RUDOLPH

 

RUDOLPH

Kate and Steve had rented the Air-BNB hoping their family could enjoy Christmas without fighting. It was ostentatiously rugged, with faux log walls, but the sofas were comfortable and the fire warm. Each day the children wore themselves out playing in the snow, and the adults enjoyed long, relaxing evenings.

Then on Christmas Eve Kate suddenly screamed, “That head moved!”

Steve almost dropped his drink. “The nose is glowing red too!”

“Open the door,” boomed a voice and Steve, ashen-faced, obeyed.

On a blast of freezing air a rotund figure entered. “Come on, Rudolph, we’ve been waiting for you.”

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Thanks to Alicia Jamtaas for this week's Firday Fictioneers' image, which has prompted me to dash off a story before my day begins with a stint at the charity shop. Seeing a photo of a log cabin with a fire is an unwelcome reminder that winter is not too far away - and I'm still hoping my grapes will ripen!