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 |   Contains my entries for all things endurance on WDC |
Home to my entries for endurance challenges.  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **
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What if we have the 12 Months of Christmas instead of the 12 Days of Christmas? What would each month represent. You may present this in a short story, poem, or article form. Original  In the first month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: A tub of relaxing tea In the second month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea In the third month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 3 hot baths 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea In the fourth month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 4 self-help books 3 hot baths 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea In the fifth month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 5 support groups 4 self-help books 3 hot baths 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea In the sixth month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 6 phones a-ringing 5 support groups 4 self-help books 3 hot baths 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea In the seventh month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 7 dreams a-screaming 6 phones a-ringing 5 support groups 4 self-help books 3 hot baths 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea In the eighth month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 8 shots a-stinging 7 dreams a-screaming 6 phones a-ringing 5 support groups 4 self-help books 3 hot baths 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea In the ninth month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 9 friends crying 8 shots a-stinging 7 dreams a-screaming 6 phones a-ringing 5 support groups 4 self-help books 3 hot baths 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea In the tenth month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 10 days a-passing 9 friends crying 8 shots a-stinging 7 dreams a-screaming 6 phones a-ringing 5 support groups 4 self-help books 3 hot baths 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea In the eleventh month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 11 sessions shocking 10 days a-passing 9 friends crying 8 shots a-stinging 7 dreams a-screaming 6 phones a-ringing 5 support groups 4 self-help books 3 hot baths 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea In the twelfth month of Christmas my therapist sent to me: 12 doctors quitting 11 sessions shocking 10 days a-passing 9 friends crying 8 shots a-stinging 7 dreams a-screaming 6 phones a-ringing 5 support groups 4 self-help books 3 hot baths 2 Xanax pills and a tub of relaxing tea |
| Write a short story or poem about Santa Claus. BUT there is a catch. You cannot use the following words: Santa, beard, white, red, or sleigh. The jolly giant sits upon his throne, Christmas tree by his side, he calls up the next eager child waiting excitedly to provide his deserving list of all the latest and greatest high tech gadgets. Though his velvet suit is itching, he spares a beaming smile to the families who have gathered in the mall for a cheerful photo with the holiday icon or just to quiet their ecstatic children. His loyal elves wait patiently at his Beck and call, filling their roles perfectly, as Timmy and Krissy share their wishes for a perfect scene between their parents, pulling at even the dullest heart strings. At four on the dot, he stands, motioning for the attention of the remaining children whose eyes widen with sadness at a lost chance with their hero, but Matt’s shift is starting and this worker has a home. 20 lines |
| Gordo arrived in the North Pole on a cold July night. Mr. and Mrs. Clause rushed him inside while Mrs. Clause poured him a cup of hot cocoa. “What seems to be the trouble, son?” Mr. Clause asked once they were all settled at the kitchen table. “I’ve been banished from that mainland,” Gordo admitted. “I went to trial and I’ve been sentence to elf duty for twenty-five to life. But I didn’t do it. I swear! I’ve been wrongly convicted!” “It’s not so bad.” Mrs. Clause ignored his pleas, pulling at the ribbon in her hair. “Why don’t you take him down to the elf house, Nick? I’m sure he could use some rest.” The next morning, Gordo was introduced to the fellow elves at the breakfast table. “This is Gordo from the South. He’s going to be staying with us for a while, so let’s show him our best Christmas spirit welcome. You’ve come at just the right time, Gordo. We need a lot of help on tinsel duty for the next six months.” Tinsel duty meant endless hours making long strands of the stuff for families to decorate their Christmas trees and houses. He worked with a fellow convict elf named, Ernie. Ernie had been doing hard time since the age of five and he was a rough-looking guy. “Yo, new guy! You got any Fly?” Ernie asked as they worked together on the third day. “Fly?” “Yeah, you know, the stuff that makes you soar,” Ernie replied, moving his hand to toward the ceiling, his cagey eyes shifting back and forth. Gordo couldn’t believe his ears. He was stuck forever with these North Pole thugs! What could he do? That’s when it hit him. He had heard Santa