T-L Spencer: Dreaming, Writing, Reading

With there being only four days until christmas, I am completely mystified by the large present that is currently sitting on the leather chair in the corner of the living room. Yes, I will admit, I have been especially spoiled this christmas and am thoroughly looking forward to opening all of the impressive gifts that seem to be sparkling under the tree. But that big box in the corner looks really cool. Mostly because I have no idea as to what it may be. Sixty cm by seventy cm by about twenty: a big box with shiny snowman wrapping paper and no tag. (All xmas tags have clues on them eg Jolly Lovely Season - JLS Album) There are no clues on this gift- it really is a mystery. On top, also wrapped, are two other gifts, smaller than the main one. What could they be? I love surprises, but this is driving me mad!! Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

The heat of the March Spanish sun couldn’t penetrate the thick oak doors of the Irish Bar. Not that heat is really an issue , Jack thought, since it’s beginning to get dark . He huffed loudly and looked around, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkened interior. It was actually quite clean, and surprisingly large, even with the thick oak beams on the ceiling. Large dark wood pillars stood in the centre with pride, adding an aged look to the structure, all of them neatly decorated with Irish heroes. Nice, but not what I’m looking for. What Jack wanted was the bar. He was angry, he was annoyed and he really needed a drink. There it was. Made of mahogany the bar ran the length of the establishment, gracing the right hand side of the building in a soft glow. Like the rest of it, the bar was spotless. There were no spilled drinks, no broken glass. There wasn’t even that faint smell of musk and alcohol. Jack wanted to feel disappointed but couldn’t work up the energy. He was too mad at the...

He had been alone too long. An eternity without companionship was a long time and it was beginning to wear thin. Made at the dawn of time, Raphael had watched over the Earth, healing wounds and time with unparalleled skill and determination, waiting for the prophecy to be fulfilled. Now it had been and as order and goodness had been restored to the world, Raphael had adopted three daughters, who were more precious to him than anything in the entire universe. With them he could be himself, be kind and loving and paternal. Because of them, one of his wishes had been granted. Raphael could be a father. For an archangel to possess such a gift was a rare thing indeed. Be that as it may, he was still lonely. Around the other archangels, Raphael was cold and unfeeling, dedicated to his work, his mission for peace and balance. No one stood in his way as he served the higher power few of them could see, only feel. But he could. He could see the Power glowing all around him. He could see it eve...

 Curled up by the warmth of the fire, drinking hot chocolate, watching the gentle sparkle of the lights on the tree, carols playing softly in the background. Christmas really is my favourite time of year, especially when its white. The thought of donning my wooly hat and scarf in preperation of battle causes excitement to race through me. I would like to celebrate Christmas this year by carrying on with a tradition: the reading of Twas the Night Before Christmas... Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. A...