Category: My Stories

X-mas Read | The Porcelain Santa

~ Ofelia Gränd ~ 2 Comments

X-mas-read

Flash fiction anyone? I used to write a lot of flash fiction, but it’s been ages since I did now. The Porcelain Santa is something I wrote waaaayyyy back in 2014, so I don’t dare to read it LOL

Some lovely people put together a holiday blog hop where everyone participating should write a story under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella with less than 3000 words including: 

• A winter holiday theme

• A “bad boy” character

• A gift of some kind

Below, you can read what I wrote.

Porcelain

The Porcelain Santa

Sprawled on the window seat, I watched the snow falling outside. I love this time of year, love the preparations, the anticipation, and the serenity that comes with Christmas. The cup in my hand warmed my skin, and my flat smelled of candles and holiday biscuits. Even the normally depressing courtyard outside my window could’ve starred as a motif on a Christmas card with the glistening snow that clung to every surface. I closed my eyes with a content sigh…and heard the all too familiar noise of a snowmobile. Flying up into a sitting position, I made the tea in my cup spill over the rim and onto my fingers. The snowmobile was skidding over the yard—messing up the untouched snow. That fucking idiot! Why did he always have to destroy everything?

I glared at Zach through the window, he knew I was there of course, and he turned to give me a cheeky smile before heading for the front door. Bastard! I blew out the candles and stomped out to the kitchen where I poured the remaining tea down the sink. Since the day he’d moved in, he’d ruined things for me. Always loud, always there, always so fucking handsome. I wanted to strangle him.

¤¤¤

I might have stayed a little longer than usual in bed the following morning, and I might have taken a little longer to eat my breakfast, but no matter how much I delayed it, I had to go to work—my last workday before the holiday.

Zach always went before I did, about eight minutes before. But today he was late. I sighed, making the glass in the peephole fog. Finally, I saw his door open on the other side of the hallway. I closed my eyes and counted to a hundred before I opened my door, sauntered down the eight steps, and went outside with a quick look around. Zach was nowhere to be seen, I could’ve sagged in relief.

“Hey, Benji! Wait up!” Where the hell had he been hiding? I gave him an icy stare. His confident grin made me want to smack him. Or kiss him. Either or. Those warm dark eyes glowed, and I just loved the way his black hair became a curly mess when it got a little too long. The knitted cap he wore today hid most of his curls, and it infuriated me that I felt disappointed for being unable to see them.

“You shouldn’t be walking in this weather. Come on let me drive you to work.”

“I’m not getting on that snowmobile,” I exclaimed appalled.

His lips twitched as he fought a laugh. “I do have a car, you know.”

I hadn’t known that. He was on that damned Ski-Doo all the time. “Then why do you ride that thing?”

“Because you’re pretty when you’re angry.” I gaped at him. The nerve! I was not pretty, and I did not get angry. I was hardly ever angry! “See, like that,” he said, and I swear his eyes twinkled. “Come on, I drive past your work anyway.”

“How would you know where I work?”

Zach raised a brow. “You work at Simon’s, everyone knows that.”

Everyone did not know that, hardly anyone knew that. Of course, people knew that I worked there, it’s a café and people aren’t blind, but…

We reached the garage, and it turned out Zach did have a car. “Here, let me take your bag.” He took it and held the passenger door open. I squinted at him before climbing in. He took an awfully long time walking around the car, and once he started driving, he was looking more at me than on the traffic. “So, Benji, where will you be spending Christmas?”

“At home,” I grumbled.

“Not going anywhere?”

“No.”

“Not having anyone over?”

“No.” I didn’t look at him. Since he kept looking at me, I felt the need to keep my eyes on the road.

“Why don’t you talk to me?

“Have nothing to say.”

Zach nodded. “We’ll change that.”

I snorted, relieved that we’d reached Simon’s. Jumping out of the car I noticed Zach doing the same. I frowned as he handed me my backpack. I can’t believe I forgot it.

“See you later,” Zach said with a kind of smile I hadn’t seen before. What was he up to? His eyes were soft, but that grin made me cautious. I nodded and went to work.

¤¤¤

The smile that had played on my lips the entire way home from work, died when I unlocked the front door. My hand-painted porcelain Santa Claus was crushed, there were tiny pieces all over the hallway floor.

Someone had been in my flat! My stomach clenched as I peered into the living room. No one there.

That’s when I noticed a box of chocolate on the hall table where the Santa had been. A note was sticking out of it. I took it and read, “I have a gift for you. Love Zach.”

I stared at it, stared at the broken Santa, and swung around. That fucking bastard! I stomped over to his flat and banged on the door. He opened it, a look of uncertainty flitted across his face before his usual confident grin took over.

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I…er…I was gonna leave you a box of chocolate.”

“So you picked my lock?”

“Well, yeah. You really should get a tumbler lock.”

“What the fuck, Zach!”

“Yeah…but, I wanted to give you something tonight, so when I had the chance by the car this morning, I slipped your calendar out of your bag—only to make sure you’d be free. I picked your lock to leave the note, I never meant to break the china thing!”

