Do you feel like reading an unconventional, Christmas-related-but-in-a-weird-way, short story? It involves dwarfs, a courageous mother, and waistcoat buttons. I've written and posted one on my personal blog. Here's a preview.
"Gold Thread At Christmas"
Shivering, the dwarf pressed both hands into his armpits. His summer jacket was as inconsequential here as if the void through which he had passed had spat him out naked. While he waited for the dizziness to pass, he scowled at the brick buildings that loomed upwards in their narrow lots—they filled him with a sense of puny unimportance. This world was tall and bland, full of unadorned cart horses and workmen in iced-over mustaches. He would be doing a favor to the child he had come to take.
Despite the cold, the dwarf unfastened the second to last button on his waistcoat before he selected assistance.
“I beg your pardon,” he declared, barring their path. “Can you gentleman direct me to the location of the royal birth?”
Two bewhiskered faces stared down at him. One guffawed, baring tobacco stained teeth. “What have we here? A circus midget? Better get back to your keepers, little fellow, or you’re liable to be mistaken for an organ-grinder’s monkey.”
“Look at him!” exclaimed the plump one. “Gold embroidery, red cap, the lot.”
Stepping backward, the small traveler cracked his hairy knuckles. “I beg your pardon,” he repeated grimly. “Do you intend to answer my question?”
“Loopy,” the tobacco-lover observed.
The plump one added more kindly, “This is a democracy, my small friend. We don’t hold much with royalty here.”
Read the rest of the story HERE.