talking about a drug problem in his warehouse. If Gordo could find the source of the problem, maybe they would finally see that he was a good guy. He could be vindicated! He spent the next two months keeping an eye and ear out for the other elves. He would pretend to be feeding the reindeer while he was actually just eavesdropping on conversations. He would hide behind the Christmas tree in the dining hall, playing private eye. Ernie led him to a guy named Rick, who led him to two brothers named Max and Dallas. But they gave him the runaround and he ended up talking to an elf named Rocko. Rocko was the real deal, ultimate gangster of the North Pole. The kind of elf you wouldn’t even want to be in the same room with, if you could avoid it. But Gordo braved his fears and went up to him one day. “Are you Rocko?” he asked, even though he knew it was. “What’s it to you?” Rocko asked, cinnamon stick hanging between his lips. “I’ve heard you’ve got the source on Fly?” Rocko stood up quickly, red in the face. “Who’s asking?” “Well, I’ve been running around here for months trying to find out. No one will tell me anything, but Ernie mentioned tha-“ “Ernie said it was my stuff? Man, what a fool I am! He’s the one bringing it in here, all I did was offer protection in exchange for a small cut of the profit." Gordo was shocked by the response. The right guy had been working alongside him the whole time. He had to get to Santa before someone else did. They knew their side project was crashing. He found Mr. and Mrs. Clause drinking green tea in the kitchen. He spilled his guts to them and fell at their mercy. “My dear boy! I knew you could do it! Gordo stood up, suspicion washing over his face. “Wait, you knew I could do what?" Santa stood up, laughing from deep in his belly. “This isn't the first time they sent an innocent to solve crime issues around here. Those lazy cops and their sugar cookies! We knew you were innocent from the first night we met you.” Gordo waited impatiently, pacing throughout the living room while Mr. and Mrs. Clause contacted authorities. Ernie was arrested, along with Rocko and their smugglers. Gordo’s innocence was revealed in a press release and the following week, he was on a plane heading home. He would spend the holidays with his family after all, free at last. 725 Words |
| Poem based off of this prompt and photo: Please delight us with a short story or poem about why this Christmas fairy is visiting in July In an iris field she reaches for the thrill of tomorrow. Her lackey bows against the cracked skyline’s smile. The sleeves of satin highlight her animated fixed eyes. Spirited light as day breaks her plans to celebrate. Ivory skin of melted love for the heat of summer’s kiss. She paints the picture of holiday’s ordinary state. Time plays no factor when the vitality of life flickers. Revel when it feels right in any way she pleases. 16 lines |
| Jake and Timmy watched the magical jar with excited eyes. It had been sitting up there all week, taunting them. Now that Mom and Dad were out of the house for the night, the temptation was growing stronger and stronger. “You know,” Timmy started. “Maybe we could open one corner of the lid; just to let some of the spirit out.” Jake looked at his twin with mock shock, their faces reflecting each other’s. “Why, Timmy!” he gasped dramatically. “Are you suggesting that we let the Christmas spirit out before Mom and Dad get home?” The boys busted up laughing at their melodramatic display. They really should be on a stage somewhere with spotlights in their eyes. “All they said was to not let the Christmas spirit out until they got back from dinner. That doesn’t mean we can’t let a little bit out though,” Timmy suggested, more earnestly this time. Each month they waited patiently for the day their parents announced that it was finally time to let the Christmas spirit out. They had started capturing it every Christmas when the boys were eight and in the three years since, the kids had never disobeyed their parents’ wishes on the matter. “I don’t know. I don’t want to get in trouble,” Jake hedged, never the one to do something wrong. “Well, fine then! I’ll just go open it myself!” Timmy declared, grabbing a kitchen chair and dragging it over to the china cabinet where the jar rested on the top shelf. He pulled it down, feeling the smooth glass in his hands. It looked like there was some sort of blue smoke swirling inside. Jake sat on the edge of the kitchen table, watching his brother in awe. He had never done anything so dangerous in his life and he wanted in on the action. “Here, Timmy. Let me open it.” Timmy looked at his brother with a wicked smile and shook his head, handing it over. “Wow, what a rebel!” “Just the corner though,” Jake said, gripping it with his fingernails. He carefully lifted the edge until the smoke started escaping. Suddenly, the lid came off completely and flew across the room, clanging down on the hardwood floor. “Not the whole thing!” Timmy screamed, running to retrieve the lid. But the room had filled with so much blue smoke, he couldn’t see anymore as it stung his eyes. It never did this when Mom and Dad opened it. With the worst timing possible, the boys heard the garage door opening. “Run!” Timmy shouted, hightailing it past Jake and up the stairs to their bedroom. Jake tripped through