“Why would you do such a thing?” My jaw ached from how hard I was grinding my teeth.

“To make you come over here.”

“Why would I come over here?”

“To have dinner with me.” He stepped aside to show a beautifully set table with candles and white lilies. “But now I realise that we need to go down to the novelty shop to get you a new porcelain thing.”

“Was my calendar the gift you were referring to in the note,” I groused, annoyed with myself for not being angrier with him.

His nose crinkled. “Of course not! That was just to check if you were free.”

“So…dinner is the gift?”

“Yeah…well, I was thinking…kinda like…er…I’m the gift.”

I felt my eyes go wide. “You’re the gift?”

“Yeah, look I have a ribbon and everything.” He started to unbutton his jeans.

“Zach!” He looked up and winked. “That’s so fucking lame,” I breathed and felt my face warm.

He smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m serious. I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“What the hell are you playing at?”

“Oh, come on, baby. You’re not that blind, are you? I like you. I want you.”

“But, you’re always making me angry.”

“Noo, I always make you notice me.” He leaned in, his breath ghosted over my skin. He lingered there, his lips almost touching mine. I heard myself whimper. He kissed me then, holding me close while exploring my mouth. I moaned, and his lips stretched into a smile. “Come on, let’s go buy you a new figurine.”

I nodded, a little dazed. He blew out the candles, grabbed his jacket, put his hand down the front of his jeans, and pulled out a red ribbon that he tossed into his flat before closing the door behind us.

The End

X-mas Read | Boughs of Evergreen

~ Ofelia Gränd ~ Leave a comment

X-mas-read

There are no guests today, so I thought I’d fill up the slot with one my Christmas stories, instead.

One of the first stories I wrote was From All of Us to All of You. It’s part of the Boughs of Evergreen anthology from Beaten Track Publishing which is an anthology with a mix of short YA/NA holiday stories.

Boughs-of-Evergreen-Text

First, I thought I’d list all the covers and blurbs, but the anthology consists of twenty-two stories – yes, I’m too lazy.

My favourites are Kiss Me at Kwanzaa by LL Bucknor, Always have, Always will by Amelia Mann, Shiny Things by Amy Spector, The Invasion of Tork by Al Stewart and Claire Davis – there are more stories I would recommend (if you read horror (and F/F), Terry Kerr’s A Family Christmas! Love that one LOL) but I’ll move on to sharing an excerpt instead.

Lucia

Today it’s Lucia. It’s strange that we celebrate an Italian saint in Sweden when the rest of the world doesn’t. But we do. My kids will be dressed up in Lucia gear tomorrow. Normally, we’d start the day going to the school to watch them walk in the dark morning with lit candles while singing Christmas songs, but not this year. They’ll be dressed up, and each class will sing a song that the teacher will film and then share with us – not nearly as atmospheric.

In From All of Us to All of You they’re also celebrating Lucia.

Excerpt:

I tried not to think about the other people in church, and what they would think when they saw me. I knew they judged my mother, and pitied me, hell they would even pity Annie, and normally I would hide in the back. But, not today!

Monica actually made it better. Now they wouldn’t think that poor deserted boy. Now they would think, Oh, how nice of her to sit next to him. Okay, maybe that wasn’t better, but still, they wouldn’t think I was alone. People thought that just because you stuck to yourself, you were lonely. I wouldn’t call myself lonely. Okay, I was pretty lonely, but I chose to be. Better to be lonely, than have to explain the whole thing.

One failed stint at the university had taught me everything I needed to know about myself. I’d gotten free therapy through school, but even though my therapist had made some good points, what I’d really learned was that I couldn’t handle the real world. I couldn’t cope with the pressure of having to accomplish something, be someone. So, I’d moved back home to our small southwestern town, and gotten a job as a cashier at the smallest food market that wasn’t a neighborhood corner store. I’d been a cashier there for four years now.

“Natten går tunga fjät…” Oh, here they came. Monica, grumbled something next to me, before turning her attention to the children striding down the aisle. I almost became a little teary-eyed. They were adorable, all of them, and Annie was beautiful. She was concentrating really hard on holding her head straight and her hands palm to palm, while singing along in the Santa Lucia song.

The dark church instantly became brighter when the children took their place in front of the altar. After a few songs, four of the Lucias took a step forward. One by one they each lit one of the four tapers in the large candelabra, and then read a verse.

I saw Annie’s hand shake when she held the match to the wick, but she read her poem flawlessly. It was nerve-racking to read a verse in front of this many people, and she didn’t even stutter. I was so proud.

When the four candles were lit, and the girls had returned to their places among the others, they sang a few more songs before the procession took its leave. First the Lucias, then the handmaidens, then the star boys, and last the gingerbread men, and the brownies.

There was applause, of course. What parent wouldn’t applaud their child after such a performance?

“Lucia bread and glögg in the parish house?” I asked Monica with a smile.

“Yes, of course,” she answered, almost as excited as I was.

From All of Us To All of YouSimon is counting the days to Christmas, not because he likes the Holidays – no, he hates them. He dreads every single holiday ever created, but Christmas it the worst. As if his dad’s drunken snores and his mother’s faked Christmas spirit isn’t enough, his sister has decided to celebrate Christmas elsewhere this year.

