The Enchanted Ferris Wheel: The Story of Amusement at a Delightful Pier

Once there was an Enchanted Ferris Wheel.

It rotated on steel, and you could make it a deal.

It sat by the ocean at the boardwalk pier,

Sparkled in lights and squeaked its gear.

When you got upon its passenger car,

You could ride to the sky and catch a star.

The conductor gave you a ticket for a dime,

And you promised to have a grand ole time.

By the time you landed, you could change,

If you wanted to change, although it felt strange.

Maybe your name, maybe your smile,

Maybe your hair, maybe your style.

Up in the air, you could see the moon,

Little Boy Blue, and his silver spoon.

Your perspective would never be the same,

And the ride would be your claim to fame.

You started out the old version of you,

But then you became everything new.

So, take a trip on the Enchanted Ferris Wheel,

Where all your wishes will soon be real!

Copyright 2016 Jennifer Waters

REMBRANDT synopsis

LOGLINE

A world-famous painter reveals his methods and encourages artists to paint with truth and light and to value each individual with all their strengths and weaknesses.

PITCH

Rembrandt, the preeminent Baroque Dutch painter, meets his students. As an artist, the painter understands the human condition and represents it in his work. Several critiques deemed Rembrandt a prophet of civilization for his genuine art. He painted with common grace for every human. Before Rembrandt leaves, he asks to paint his students’ portraits. He says every life matters and each person’s face is part of a larger design, capturing heaven on Earth.

SYNOPSIS

Dutch painter Rembrandt introduces himself to his students, saying he wants to teach them everything he knows. As an artist, he understands the human condition which puts him in a unique position to represent it in his work. Rembrandt’s portraits are painted with truth and light, never minimizing a person’s strong points or flaws. When Rembrandt paints himself he shows all his bumps, lumps, imperfections, wrinkles, sags, and bags. Not only does Rembrandt show people’s humanness in his portraits, but he also focuses on the eyes of the subject because confronting the viewer in a portrait causes a stronger association with the onlooker.

His self-portraits over time are a visual diary and he picks costumes with flair, comparing his moods and expressions. He also created etchings and drawings. After the financial success in his early years, Rembrandt says he might have been too self-assured. Although many people romanticize his life, he says he suffered heartbreak when he lost his wife and had severe financial trouble in his later years. However, he still painted with common grace for every human.

Rembrandt says historians categorize him in the Golden Age when Baroque style was popular. Along with self-portraits, he tried to make his contemporaries look good in paint. Some of his works include: “Man in the Golden Helmet,” “The Music Party,” “Girl at a Window,” and “Old Man with a Gold Chain.” “The Night Watch” might be his most famous painting. In “The Artist in His Studio” Rembrandt is seen alone, much like how he created. Before Rembrandt leaves, he asks to paint his students’ portraits. He says every life matters, so smile, or have a private thought, but pose for his painting, please. Each person’s image is part of a bigger composition, on Earth as it is in heaven.

Copyright 2022 Jennifer Waters

The Christmas Toy Soldier: Christmas Magic from the Toymaker's Shop

“Merry Christmas! Keeping the peace!” the Friendly Toy Soldier said, as he stood in the doorway of the most famous toy store in New York City, the Toymaker’s Shop. He made sure that the customers in the store behaved and did not fight or quarrel with anyone.

Miles Osborne adjusted his tall black hat as a little girl saluted him. 

“Merry Christmas, soldier!” she said. No one in the store knew his real name, but that was fine. To them, he was the Friendly Toy Soldier.

He lived in a Brooklyn apartment and took the subway to work every day in his red coat with gold buttons and embellishments, blue trousers, white sash, tall black hat, and black boots. He loved his job as a security guard more than anything and was so proud to protect children as they shopped for toys, especially at Christmas.

