed like a drain.
“Unbelievable
behaviour” she snapped “You can now cancel my renewal, I’m changing to Childean
Comprehensive, merry Christmas”
Merriment abounds
And music
fills the air
And in the
cosy room
I’d hoped
to see you there
Friends and
loved ones
Surround me, old and new
I wished that one of them
Might have
been you
Outside its
cold
On this Christmas Eve
When the party's over
I won’t
want to leave
But I will
head home
Trudging
through the snow
And in my
loneliness
I’ll wonder how I let you go
In the
small but thriving English county of Downshire people go about the tasks of
their everyday existence in ways that range from the mundane to the
extraordinary as their forebears had done for centuries before, in the varied
and diverse landscape, from the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock,
the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the
rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, to the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and the
short but beautiful coastline to the east.
But it’s in
the old market town of Abbeyvale where the participants of this particular tale
live their lives, and the tale began as December started, and the town was dressed
for Christmas.
Donna
Garcia was just descending the steps after leaving St Bernadette’s Church, and
her dark eyes, sultry and steamy flashed him a side
ward’s glance from beneath the black lace of her Mantilla and in return he
gave her a more appraising look altogether, focusing on the curvaceous figure
beneath her conservative Sunday dress.
Her eyes flashed up again, a lingering languid glance which spoke volumes of
her being very much a woman and not the putative girl her parents would have
her be still.
She was the center of his admiration, and he was hers as they saw recognition
in each other’s eyes, no words were spoken everything was intuit and with
amative study and libidinous perusal, the girl was his object of pulchritude
and he was her beloved swain.
All at once
they had to separate and the spell was broken until their reunion, for they
were not strangers first met on those Church steps.
However,
the last time he had looked into the eyes of the young woman in the black lace
Mantilla she was wearing black lace of a very different kind.
Did you fall from heaven?
With the
winter snow
You must be
an Angel
You have
that special glow
You must
have come from heaven
An Angel
from above.
Sent to me
this Christmas
Sent to
bring me love
Come sit
beside me
In the
glowing candlelight
I never
knew my love
Could ever
burn so bright
From this
first moment
As we drink
a glass of wine
Your sweet
angelic nature
Tells me
you are divine
Wrapped in
an Angels form
As our
Christmas starts
You give me
the gift of love
And I give
to you my heart
