With Christmas fast approaching, I thought why not ease you all into the spirit of the holiday with ten chapters from my novel, KRINGLE. Yes! Ten free chapters for you to enjoy running Monday through Thursday until November 16th. Hope you enjoy!
To catch up on the story I’ve added the Links to the end of this post.
I’d had a restless night with dreams of dying reindeer, divorcing parents and surly Santa’s, so to savor my unexpected work break I walked to the coffeehouse to enjoy Polartown’s streets and homes decorated like Victorian Christmas cards. Quaint boutiques, gaslight lamps and horse-drawn sleighs rimmed St. Nicholas Square, alight with trillions of twinkle lights. The seventy-five foot Colorado spruce, however, remained dark in preparation of the tree lighting ceremony on Christmas Eve. Pausing beside two street vendors to appreciate the aromas of roasting chestnuts and grilled brats permeating the air, I smiled at the brat vendor, but he scowled and pointed to where ketchup and sweet pickles were slashed from his condiments sign. My Sugar Ban.
Now aware of every glare, bump, rude gesture and comment, I felt especially bad when a children’s street choir, singing “Away in the Manager,” stuck out their tongues as I passed.
In the Square, Flurry Michaels spoke to WGRM’s camera. “There’s something scary-bad going on with Polartown.” I paused with a dozen others. “Our normal high this time of year is minus fifteen. Currently, Polartown registers—” Her expression twisted with fright. “Minus nine!”
The crowd wheezed. I rolled my eyes. Flurry has a severe weather phobia. Ice storms, tornadoes, thunder, lightning—rain—triggers her alarm.
As I approached the Café PolarCap’s twelve-foot-high red doors, the empty showcase window, habitually filled with a scenic wonderland of baked goods, attested to the seriousness of my Sugar Ban. I joined the long line, typical for the PolarCap. Hearty PolarTownies don’t mind queuing up for twenty minutes in the cold. Sometimes it takes that long to decide what to order. However, without jeweled tarts, Artisan pastries and brownie towers iced with Dutch chocolate to occupy my attention, within minutes I fought impatience. I would also have to be deaf not to hear the comments:
“For breakfast I craved oatmeal with brown sugar before I remembered I’d die if I ate a bowl. Plus, I’d be executed for eating sugar.” Read More