As the children pulled at his wool coat and toy gun with pellets, he yawned. He kept his real gun inside his jacket in case of emergencies. Thankfully, he never had to use it. Most military soldiers endured hardship in wars and faced battle with gunfire. On the contrary, he spent the day taking pictures with children and handing out candy to customers. Once a week, he presented the winner of the weekly ticket drawing with a free prize, which was usually the newest toy in the store, to make other customers want to buy it.

“Nothing dangerous ever happens here—guess that means I’m doing my job right,” he said. He watched as customers poured in from Fifth Avenue. A large holiday wreath hung on the door with a red ribbon.

Each morning, Miles shook the customers’ hands as they entered through the glass door of the shop. Children didn’t walk through the Toymaker’s Shop—they floated. Eyes wide, mouths open, they whispered in reverent tones like they’d entered a chapel made of dreams. Even grown-ups, for a moment, forgot their to-do lists and acted like five-year-olds again.

The Toymaker’s Shop didn’t just have aisles—it had realms. One wing mimicked a snow-covered forest filled with sleds and snowmen. Enchanted snowflakes drifted from the ceiling and disappeared just before hitting the ground. Another resembled a candy village with shelves made of gingerbread. And somewhere on the third floor, rumor had it a portal opened to the North Pole if you knocked three times on the back wall.

The three-story building had shelves of every kind of toy imaginable—stuffed bears and animals, dolls, dollhouses, model trains, blocks, musical instruments, kitchen play sets, blackboards, jungle gyms, swing sets, kaleidoscopes, tree houses, painting easels, puzzles, board games, picture books, sports equipment, skates, and toy cars. 

It wasn’t just a toy store—Miles knew it was a place of wonder, and he had given his life to protect it. The air smelled of cinnamon gumdrops and peppermint cocoa, with a faint hint of fresh sawdust and magic glue, as if elves had just finished assembling something wonderful.

Lights twinkled not just from Christmas trees, but from inside the toys themselves. When customers listened closely, they could hear the gentle purr of a music box or the clack of wooden horses dancing in the distance. Toy train whistles chimed from distant corners. Some said the building was enchanted, as if Santa himself had dusted the place with magic.

Every now and then, Miles was sure that he saw a stuffed bear blink or a doll giggle—as if the store itself were secretly alive with Christmas spirit. Kaleidoscopes turned on their own accord. A model airplane buzzed past his head, looping gracefully before landing on a velvet runway. 

With advanced technology, some of the toys were quite pricey, not your average mom-and-pop shop, like the real-life fire engine that sat in the store’s entrance, which had a long hose connected to a hydrant in the store. A large yellow school bus stood next to it in the display. They might have seemed too big to be toys, but they were in fact only made for fun. 

“That will be $1,500,” the cashier said to the man in line with his two children. The customer held a mini gas-powered car. “You’re a big spender this Christmas!”

“That’s the Christmas spirit of giving!” the store manager said. 

The manager shook the hand of the father in line with his children. Then, he gave them complimentary stockings full of small gifts stuffed into them.

As he walked over to the Friendly Toy Soldier and stood in front of him, he sighed and shook his head. The Friendly Toy Soldier had a bad feeling down to his toes. 

Despite all the good that Miles did for the store, Mr. Cartwright never really liked him. 

“We’re letting you go,” Mr. Cartwright said to the Soldier. “This is a toy shop. It’s full of kids. No one ever steals anything. You’ve been standing here for years, and I’ve been paying you out of my pocket, and it’s a waste of money. You’ll have two weeks of severance pay, and I’m sure you’ll be able to find another job. Your last night will be Christmas Eve.”

As the Friendly Toy Soldier fought back tears, he found the courage to say, “Yes, sir. I understand. I will miss my job very much.”

Then, Miles looked across the store full of strangers. He had given his life to protect them, and he was not sure they even appreciated it. It was a cold day in the city, and many of the customers would leave with hundreds of dollars of toys. 

Maybe I don’t do much, he thought, as his last days in the store passed by. I’ve never once even shot my gun.

