Snippet from Christmas Anthology

I recently compiled three of my Christmas-themed short stories into an anthology called The Granting Of Wishes. Thank you to everyone who signed up and got their free PDF-copy. I hope you enjoyed the three short stories!

I’ve been told by readers (not just my mom! ;-)) that they were moved to tears by these stories. So for those of you who weren’t sure whether you wanted to get the anthology or not, here’s a snippet to give you some idea of what you’d be reading:

A Wish Named Snow – Snippet

Cory hastens from his mother’s bedroom to the kitchen, trying hard not to spill the water in the bowl he is holding. He doesn’t have time to sop up any puddles. His mother is feverish again and he needs fresh water to cool her face.

He dumps the water in the kitchen sink and rinses out the cloth. He looks outside the window in front of him, at the garden. In spring, the flowers bloomed beautifully and the lawn was as green as a golf-course. But now, in the heat of summer, the color has gone out of grass and leaves and petals. Everything is yellow and brown and dead.

Usually, his mother would never let this happen. Last year, the garden was a riot of color all summer long, well tended, watered every morning and evening to withstand the South African summer heat. Cory would ‘help’ her, by digging through the earth with his little red shovel and redistributing it in his yellow bucket. This year, mom hasn’t stepped foot in the garden and Cory hasn’t touched his shovel or bucket in two months. He hasn’t even thought about them, nor about the set of Legos his father gave him four months ago for being such a good sport about dad never being home anymore.

The way it looks, mom won’t be out of bed this Christmas. She won’t bake cookies, won’t make eggnog, won’t hang the stockings up on the banister for Santa to fill on Christmas Eve. At least dad managed to buy a Christmas tree as promised. He just hasn’t had time to put it up yet. It’s still lying in the garage, all packed in the net and far too heavy for Cory to drag inside and stand up by himself.

Christmas Eve is tomorrow.

Last year, when Cory was so homesick after the recent relocation, at least they had a proper Christmas, like they did at home in Manchester. The only thing that wasn’t like home was the heat and the missing snow.

This year he would be happy to have just one christmassy thing. But the way things are going, he might as well wish for snow. Snow during the South African Christmas seems more realistic right now than a decorated Christmas tree, cookies, eggnog and stockings.

It’s a wish, fleeting but incredibly strong: Snow. Cory wants snow this Christmas. Something, anything, to remind him of the good times, before dad’s work relocation, before mom’s sickness. Snow seems like the least Santa could do, if he isn’t able to heal his mom or make his dad not have to work so much to earn the money for the expensive doctors. Snow is just icy water. Can’t be too hard, right?

Cory fills the pail with fresh, cool water and carries it back to his mother’s room. By the time he turns his back on the window, he has forgotten his fervent wish.

******

The wish named Snow races through time and space. It is strong and sure, leaving other wishes far behind in its race to reach its destination in time.

No wish ever disappears once set free, though they can get lost or be forgotten if they are vague and weak. Snow is neither vague nor weak. Snow is as bright and brilliant as its namesake. Snow will never get lost.

[…]

But will Snow be granted to Cory?

Find out in this Christmas Anthology which includes three short stories that all (try to) answer the question:

Can impossible wishes be granted?