Merry Christmas Reading
Stories for children and young at heart adults
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Tag Archives: ebooks
A Christmas Alice in Wonderland Story
A Christmas Alice in Wonderland Story
First, she discovered Wonderland…
Then she slipped through that fascinating Looking Glass…
Now, she’s on Top of the World…
THE CONTINUING ADVENTURES OF A GIRL NAMED ALICE
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Ever since I began writing, I wanted to create something special, a story to capture the hearts, minds and, above all, imagination of you, the readers, I hope that, in penning this story, about the continuing adventures of a girl named Alice, I might, just might have achieved this ambition.
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AN EXCERPT
It was many years later when Alice had her next adventure, and whilst she was quite surprised to be having one at all, after the passing of so many years, she was even more surprised to see that she was a child again, no older than when she had first entered Wonderland and slipped through that fascinating Looking Glass.
“How curious,” she whispered, trying to recall the child she had once been.
“You took your time getting here,” said the White Rabbit who suddenly appeared in front of her.
“I beg your pardon?” Alice replied, remembering how rude he could be, if he felt so inclined.
“I said you took your time getting here. You should have been here fourteen years ago,” the Rabbit huffed indignantly as he began hopping quickly away from Alice.
“But,” Alice spluttered, running after him, “I have no idea how I arrived, let alone why I am so late!”
“We accept no ifs or buts, here – you should know that by now,” said the Rabbit, as he opened a door which had appeared as suddenly as he. Stepping through, he said, “Hurry up, please don’t dawdle.”
As she followed him through the doorway, trying her to keep up with the fast-hopping Rabbit, Alice surmised that he must have got out his bed on the wrong side, this morning, to be so grumpy on so wonderful a day. And it really was a wonderful day, with a warm sun shining brightly upon them.
‘I wonder where I might possibly be?’ thought Alice, as she admired the pink forget-me-nots skirting a winding path before her. “Am I in Wonderland?” she asked, just as another door, the same as the first one, appeared.
Giving Alice a most peculiar look, the Rabbit said, “Of course we are not in Wonderland.” Opening the door, he told her, “We are on the top of the world.” Having said that, he scurried off, hopping down another winding path, also bordered by pink forget-me-nots.
“The top of the world?” Alice cried out, quite in surprise. “Why, that’s impossible!”
The Rabbit stopped hopping. Turning around, facing Alice, he said, “Then how can you be here, if it’s impossible?”
Flummoxed by the Rabbit’s question, Alice found herself struggling to find a reply. The only thing she was able to come up with was, “I bet you are mad!”
“That all depends,” the Rabbit replied quite matter-of-factly.
“It all depends on what?”
“On whether you mean mad or mad.”
“That’s silly,” said Alice. “They both mean the very same thing.”
“If you were mad number one,” said the White Rabbit, with full conviction of the soundness of his case, “and someone happened to tell you that you were mad number two, you might be very mad indeed, at so fundamental a mistake.”
“But I’m not mad!” Alice insisted, becoming ever more frustrated at so silly a conversation.
“How do you know that you aren’t mad,” asked the Rabbit, who appeared to be enjoying flummoxing Alice, so “when you can’t tell the difference between mad number one and mad number two, I might ask?”
“I just know that I’m not mad!” Alice insisted, stamping her foot, displaying her annoyance at what she considered was questionable logic. Changing the subject, from her possible madness or claimed sanity, Alice informed the Rabbit that another door had appeared and was awaiting his attention.
Turning round, the White Rabbit took hold of the handle and tried to open the door, but it remained stubbornly shut.
“Might I try?” Alice asked, feeling very un-mad. Standing away from the door, the White Rabbit said nothing, but his pink, beady eyes watched her intently.
The door opened easily for Alice. Feeling vindicated, she said, “Could a mad person have done that?” Without waiting for a reply, she stepped through the doorway and fell into a gaping hole on the far side.
“No, they mightn’t,” said the Rabbit, laughing as she disappeared into the hole. “But would they have fallen down there?” Laughing again, he hopped through doorway and into the hole, following Alice…
CONTD
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Harry Rotter: Chapter Four
Harry Rotter
Chapter Four
Secrecy, at Any Cost
Next morning, Harry, knocking softly on Box’s bedroom door, whispered, “Box, are you awake?”
“Hmm, what is it?” he sleepily replied.
“I said, are you awake?”
“What time is it?” Box asked, while rubbing his eyes.
“It’s half past six.”
“Half past six, are you sure?” Box asked, unwilling to believe that even she would consider awakening him at so early an hour. Reaching for his glasses on the bedside locker, and then grabbing hold of his watch, Box looked at it, and saw that it was indeed that time.