the smoke, trying to reach his brother, but a hand came down hard on his shoulder. “What’s going on here, Jake?” A familiar voice came through the haze, sounding puzzled. Jake turned to see his father towering over him. The smoke had dissipated and the only remaining evidence of the scene was an overturned chair that Timmy knocked down while escaping. “Are you boys fighting again?” His mom looked around the room before picking the chair up. That’s when she saw it, the Christmas spirit lid lying there on the kitchen floor. She picked it up with a hand on her hip, looking disappointed. Her husband saw what was in her hand and took it away from her, turning it over and shaking his head. He called Timmy down so they could sit around the table and have a discussion. “I swear; I only tried to lift the corner. The lid just flew off and that’s when the smoke came out!” Jake exclaimed. “It filled up the whole room and we couldn’t even breathe.” “Wait, what smoke?” “There was a blue smoke in the jar. It was the spirit of Christmas and he let it out!” Timmy accused. Their parents shook their heads and began laughing. Finally their mother was able to say, “You know that wasn’t the real Christmas spirit jar, right? You think we would just leave it out for you two to get into?” The boys looked shocked at their parents’ confession, feeling betrayed somehow even though they were the ones who broke the rules. “But, if that wasn’t the Christmas spirit jar…” “It was just an empty jar, Jake.” Their father picked it up to show them. “There was never any Christmas spirit. It must have been all in your head.” That night, the boys sat in their beds in silence, not knowing what to say to one another. They each knew what they had seen, but how could it be? Jake had finally almost fallen asleep when he heard Timmy say, “You know, maybe the Christmas spirit is inside each of us and we can let it out whenever we want.” 795 Words |
| This is a parody of the song White Christmas . I’m dreaming of a nice Christmas, One with no single chance of snow. With the sunlight shining and rainbows lining To make photos in the sky. I’m dreaming of a nice Christmas With every day of no black ice May your days of sunshine suffice And may all your Christmases be nice I’m dreaming of a nice Christmas With every day my favorite vice May your days be quick to entice And may all your Christmases be nice 13 lines |
| Mom and Dad, You’ll never believe what we did at camp this morning. We were all woken up by the counselors at four o’clock in the morning and wrangled into the mess hall. Most of us were only wearing our pajamas and I didn’t even have time to put my glasses on. I was holding onto Lisa’s arm and tripping through the wet grass. I thought there was a tornado or something because of the storms we had last night. Did it storm at home, too? When we got to the dining hall, it had all been cleared out and there was a gigantic Christmas tree in the middle of the room. Yes, a Christmas tree, Christmas tree! In the middle of July! Can you believe that? There was a huge star on top and snowflake ornaments with our pictures on them. There were Christmas lights around the whole place and it looked like the Christmas dance I went to last year with Roy Lowry. Remember him? The counselors turned on the music, which was set up at the front of the room. It was “Jingle Bell Rock” and we couldn’t help but all laughing and joining in with the counselors who were dancing around the tree. You’ve never seen anything like it, I swear! Two of the counselors, Jacob and Ramona were dancing together even though they haven’t been talking to each other since they broke up two weeks ago. Just when we thought it couldn’t get any better, we heard a loud banging noise from the kitchen area. We all stopped to look and Lisa grabbed my arm. I think she was scared, but I wasn’t. Then the double doors flew open and guess who came out? Santa Claus! He was lugging a big, red bag and screaming, “Ho Ho Ho!” I couldn’t believe my eyes, but that’s exactly how it happened. The counselors had us all line up and Santa went down the line passing out presents. He stopped in front of me and held the present above my head. Then he asked, “Have you been a good little girl?” I told him that I had. I swore to it! But he still taunted me with it. I was the only girl he did that to and I don’t even know why! But then I noticed something. I think he knew that I noticed, too, because he gave me my gift and moved on quickly. I looked at Lisa and my eyes must have been about the size of golf balls. She started saying, “What? What?” Well, would you believe it? That Santa Claus guy was a fraud. He was the lead counselor, Mark. I could tell it was him because he has the greenest eyes. I didn’t want to ruin it for anyone else, so I didn’t say anything. We were still all having fun dancing and eating sugar cookies cut like Christmas trees and snowflakes. But when I got a minute alone with this so-called Santa Claus, I let him know that I knew he wasn’t the real deal. You should have seen how his eyes widened! I could have laughed my head off and I promised I would never tell anyone what I knew. So don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t think Mark will be picking on me for the rest of the summer though! Love and kisses, Dana 565 Words |