As Miles pondered his current situation, he noticed that a little girl dropped her baby doll as the store door closed behind her. The Soldier ran into the street and stopped traffic to give the girl her doll. In one of her hands, she held a cup of banana nut pudding. Being that it was too much to hold, she must have dropped her new toy doll. 

“Thank you so much,” the girl’s father said. He took the baby doll from Miles and shoved it under his arm while holding other bags filled with Christmas packages. “Oh, and I heard that Christmas Eve will be your last day at the shop. We’ll miss you!”

“I appreciate your kind words, sir,” the Friendly Toy Soldier said. “I’m grateful to have served you for the time I did.”

While the Soldier walked back into the shop, he was unaware of the listening ears that had heard of his departure. Two of the worst hoodlums in the neighborhood happened to be crossing the street at the moment of the conversation.

“Did you hear that, Bubba Joe? The Friendly Toy Soldier at the Toymaker’s Shop got the axe,” said Brother Jim, as he spoke with his hand covering his mouth. He wore a red flannel shirt and a heavy winter jacket with a knit hat.

“We ain’t stealing. We’re just doing a little after-hours shopping spree!” Bubba Joe said with a grin, as if that cleared things up for him and Brother Jim. He scratched his chin and adjusted his collar. His dark jeans had holes in them.

“Too bad that he’s not already fired,” Brother Jim said. “We could really ruin Christmas for a bunch of bratty kids!”

“Well, this way we can ruin Christmas, Easter, and everybody’s birthday for years to come!” Bubba Joe said. “Why don’t we set the place on fire after we rob it to teach everybody a lesson? That would definitely ruin Christmas and shut the place down for good.”

When Christmas Eve arrived, Miles felt sadder than he had let the customers know. It was his last day, and he would have to return his Friendly Toy Soldier outfit. 

“I’m sure I’ll find another job,” Miles said to the families, many of them shaking his hand on the way out the door. “I have a good reference after all the years that I worked here.”

However, the Soldier knew that his chances of finding another job anywhere were slim to none. If he did find another job, it would not give him the respect in the community that working at the Toymaker’s Shop had provided. Even still, he kept his chin up and tried to be thankful for his opportunities in the heart of New York City for the past several years. 

At least I don’t have a wife and children to support, the Soldier thought. He was mostly alone in the world and sacrificed his life for others. 

“This is your Christmas bonus,” Mr. Cartwright said. He handed the Friendly Toy Soldier a golden medal with an envelope. When he opened the envelope, he found a check for $1,000. “I know today is your last day, but I wanted to give you something special. Have a Happy New Year! I know you’ll find a new job.”

“Again, thank you, sir!” the Soldier said. As Mr. Cartwright walked away, he choked up. He almost wanted to leave just then and not wait until the end of the day.

Since I’m the last one in the store, I’m just going to spend the night, he thought to himself. Then, I’ll leave in the morning when no one sees me. At least, I can spend one final night alone in the Toymaker’s Shop and remember the good times.

While the last customers piled out of the shop on Christmas Eve, including Mr. Cartwright, the Friendly Toy Soldier bided his time, as he shuffled toys back to their shelves. Then, he locked the front door behind everyone, sat down in Santa Claus’ armchair, and watched the lights on the store Christmas tree flicker in the darkness. 

While the Friendly Toy Soldier closed his eyes to go to sleep on the armchair, someone threw a rock through the front store window. He stood to his feet, ready to act. 

“Ouch! What in the world?” the Soldier said, as another rock hit his leg. He grabbed his real, loaded gun from beneath his jacket and sounded the store alarm, which would notify the police of a burglary. 

Then, Miles watched as Bubba Joe and Brother Jim jumped through the broken window with giant flaming torches. How could this be happening? He was so glad that he had stayed in the store for the night. Just at the moment that he was about to leave his job, havoc broke out.

“Stop right there!” the Friendly Toy Soldier said. He aimed his loaded gun at the intruders. Since he could not arrest them, he tried to delay them until the police arrived. “I’m here to keep the peace. You’re disturbing it.”

