FRIDAY FICTION with RONOVAN WRITES Prompt Challenge Holiday Special – Santa’s Cookies

Ronovan is back with his Friday Fiction Prompts, and so, here I am, jumping on the first one in a while!

Prompt for Challenge

  • ‘Santa arrives at the home of Harry Potter where the Potter children have left cookies and milk for Santa to eat. He does. What happens next?’ REQUIRED
  • Word Count is 500 words or lessREQUIRED

Santa’s Cookies

After checking his list, Santa rummaged around in his sack and located the presents for the Potter children. Setting them under the tree, he made his way back to the fireplace, ready to leave, when he noticed the snacks.

“Now, this looks rather interesting.” Santa removed his soot-covered mask, dislodging a few black particles, before smoothing his snow-white beard.

A hand-written note accompanied the plates and glass.

 Deer Santa,

 We howp yoo hav a gud trip arownd the world toniyt.
 We hav been veri gud this yeer.
 Mummy sez my spelling is getting beter, but my spells are perfec.
 Howp you lyk the cukiys and caruts.

 Love from
 Teddy and lily and albus and james
 (but mostly Teddy bcos I mayd the cukiys )

“Milk and cookies, as usual, but these cookies seem to have a certain glow about them.” He took a bite, the biscuit melting in his mouth. It wasn’t long before he’d emptied the plate, and drained the glass of milk, letting out a small belch, after.

Santa rubbed his belly and smiled at the other small plate, which displayed carrots for the reindeer. Emptying them into his pocket, he popped his mask back on and whooshed back up the chimney.

The reindeer stood patiently on the roof. Santa felt in his pockets and found the carrots, speedily offering them to the waiting animals, who snuffled them up within seconds.

He settled into the sleigh, and with a shake of the reins, the sleigh and Santa disappeared into the night.

The scuffling noise from above stopped, and little Teddy stepped out from behind the curtains.

“Wow! I really did get to see Santa! The others won’t believe me. They never do. But I did. I saw him. And he read my letter and ate all my cookies. I do hope my spells worked. I’d hate for Christmas to come to a halt because Santa ended up with the virus. The cookies and carrots were magic, so they don’t get sick. Well, I hope they were, anyway.”

He glanced at the pile of presents left behind and smiled.

“I’ve definitely been a good boy this year.”

I’m not a HP fan, so I hope I did okay with this one!


friday-fiction-200.pngI have really been enjoying these fiction challenges with Ron, and he’s chucked us another doozy this week! Check it out here.

Prompt for Challenge #9

FIRST OF ALL: Please remember, this is NOT a race. Take your time. Friday is only a part of the title, not a deadline.

Ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine.

  1. Include the above sentence somewhere in your work of fiction. (Required.)
  2. Keep your word count at no more than 500 words this week. (Suggested.) Do NOT let your story suffer because of the word count limit. Remember, it is a suggested part of the prompt.

So here is my attempt… Any feedback is welcomed 🙂


I looked up at the clock. It was 3.23pm.

Two hours and seven minutes left until freedom.

But I still had to suffer those one hundred and twenty-seven minutes.

I glanced around and saw my colleagues, all looking very industrious, eyes trained to the screens, fingers tapping away at the keyboard, whispering into their headset microphones, responding to the voices being transmitted into their ears by the earphones.

But I had definitely had enough. This really wasn’t for me.

I knew what I really wanted to do, and this most definitely wasn’t it.

I shouldn’t really be sat here, apologising for the mistakes of others. It was nothing to do with me, what that stupid company had done to so many of their customers, yet I was sat here, alongside a team of around 20 others, fielding calls from irate customers, cooing false apologies and making unrealistic promises.

3.46pm. Only a few moments had passed, I had spoken to yet another disappointed customer, and I had parroted the standard response as we had been instructed to do.

But this job was a means to an end. I needed to work to pay my rent. My other ‘job’ hadn’t quite taken off as I had hoped, yet, but it would. Of that I was sure.

Not long until I could sign out of here, and wave goodbye, forever, to this place.