| This is the image that prompted this poem. The Soul Grabbers Do you hear what I hear? Bare feet squeak on tile. Make your way down the dark hall. Drip cold sweat. Do you see what I see? Peak from the door with feared eyes of fate. Dead tree limbs plead for life. Do you smell what I smell? Stale air fused with pine feels like long nights with old books and hushed meals. Do you feel what I feel? A warm breath on the nape of your neck as they grow. “Come here, Child.” |
| “I found your wig,” Mr. Clause told his wife, throwing the blonde mop in her general direction. He pulled his aviators down over his eyes and looked in the mirror. In a Hawaiian shirt and jeans, he was unrecognizable. “I’m telling you, Nick, you should have cut the beard, or at least dyed it black. You know all the kids are going to see it and know exactly who you are.” Mrs. Clause lined her lips with a bright red streak and smacked them together. Mr. Clause waved a hand at her, staring out the window of the hotel room. Their escape from the North Pole had to be clean and concise. They couldn’t have a repeat of last year. Memories flashed like a reel of images through his mind, children pulling at his suit jacket in the airport, paparazzi snapping photos for their magazines. The disappointed look on his elves faces had haunted him all year. They worked so hard year round and there he was, sneaking off for an island vacation. What’s more, Mrs. Clause had insisted they try it again this year. “You know, we could have taken the reindeer.” “What!” She snorted, grabbing the handle of her suitcase and wheeling it toward the door. “Right! All we need right now is Rudolph’s big red nose letting everyone know where we are. Get your stuff. Come on! We’re going to miss our flight.” Their confidence was building as they strolled through airport security with no problem. They didn’t make Mr. Clause strip down in the private room like they had the year before. He was on the lookout now for any similar omens, but they seemed to be just like any of the other passengers, escaping to a warmer place with sand and blue waters for a summer break. “Excuse me, Sir. Sir!” The voice was stern and angry. The couple turned, almost in slow motion, catching each other’s eyes as they faced the voice. A man was running toward them. Santa’s eyes dropped to the floor. He knew they had been caught once again. So much was riding on this vacation. Why did they ever sign that stupid contract saying he would only leave the North Pole for one night a year? The salary just sounded too good at the time to pass up. “Sir, I think you have my bag,” the man in the suit said, motioning to the security checkpoint behind them. “We switched bags back there.” Mr. Clause heard his wife exhale loudly next to him. She must have been holding her breath that whole time. “Oh, you’re right. Mine has the red and green ribbon it!” He said, feeling ecstatic with relief. As they flew over the ocean, on their way to beautiful Oahu, Mrs. Clause held her husband’s hand tightly. This was the first time they’d been out of the North Pole together since the contract had been signed, over twenty years before. The combination of nerves and excitement had them feeling like adventurous newlyweds again. The hotel was a magnificent gem of a place with big French doors that led out to a balcony overlooking the water. They spent the next week soaking up the sun and drinking mojitos. They went sightseeing at the Nuuanu Pali Lookout and did a helicopter tour. They even squeezed in some history lessons when they visited Pearl Harbor, where Mr. Clause wiped away his tears with his beard. The trip had been so relaxing; they didn’t even think to be nervous on the flight home. They arrived at two in the morning, long after the elves had gone to sleep in their cubbies. Alfred, the butler, assured them that no one had suspected a thing. In fact, they had all wanted to stay away from the sick couple to keep from getting the summer flu themselves. When Mr. Clause woke up the next morning, his wife turned to him, a smile on her face. “Oh, Nicholas Clause, I’m falling in love all over again!” she said, brimming with excitement. He held her close to his chest, chin resting against the top of her head. He tried to remember the last time they did this and came up blank. The vacation had awakened their love and he couldn’t have been happier, finally knowing that the risk had been worth the reward in the end. It had revitalized their marriage. At breakfast, Mr. Clause sat at the head of the table, grinning from ear to ear as he scarfed down his pancakes. He had missed all the elves sitting before him, and he could tell his energy was rejuvenated. He was ready to take on the rest of the year and plan for the best Christmas ever. It didn’t take him long to notice, however, that there were many suspicious eyes looking his way. None of them had the courage to say anything, but finally, the bravest of the group came up to the jolly old man. “Hey, Boss! Glad to hear you’re feeling better. Some of us guys are wondering though, where in the world did you get that magnificent tan?” 856 Words |
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I just had a series of very bad flashbacks with this subject. Brrrrrrr!
Just hearing all the kids screaming and stuff... horrible. I couldn't shake that one for a couple days.