“Yes, I am sure of it,” said Harry, though louder this time. “Are you getting up or do I have to send off for that snake, again?”
Remembering the snake, and what it had done to him, Box jumped out of bed, and said, “I am getting up – I really am!”
CONTD
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Merry Princessmas
Merry Christmas
Or should that be Merry Princessmas?
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Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year from the Crazymad Writer
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Harry Rotter
Chapter One
No, Our Best China’s in There!
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Christmas Countdown
Christmas is coming
So GET SHOPPING!
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Wot, Nott, Kakuri and the HU BA HOU:
Part One – The Fabled Crest
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The Fog: an extraordinary tale
The Fog
It was a cold November evening, so cold the weak, autumnal sun made no inroad into the heavy frost that had descended the previous night. As I approached my friends’ house, I looked forward to the warmth of their fire, the congenial atmosphere, and a glass of warm Madeira wine. It was a custom, a family tradition to offer their visitors this warming imbibe, a custom that had survived the passage of time, including the family’s migration from the tiny outpost of the same name, far out in the Atlantic Ocean, to merry old England. Generations of guests had enjoyed this warming drink on such cold wintry nights.
Opening the gate, I walked along the path, admiring the garden that was always in such pristine condition, no matter what time of year or how bad the weather happened to be. Lifting the doorknocker, a facsimile of a lion’s head, I gave the door an assertive knock. I waited for my hosts to respond.
“Is that Jeremiah?” Christine asked, calling to her husband, upstairs.
“Yes, darling,” Charles replied, making his way downstairs, to the door. Opening it, he greeted me. Seeing how frosty and cold it was outside, he said, “Welcome, Jeremiah. You must be frozen – come in. Hand me your coat and hat, then get yourself to the sitting room.”
I made my way into the sitting room, where Charles offered me the armchair directly in front of their roaring log fire. Stretching out my hands, warming them, I thanked him for his hospitality.
Entering the room, Christine said, “Jeremiah, it’s so good to see you – and on such a cold night!”
“You know me,” I chuckled, “out in all weathers…”
“Out in all weathers is one thing – but this?” she replied, opening the curtains, gazing at the frost covered ground.
“How about a nice glass of Madeira, to warm you up?” Charles asked.
“Sounds good,” I replied.
Picking up the bottle of Madeira wine that had been resting in front of the fire, warming, he said, “Won’t be a tick.”
I smiled; I had no need to reply, because my two friends, whom I had known all my life, knew me inside out.
“Here you are,” said Charles, “a glass for the weary traveller.” He handed me a glass full to the brim with the fiery brown liquid. “And one for you, dear,” he added, offering his wife a glass, also.
As my two hosts joined me, relaxing in their wonderfully comfortable armchairs, sitting in front of the sparkling, crackling log fire, I thanked my God to have been blessed with such good friends.
As we caught up with all the gossip, talked about our plans for the future, and reminisced about the good, fun times we had enjoyed over the years, the evening passed quickly (time seems to have that effect, when you’re having a good time, doesn’t it?).
Glancing at my watch, I was shocked to see that was past eleven, so knocking back the last of my Madeira wine (my fourth glassful, I might add), I thanked my congenial hosts for their hospitality, then extricated myself from the comfortable chair.
“You’re welcome,” said Christine, giving me a little peck on the cheek.
Handing me my coat and hat, Charles said, “You’re always welcome in our home.”
Buttoning my coat, pulling the belt tightly closed, I shivered, thinking of the cold night facing me outside. After donning my hat, I was ready to go.
Charles gasped in shock when he opened the door. “Look,” he said, “I’ve never seen so bad a fog!”
While we had been cosy and warm inside, drinking our Madeira wine, having a good time, a heavy fog had descended. It was bad, really bad, a pea souper if ever I saw one.
“You will have to stay here for the night,” Charles insisted. “You’ll never find your way home in that!”
CONTD
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Stories, eBooks for children and
young at heart adults
By ME, The Crazymad Writer – ARRRRGH.
Half a Pound of Tuppeny Rice (Whiz-Popping)
Half a pound of tuppeny rice,
Half a pound of fine treacle,
Mix it up and eat it all down,
WHIZ-POPPING begins – I’m sorry!
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Up and down the city road,
To buy a box of Eno’s,
That’s the way the money goes,
WHIZ-POPPING continues – I’m sorry!
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Half a pound of tuppeny rice,
Half a pound of fine treacle,
I mixed it up and ate it all down,
WHIZ-POPPING persists – I’M SORRY, I REALLY AM SORRY.
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The Crazymad Writer Writes Again 