Titch

by Sheila Crosby

Titch walked up and down the washing line twice. He looked on the ground below and in the bushes behind it. Nothing.

He muttered, "There must be a one-legged thief around here. That's the third sock vanished this week."

He stomped off to his bedroom and put on odd socks. He hoped Auntie would send him some new ones for Christmas.

Jack put the angel on top of the tree. "Time to hang the stocking up for Santa, kids," he called. "They'll be dry by now." And he brought in three gigantic stockings from the enormous beanstalk in the garden.

Published in Farthing, December 2006

 

 

This story is a part of the Spec the Halls contest for speculative winter holiday-themed fiction, artwork, and poetry. You may find guidelines and links to other entries at http://www.aswiebe.com/specthehalls.html