“Are we? Gee! We didn’t know we were disturbing anything,” Bubba Joe said to Brother Jim. Waving his torch, Joe began stuffing his large sacks with loot. He grabbed one toy after the other. Jim did the same and dumped shelves and shelves of toys into his bags. 

“We were just gonna light the place up after we cleaned it out,” Brother Jim said with a sneer. He laughed with a snort that echoed through the shop. The Soldier found him disgusting and wanted him out the place that was sacred to the children of New York City.

“Not on my watch,” said the Soldier. He grabbed the water hose from the toy fire engine in the store’s entrance and doused the torches before Bubba Joe and Brother Jim could burn anything. 

Miles was relieved that he had put out their torches, so they could not burn down the shop. Then, he wrestled the duo to the ground and bought time for the cops to show up.

With that, the New York City Police Department arrived and arrested Bubba Joe and Brother Jim for a memorable Christmas behind bars. A squad of police cars with loud sirens and K9 police dogs lined the streets. Mr. Cartwright bustled into the shop in his robe and pajamas.

“I saw the news,” Mr. Cartwright said to the Soldier. “You saved this place, Miles. I was wrong about you. I’m giving you your job back immediately!”

By morning, Miles, the Friendly Toy Soldier, was the Christmas hero of the nation, the defender of Fifth Avenue in New York City. And so, he kept his job for years to come. 

Each day, Miles stood proudly at the Toymaker’s Shop—guarding the wonder, defending the joy, and keeping the magic of Christmas alive for children and grown-ups alike.

 

Copyright 2016, 2025 Jennifer Waters

Christmas Frost King: A Christmas Folktale from the North Pole

Once upon a time, a beautiful forest loved its king until a brutal wind tried to destroy the trees and animals with its breath. 

“The Polar Forest is so lovely,” the Christmas Frost King said, as his servant stood next to him. “There is nothing grander in all creation!”

He sat on his throne in his Ice Palace on the night before Christmas Eve in the North Pole. Like many times before, the Nasty North Wind came to ridicule him with insults. The North Wind blew out every candle that night, even the ones meant to shine for Christmas.

Despite the threats of the Wind, the Frost King had always protected and defended the forest and its animals in the winter months. Some people knew him as Father Christmas because he brought gifts and candies to people all over the world during the winter holiday celebrations. 

“Your forest is not that special,” the Nasty North Wind said to the Christmas Frost King. He blew through his throne room with a gust. He blasted the Christmas Frost King’s Ice Palace so hard that many in the King’s household thought it would soon topple.

“The trees of the Polar Forest love me, and they also love my animals,” the Christmas Frost King declared. Then, he waved his ice scepter, the magical staff made of ice that gave him authority over the forest. “I know the trees love me.”

“I know you believe that your forest is good, but none of your trees are pure in heart,” the North Wind cackled. “Nothing is truly loved. I once protected ice flowers, snowflakes, and frost art—the most delicate and beautiful things of winter. Each year, by spring, they would melt and nothing came from my efforts.” 

“You are full of lies!” the Frost King argued. “You stir up strife everywhere you go!”

“Not so much! I could destroy your forest with one breath,” the Nasty North Wind taunted. “Let me test the Forest to see if it is full of love and compassion!”

“Test the Forest?” the Christmas Frost King bellowed. “Why does my Forest need to pass a test?”

“Why would you want to protect a forest full of trees that do not love you?” the Nasty North Wind said. Then, he roared through the throne room with a flurry.

“Fine, you may test the trees of the Polar Forest to see if they are full of love,” the Frost King said. He had so much pride in his forest that he could not imagine that it would betray him.

“None of the trees will care about the animals of the forest,” the Nasty North Wind ridiculed the King. “They will forget that they ever loved and served you!”

“You have my permission to test the trees, but not to kill them, and only for the winter season,” the King said. “There must be limits to your test!”