The stress and anxiety drive Simon crazy. When he is introduced to a work colleague’s son, Hannes, he mistakenly believes he’s been set up on a blind date. Even after Hannes sets him straight in his assumptions, he keeps seeing signs that shouldn’t be there. Is Hannes lying when he says he isn’t interested or has the Christmas stress finally driven Simon mad?

books2read.com/FromAllOfUs

X-mas Read | Turning Wood by Ofelia Gränd

~ Ofelia Gränd ~ 2 Comments

X-mas-read

Today, I’m stealing a spot for myself. Turning Wood was published last year. It’s a short Christmas story about Otho Newcomer and Mason Dager and it was the story that started the whole Up North series.

I hadn’t planned on it being part of a series, but for some reason, I feel right at home in the woods around Nortown and Northfield. When I needed a doctor, doctor Ash, who’s crushing on Andre in the Nortown books, popped up. It wasn’t my intentions to put him there, but I did. Then I figured, since I’d already started, I might as well continue.

All Up North stories are standalone, more so than the Nortown stories. The only thing linking the books is the location.

Coolest of all is that Turning Woods is part of the 2020 Top Ten Gay Romance anthology from JMS Books that will be released on December 30th. 

Turning-Ice-breaking

Excerpt:

Looking up from his work, he saw something move—a man walking out on the ice on the river. Was he insane? The currents were too strong there; the ice wasn’t thick enough to walk on. It had closed over yesterday when the temperature had dropped, but it broke open now and then, a constant struggle between the current and the ice.

Before Otho’s brain caught up with what he was doing, he’d dropped the gouge on the ground and ran out from under the carport.

“Hey!” He waved his arms, but the man didn’t look in his direction. “Hey! You, hello!” He ran, his heavy boots sinking into the snow. He jumped over the snowdrift on the other side of the narrow gravel road passing by his cabin. The reeds buried underneath the snow tangled around his ankles, but he kept going.

“Hey, you!” He waved more, but the man didn’t so much as glance in his direction. Shit. When Otho stepped onto the ice, he slowed down. This close to the land it shouldn’t be any danger, but Otho feared he weighed more than the man. It was a grown man, though, not some teen who didn’t know better.

“Come on, man! Come back here!” Otho took one slow step after the other, and in that moment, the man turned around to face him. Otho blew out a breath and waved.

The sound of the ice breaking shouldn’t have been so loud, but it was. It was as if it was moaning a protest before opening its jaws to swallow the man. Otho’s heart stopped. “No!”

For half a second, he stood immobilized, then he dug into his pocket for his phone and called the emergency service center. He slid down on his stomach and crawled over the ice while waiting for the call to connect.

A sharp intake of air was all he heard from the man as he hurried the best he could. A woman talking in a clear, calm voice answered.

“A man has gone through the ice of the river.” Otho almost hung up before adding, “By River Cove on Lakeside Lane in Snowmelt.” He disconnected. He probably should have said more, but the man was freezing to death or drowning. With the pulse drumming in his ears, he pictured the man sliding in under the ice. His breath froze, and he pushed himself forward.

The edge of the hole came closer. The black water looked alive, angry, and threatening as it tried to pull the man under. Only his head and part of his shoulders remained above the surface. His skin was white, not pale, white. His lips blue, his eyes wide, and his body stiff. Otho dragged himself forward, spreading his weight over as large an area as possible.

“Easy.” He was talking to himself as much as to the man. “Can you grab the edge?”

He still had about four feet to go to where the water lapped at the ice, but he didn’t know how much closer he dared move. The man’s wide eyes latched on to his, and Otho forced a calm expression to his face. “Good.”

The man had done nothing, but Otho figured he couldn’t go wrong with praise. “Now can you try to swim?”

He didn’t move, did nothing but stare at Otho.

“Come closer and try to put your elbows on the ice.”

The man continued to stare and his dark lashes were turning whiter by the second. Damn, he needed out of the cold. Otho crawled closer, listening to the ice as he did. His heart was hammering in his throat. If he went through the ice, he would curse himself his entire afterlife—if there was one.

Turning-WoodFor Otho Newcomer, the small village of Snowmelt is a haven from his old life. If he’s not exactly a changed man, he at least hopes to keep his distance from all those easy romances, and the inevitable heartache and disappointment that have always followed.

Mason Dager is an idiot. His ex has cleared out his bank account, sold his car and gotten him thrown out of his apartment. And he has no one to blame but himself. But what better way to celebrate a new chapter in his life—one that includes homelessness and the humiliation of telling his family they were right all along—than to spend Christmas at a swanky winter resort like River Cove? It’s already paid for after all.

When a very drunk Mason makes yet another dumb decision, Otho comes to the rescue, throwing the two men together during the most magical time of the year.

What should be the wrong choice for both of them, might be exactly what they need. They’ll just have to survive a nosy best friend, an asshole of an ex, and the scars of their pasts.

books2read.com/TurningWood