Chapter 3: What Shall We Do Next?
Deep within the boughs of the tree, the other handmade animals welcomed Joe and Charley with knowing nods. They edged closer together until they were shoulder to shoulder, their heads bowed. Sorrow closed round about them for the fire had been fierce, and lessons had been learned. The group allowed a silent moment.
Suddenly, with her chipmunk squeal and a clap, Tillie Mae said, “So what shall we do? Let’s make this Christmas season the best ever!” She gave a quick twirl as she squeaked the last word.
The Trust League nodded, squared their shoulders in unity, ready to hear Joe read the annual directive. And so began their first meeting of the Christmas season.
You will find the colorful image I placed here when the book is released.
At first the group was silent. The only sound was the rhythmic tick-tick of Edna’s busy knitting needles. Joe breathed in deeply. Then with a grand gesture and twitching ears, he purposefully removed the familiar old note from his button pocket. He unfolded the paper, flattening the well-worn creases carefully as the others leaned forward on their branch, waiting for him to start reading.
Chapter 4
Honorable Wishes
“Before reading the annual directive,” said Joe, “we should remember that long ago, the humankind papa of Thomas hand-carved each one of us. He prayed that we would bring comfort to his wife and son at home. I know we would all be happy to spend the rest of our days as wooden Christmas ornaments, but through the magic of honorable wishes,” he scanned the group and straightened his military jacket, “our mission is important!”
Click, tick, tick.
Joe continued. “Thomas hoped and deeply wished we could help make the spirit of the Christmas season alive again in his small family—for his mama.” He wiped a stray tear with his charred tail. “I shared with you some whisperings Thomas made to me back in those days.” Now his sad ears lay flat against the back of his head. “He spoke like a friend … or a brother.” His lower lip quivered slightly. He blinked to focus on the old worn paper again.
Edna’s needles went quiet.
Joe cleared his throat, straightened his ears, and sucked in a sturdy breath. “Anyway, even though we become wooden again every time the humankind or their younglings see us, we must persevere.”
The group listened quietly. Edna nodded and then resumed her knitting, squinting to focus through her glasses.
You will find the colorful image I placed here when the book is released.
Joe straightened up sharply, held his head high, and read the directive: “Number 1: Encourage Christmas traditions for this family.”
Click … tick …
“Number 2: Initiate new traditions for future generations. This was important to youngling Thomas so many generations ago—the magic of our mission.” Joe pointed at his audience with his frazzled tail for emphasis. Then he folded the delicate paper slowly along the creases and returned it to his chest pocket.
Tick …
Tillie Mae sighed, leaned closer, and set her head tenderly on Edna’s shoulder. “I love to hear the old story of youngling Thomas,” she whispered.
Tick, tick …
Edna yawned, winked at Tillie Mae, and knitted.
- Subscribe Today! The complete story, A Frazzled Christmas Tale, is planned for release in time for the Christmas Season. I will update you with the release information as soon as the illustrations are done. Thank you for reading!