“Fine, I will abide by your limits,” the Nasty North Wind agreed. “Limits, limits!”

“Mock me if you must,” the Frost King said, “but the Spruce, Pine, and Little Juniper will stand tall. Be gone—and return only when the test is complete.” 

The Christmas Frost King slammed his ice scepter against the palace wall and sent rays of light into the North Wind, which caused him to shrink.

“We shall see if you are right,” the Nasty North Wind roared. “And we shall see who is full of love.”

“When you are wrong, you will be banished to the South Pole,” the Frost King said. “I will not be mocked. My forest will prove full of love. Now leave me.”

The Christmas Frost King spent a sleepless night worried that the Forest would not forgive him for the suffering it was about to endure. However, he knew if the trees proved true, the North Wind would be silenced once and for all.

In the upcoming days, the Nasty North Wind set out through the Polar Forest and sent the worst storms in years. The sleet was like knives, and the rain was like pellets. The snow rose in blinding white walls that no one could see past, and the ice was so hard that it would never crack. Branches froze and snapped like twigs. Hollows filled with snow and ice. 

Of course, animals like the Gray Wolf and the Brown Grizzly Bear were able to hide in the mountains and caves. However, a creature like the Littlest of Little Birds could not even fly fast enough to escape the wind to shelter. 

“This is how I will win this battle against the Christmas Frost King,” the Nasty North Wind snapped through the air. “No one will even care what happens to the Littlest of Little Birds,” the Wind said, as he trapped the Bird in a downward spiral.  

When Christmas Frost King saw the Nasty North Wind attacking the Little Bird, he felt great sorrow in his heart and doubted his decision to let the Polar Forest face such a great test. Had his pride doomed the ones he most wished to protect? 

 

At first, the Birch Tree caught the Littlest of Little Birds in his arms and hid the Bird for a few hours, until the Nasty North Wind laid bare its branches of leaves. With the Wind biting at the branches that held the Little Bird, the Birch Tree let the Bird go back into the winter storm. 

“I’m sorry, Little Bird. I’m so fragile,” the Birch Tree whispered. “I’m just not strong enough. I’ll snap!”

Within minutes, the Oak Tree took the Little Bird into his arms, but the Nasty North Wind plucked its branches of leaves. It tormented the strongest tree in the forest until its pride released the Littlest of Little Birds back into the freezing storm. 

“I cannot be seen in such disgrace,” the Oak Tree declared. “Go now, Little Bird. I must protect my own reputation.”

By this point, the abandoned Little Bird was closer and closer to death. 

“Everyone is against me, but I will survive!” the Bird cried. “One of these trees will help me!”

Then, the Willow Tree, which was known to weep openly, grabbed the Bird and hid her. Its long branches curled like arms. The weeping Willow cried with the Bird until her limbs froze stiff with ice. The tree was unable to move, only feel. 

The Nasty Wind blasted its branches so hard that it could not keep the Bird in its shelter any longer. It ushered the Bird back into the forest with tears.

“My sorrow is too great. I’m so anxious,” the Willow Tree said. “Please forgive me.”

In the distance, the Aspen Tree gave in to peer pressure and decided to follow the crowd. 

“None of the other trees helped you,” the Aspen said. “Why should I?”

The Maple Tree justified his selfishness through logic and reason. 

“It’s no use,” the Maple Tree said. “You’re already too weak.” 

“I want a world with love,” the Littlest Bird whispered. “I’m willing to love . . .”

She quietly sang a forgotten carol to herself: “In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan. Earth stood hard as iron. Water like a stone. Snow had fallen. Snow on snow, snow on snow. In the bleak midwinter, long, long ago.” 

 

“Where are these grand trees that you mentioned, Christmas Frost King?” the North Wind called. The Little Bird had lost most of its feathers by now, had a hard time flying, and could no longer sing with its sore throat.

“You are shallow and empty!” the Christmas Frost King answered. “Brace yourself because the time is coming when I will question you, and you shall answer me.”