Maybe tonight would be the night I’d be discovered. I had another gig at the local club, a half hour set as a warm up act for the main event. I couldn’t wait to grip that microphone in my hand and belt out a few classic songs. That half an hour is never long enough…

It’s true you know, that saying, time flies when you’re having fun. But it sure as heck drags when you aren’t.

I remember reading somewhere ‘Ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine.’

I think now, I finally understood what it meant.

My phone buzzed again, and I sighed as I connected the call. “Good afternoon. You’re through to Coldpoint, how may I assist you?”

The clock said 3.52pm…

Ritu 2016

It was hard to get that sentence into anything, but I have to say my recent experiences with a certain multinational company were a little added inspiration for this piece too!

(You can read about that here, here, here and today’s update here!)

Friday Fiction With Ronovan Writes # 7 – Humour


This Friday, Ronovan gave a challenge to write some humour!
Check it out here.

1) Try to write a humor piece.
2) No word count limit.
3) Pick at least three of the following words to include: dog, cat, toy, fever, ski, fluffy, machete, purple drink

Stag Don’t!

Aw man my head! What was in that stuff we drank last night?

All I remember is a huge glass, well, more like a fishbowl actually, full of this sickly sweet liquid. A purple drink, a totally girly drink, and all the lads chanting “Drink it! Drink it!”

What could I do? I had to finish it, it was a matter of pride.

I gingerly opened an eye and saw the toy dog in the corner of the room…What on earth was that there for? Wrapped around my neck was pink fluffy feather boa, and in my hand was a large plastic machete…

Then I groaned…

Memories slowly cleared from the hangover haze, as I recalled the dare…

Oh God!!!!!

I knew I should never have agreed to allow Dean to get involved in the organisation of my Stag do!

But I Smile Anyway...

Friday Fiction with Ronovan #4- It’s Not Happening

Friday is the day Ronovan allows us to get busy with a flash fiction prompt.  There were no word limits to the previous prompts, but, as Ronovan says this week, the true meaning of flash fiction is to keep it succinct.  Short and sweet.  Trim the fat.

That is always hard for me. I talk too much, hence I also write too much too!

Check out his prompt post here.  Aside from actually making sure we keep to a limit of 500 words, or under, he suggested thinking of an adult situation but from a child’s perspective.

Now for my attempt this week. Any opinions are welcome!

It’s Not Happening

When will it stop?

It doesn’t matter how far under the covers I go, I can still hear them. They think I’m asleep. They think I’m too young to understand.

But I’m not so young that I can’t work things out for myself.

It happens all the time.

The shouting. The slamming of doors. Then the next morning, the frosty glances at each other, but these huge smiles, and eyes brimming with love, looking at us.

They are fighting all the time nowadays, mum and dad. But not in front of us. My younger brother, he really is too little. He hasn’t a clue. But I am not stupid…

This is what happens before…

I don’t want to say it.

But my friend at school, he had parents who fought all the time, and they, well, they aren’t together anymore. He says he’s happy, he gets two of everything nowadays, two birthdays, two Christmas Days, and whenever they are having more disagreements, he gets one off presents too, it’s like they are buying him.

The thing is, when I look at him, really look at him, there is way too much sadness in his 11 year old eyes. I’ve seen him, looking at other friends of ours, with their parents at school functions, and he might think he can hide it, but there is that sense of longing for peace, and happiness in his own parent’s life.

Back to now.

Is this what is happening here? Why are they fighting so much? Are we doing something wrong? Is it me? I didn’t mean to get that detention the other day, but I overslept in the morning, after being awake, listening to them argue, and because I was late, the teacher just slapped me with that yellow note… One hour detention.

Mum was livid when I got home, she didn’t know why I was late, and then she told dad, and later that night, they were at it again…

Or was it when I asked for the new X-Box? I didn’t mean to get stroppy, but when I stomped off, because Dad said no, the murmuring started again. I knew they would be fighting before long.

Maybe I’ll get my homework done faster, do all my reading, before mum says. I’ll tell my brother to tidy up with me, and we can even make them breakfast, or do the hoover.

That’ll show them we love them, and that we aren’t bad. I’ll even say sorry.

As long as it stops the shouting… the fighting… the possibility that….

Thank you for reading!

My interactive peeps!

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