Christmas Dreams

My short story for children, entitled ‘Christmas Dreams‘, is now published in Storm Cloud Publishing’s Christmas Tales 3. You can read it here too.

I stood at the top of the ramp, settled myself on the skateboard and prepared to sail down to the bottom. My stomach turned a somersault. Keeping my eyes on the slope ahead, I tried to ignore the voice in my head saying it was too scary. The crowd went silent, waiting for the starting gun. Bang! Off we went. I had a lot to lose if I fell off. At the bottom of the slope, I pushed with my right foot to get up enough speed to go up the other side of the ramp. Suddenly the ground shuddered like there was an earthquake. I woke up to find my big sister Sylvie shaking me.

“Come on, Tim. It’s Christmas. Let’s go and check the presents,” she said.

There were two big boxes under the tree. “They have to be skateboards,” I whispered.

She grinned. “Definitely looks like it.”

When Mum and Dad got up they took forever with breakfast. Then we had to do the Christmas ritual of opening all the presents one by one. I thought we’d never get to those big boxes. After the usual chocolates and socks, there were two lumpy packages that turned out to be Converse boots in our favourite colours – black for me and red for Sylvie. Perfect for skateboarding, I thought. I was squirming with excitement. Finally, only the two big boxes were left and Sylvie and I opened them together. We didn’t race. We took it slowly and in sync with each other. Peeling off the sticky tape, pulling back the paper, opening the box and – I was gobsmacked. Inside mine was a ukulele. And to make it worse, Sylvie had a skateboard.

“Oh, thanks,” I stammered, trying to hide my disappointment. Luckily there was a knock on the door and Gran and Gramps arrived for lunch. While everyone talked at once, I ran to my room and threw myself on the bed in tears. “Why? Why? Why?” I shouted into the pillow. “It’s so not fair. Just because Sylvie’s four years older than me she gets a skateboard and I get a stupid ukulele.”

Mum put her head around my door and said, “Oh, darling, I know you wanted piano lessons but we haven’t got a piano so a ukulele seemed like a good idea.”

“What?” I answered. “No, you don’t understand, it’s not that, it’s just that I really wanted a skateboard!”

“But you’re not really old enough –”

“Yes, I am,” I yelled. “Why am I always treated like a baby?”

“Calm down,” Mum soothed. “I know you’re a big boy but let’s not spoil Christmas. I’m sure Sylvie will let you have a go on hers but right now it’s time for lunch.”

The roast chicken smelled great but the mouthfuls just seemed to stick in my throat. Then the afternoon seemed to drag on for ever. As usual, we sat around the TV as the same Christmas movie droned on and on. Gran and Gramps fell asleep. Soon enough, the sound of snoring drifted up from the couch and it grew louder and louder. Within minutes, Dad and Mum had joined in the snoring chorus too. I watched Sylvie spinning the wheels of her skateboard. I was so jealous I nearly burst.

When she got up and snuck out the door, I followed her. Outside, she hopped on the board and zipped up and down the footpath.

“Look what Talia taught me on her board,” she called out.

“Can I have a go?” I asked.

“Just a short one.”

I knew exactly what to do but, when I put my foot on the board, it felt like it had turned to jelly on an ice rink. I tried to steady myself but I wobbled and lost my balance. The next thing I knew I was on my knees in the gutter and both of them were stinging like crazy. Sylvie pulled me up and said I should wear kneepads.

“I haven’t got any. I’m going to try again,” I told her. The same thing happened. Tears of frustration pricked my eyes. I kicked the kerb hard. I wanted to have another go but I really needed to go indoors and bandage my bleeding knees. I could tell by the way Mum dabbed furiously with the wet cotton wool that she was angry but she didn’t want to spoil Christmas. I limped into the lounge room and picked up my ukulele. It’s true, I have been asking for piano lessons and I do like music.

The movie was ending and Gran hugged me and said, “That’s a very neat ukulele, Tim. You know, I can play a few chords, myself.” We had fun trying to play easy songs and Gramps sang the words. He sings like a frog croaking! Sylvie clapped and said I was doing really well. She also offered to give me skateboard lessons if I promised to wear kneepads and a helmet.

That night I dreamed I was in a big concert. My left fingertips moved quickly over the fretboard and my right hand strummed furiously. I sang with a loud, clear voice and the audience burst into applause. The youngest solo performer on ukulele had arrived on the world stage.