As the North Wind travelled through the forest, it blew so hard that it picked up the Little Bird, and she bounced right to the Spruce Tree, Pine Tree, and Little Juniper Tree. 

“I offer my thick branches to protect you, Little Bird,” the Spruce Tree said. He opened his arms to the Little Bird. 

“I will give my life for the smallest animal in the forest,” the Pine Tree vowed, as he stood between the Bird and the Wind.

“My needles will be your nest, and my berries your food, even if I am small,” the Little Juniper Tree proclaimed to the Bird. 

Although the Nasty North Wind blasted gales and gusts, which were deathly, the Christmas Frost King watched the Polar Forest stand tall. He felt vindicated for allowing the Nasty North Wind to test his forest in the first place. 

When the Three Evergreen Trees—the Spruce Tree, the Pine Tree, and the Little Juniper Tree, who are green in every season—defended the Little Bird, it caused all the other evergreen trees of the Polar Forest to do the same. In fact, the Polar Forest then defended every large and small animal throughout the wintertime storms. 

The harder the Wind blew against the Evergreens, the more resolute the trees became to defeat him, even when he plucked their needles. 

 

As the weeks passed, the Christmas Frost King was relieved for his forest when the snow started to melt. Flowers popped through the soil. When the temperature rose, the frost became less severe. Skunk cabbages began to bloom, and butterflies fluttered. Even the wood frogs began quacking. The Nasty North Wind’s test was finally finished. 

“I lived to see the springtime,” the Little Bird cheered. No longer suffering from a sore throat, she sang a song in the sunshine. “I can sing again! Sing a love song!”

Meanwhile, the Nasty North Wind returned to the Christmas Frost King in bitter defeat, and the Frost King felt triumphant and victorious for his faith in the Polar Forest. 

“Now I will question you: Who do you think you are to challenge my authority?” the Christmas Frost King announced. He stood to his feet with power, never prouder of his forest. “For the rest of your days, you will not touch any spruce, pine, or little juniper trees on Earth. You will never again pluck needles from my evergreens!”

“I cannot believe that the Polar Forest passed the test,” the Nasty North Wind moaned.

“I banish you to the South Pole, except for the winter season,” he declared. “Each fall when the season turns to winter, you may visit the Northern Hemisphere, but only for three months with peaceful winds. You will also never attack my palace again. Be gone! Never return to me, arrogant tempest! I hope you get tired of freezing the world and bring warmth instead.”

“I bow to your greatness, Christmas Frost King,” the Nasty North Wind said. He departed for the South Pole. His once large uproar was a small breeze.

The Frost King hoped the Nasty North Wind was ashamed and embarrassed of his behavior. In celebration, he felt like throwing a springtime festival. 

“Find me the Littlest of Little Birds,” the Christmas Frost King charged his servant. “I need her song in my court.”

Just before the Little Bird was about to fly away into the spring sky, the servant found the Bird resting in the Spruce Tree.

“Your presence is requested by the Christmas Frost King,” the servant explained, as he gathered the Little Bird into his arms.

“Thank you, my lord,” the Littlest of Little Birds said. All the way to the palace, she sang beautiful melodies that sounded like they should be performed by an orchestra. 

“I will place a star in the sky to honor your bravery,” said the Christmas Frost King, in hopes that it would help heal her. “And I need you to perform a spring concert for my forest.”

“Sir, it would be an honor to sing for you and the forest,” she chirped with joy.

For the rest of her days, the Little Bird sang in the court of the Christmas Frost King, winter, spring, summer, and fall with bright candles lit year-round.

“Your song has healed the forest,” said the Christmas Frost King. 

“And my heart,” said the Littlest Bird. “I will sing until I can sing no more.”

And so, in the Polar Forest of the Christmas Frost King, love endured—not wrapped in ribbons and placed under trees, but given freely, even when the world forgets. 

