I'll join!

I will also join.

Thank you! 

I might not always be able to participate though.

I'll join!

I'll join!

I'll join!

(I think you said this month's theme was winter holidays? Just checking! :) )

December's topic is winter holiday, everyone! 

Let's just go for it!

===Unnamed, I'll come up with that later, possibly. For now, let's get to the story.===

Maria was waiting for her father to come home. IT was christmas eve and her father would be home soon. She was still in in her nice white dress and her combed short, dyed blue hair was still neat. Her green eyes glanced around her room. She was 15 and her father was picking something up for her. Her brother Charlie was waiting for Santa to arrive, though he never would. Maria glanced at the clock. 10:24 p.m. Her father should be back any minute.

Her father finally arrived at 10:48 p.m. He came in and asked Maria to take Charlie to bed, as he had allen fast asleep. She carried her 7 year old brother to his room. Then she came down stairs.

"Want me to make something?" Maria asked.

"Sure. How about some pasta?" Her father replied.

"Kay," she said.

They ate dinner together. After, Maria cleaned up and went to bed. 

#Next day

She woke up and got dressed in her red dress. She combed her hair and went downstairs. She and her Father waited for charlie to come down. They ate pancakes, then opened presents. Maria's special gift was the newest phone. She was extemely happy. 

"Why can't I have a phone daddy?" asked Charlie.

"You're not old enough," their father replied.

THE END

Winter holidays isn't the main part of it but it is still mostly related to the theme~

Untitled (if you have any ideas I'm open to hearing them :D)  

The wind blew in frosty torrents, nipping at my cheeks. Even through my rainbow knitted mittens, the cold air numbed my fingers. I stomped my sturdy black boots, trying to spread warmth to the tips of my toes. A strong gust whipped my dark hair into a tangle around my face. I shut my eyes against the stinging wind, my eyelashes stiff with ice.

And yet, it did not snow.

The others were still inside. Warm yellow light poured out of the windows, and the low Christmas music leaked into the outside world. A large fir tree dressed with bright multicolored bulbs and shimmering orbs stood tall in the corner. A bundle of mistletoe hung on a wall, while poinsettias lined the floors and tables. They were laughing, and talking, and singing, their voices were cheery and festive.

Another wind blew, and I winced. I was crouched behind a hedge, which offered some protection from the frigid wind. Not much. My stiff, frozen fingers fumbled to pull my Gryffindor scarf tighter.

The wind blew again, but it was...different, somehow. The air tingled with electricity and the faint tingling of bells could be heard on the crisp breeze

She appeared suddenly, out of a flurry of snow, which quickly dispersed, rising up behind her like smoke. 

Her dress was made of simple, shimmering fabric, and encrusted with light blue jewels and diamonds. Her raven-black hair stood out against her pale face and fell down her back in flawless waves, like a slow-motion waterfall. She was elegant and shockingly beautiful, and the sight of her, appearing so suddenly out of the frozen, empty world, drew my breath away.

She closed her blue-lidded eyes, and lifted her face to the sky. She lifted her arms and moved her lips wordlessly, and slowly, slowly, snow started to fall from the slate-gray sky.

I climbed out from behind the hedge, my jacket scraping on the sharp twigs. I left behind white footprints pressed into the light layer of snow as I made my way across the lawn. I hesitated to approach, I felt suddenly self-conscious being faced with so much beauty and power.

She turned anyway, and startled slightly, before her face unclouded with recognition. "Eira, hello."

"Hi, Snow Queen," I replied, my eyes fixated on my snow boots.

She laughed, and her laughter sounded like tinkling sleigh bells, all merry and bright and musical. "Enough with that nonsense, my little snow angel. Call me Mom."

"I'm not that little, I'll be thirteen in two months," I said.

"Yes, that's right," said my mother, her voice crystal clear despite the whirling snow surrounding us. "And soon you'll start your training to become the next snow queen."

She looked toward the sky, and a small crease appeared between her brows. "I'd better be going," she said.

"Why? Can't you stay for just a little longer?" I pleaded, but I knew she was going to turn me down.

"It's Christmas Eve," she said, smiling sadly. "People will be expecting a white Christmas tomorrow, and I've got lots of work to do."

She kissed my forehead and turned on her heel, evaporating into a flurry of snow.

"Bye," I said softly, even though she was too far away to hear.

I opened the dark red door of our house and slipped inside. The loud holiday music and the chatter of people talking brought a smile to my face. I unfastened the buttons on my slightly-too-big coat and looked for an empty hook to hang it on. They're all used up, with jackets of all sizes, as a result of my family's Christmas party. I decided to stuff my jacket and boots into the closet and call it a day.

I discretely made my way into the living room, never one for much socialization. I plopped down on an armchair in front of the fire to defrost. My stepsister came around and offered me a cup of hot cocoa.

"Thanks, Jolie," I said, taking the mug. She was older than me, thirteen going on fourteen, and much taller. She had delicate features, white-blonde hair, and eyes that strongly resembled the ice-blue of window panes after the first frost. I couldn't help thinking she looks like she should be the snow queen's apprentice, not me.

I took a cautious sip of my hot cocoa, allowing the warm exterior of the mug to thaw my hands. "Hey, Eira," my father said as he takes a seat next to me in the armchair. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," I replied softly. He doesn't remember my mother as anyone other than the woman he loved, then lost in a snowstorm that fateful winter five years ago.

But it's a lie she constructed to protect our family, because she couldn't keep her identity secret while living with a normal family in our normal suburban neighborhood. My dad never believed in magic, and he doesn't remember the truth.

I know who my mother really is, and next year, I'll get to see her again, not just for a night, but to become her apprentice, and to one day become the snow queen myself.

I take another sip of my hot cocoa and look out the frosted window at the crystalline flakes falling in the darkening sky, our Christmas tree's lights reflected in the glass.