 

Copyright 2016, 2025 Jennifer Waters

Holiday Gingerbread House: A Christmas Folktale from Germany

“Time for bed, Nicola,” her mother called from the top of the stairs, strung with a twinkling garland. “The Christkind will be here soon.”

“Mom, I can’t go to bed now. I need to finish my gingerbread house before I go to sleep,” 12-year-old Nicola Claire said. She had been constructing the gingerbread house for hours, one piece at a time. It had to be ready for the Christkind’s arrival in only a few hours on Christmas Eve. 

“Why do you always spoil my fun?” Nicola asked her mother. “I want the Christkind to see my hard work when she comes tonight. Such a pretty blond angel with wings!”

“Honey, you need to go to sleep for the big day tomorrow!” her mother said. “Now, run along! You did enough work on the gingerbread house for now.”

“Fine, ruin my whole Christmas by making me go to sleep before I’m finished,” Nicola said. “I wish I could just shrink and go live in the gingerbread house by myself.”

“Merry Christmas!” her mother called. “I know you don’t mean what you just said.”

Nicola never felt like her mother understood her. She always tried to be good enough, but it never seemed to be what her mother wanted. Her father had divorced her mother a few years ago, and sometimes, Nicola felt like she was invisible. 

She ran into her bedroom, crawled under the covers, and waited a few minutes until she snuck back into the kitchen to finish the gingerbread house. Her mother could thank her later.

The set included pre-baked gingerbread and icing to make a two-story home. After all, she lived in Nuremberg, Germany, “the Gingerbread Capital of the World.” Also included in the kit were gingerbread men, shredded coconut, colorful beads, jelly hearts, mini jellies, spearmint leaves, candy canes, pinwheels, sugar wreaths, chocolate pretzels, gum balls, rock candy, peppermints, marshmallows, glazed nuts, chocolate bars, and spice drops.

She glued the gingerbread pieces together with the icing and placed candy pieces artistically on the house as a creative masterpiece. As soon as she finished the house, she planned to crawl back in bed, and her mother would never know that she spent a few more hours in the kitchen finishing her project. After all, she was rather sleepy from a hard week at school. 

“I’d really like to live in there,” Nicola said with a yawn. “I wouldn’t have half the problems that I have with Mom and Dad if I had my own home.” 

She rested her head on the table for just a second, but the Christmas spirit must have pulled her into a dream before she knew it. In her dream, her stature shrank, and she was as small as the gingerbread men in the kit. 

“Curious!” she said. “My own little world! I always imagined what this would be like.”

She wandered through the rooms of the gingerbread home and enjoyed the sweet-smelling house. As she made her way to the living room with a peppermint fireplace, she stumbled upon a candy cane couch with matching chairs. She turned around to find a gingerbread man hanging a sugary wreath over the mantle. Large gumdrops served as side tables. 

“My name is Cinnamon,” the cookie said. He had a white icing body, red candy bow, and jelly heart eyes. “Welcome to the Holiday Gingerbread House. I hope you will be able to find your way home by Christmas morning.”

“I’m not even sure how I got here in the first place,” Nicola said. “How do you expect me to find my way home? Where I live with Mom is rather lonely. I miss Dad.”

She sat down on the chocolate bar floor and shed hot tears, which melted part of it. She looked around to find herself completely alone. At first, she thought being completely alone would make everything better, but not really. In some ways, it only made it worse. 

“I never thought I would miss my mom so much,” she said. “Now, I miss Dad and Mom, even if she is annoying.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Cinnamon whispered. “If you eat the Holiday Gingerbread House, it won’t exist, and you’re sure to be home.”

“Eat it? The whole thing?” Nicola asked. “How am I going to be able to fit this entire house in my stomach? It will hurt! I’ll have to take it a piece at a time.”

“With each piece, you will become bigger, and the house will become smaller and fit in your stomach,” he said. He placed a jug of milk on the table. Of course, Nicola would not be able to eat the Gingerbread House without milk. She really wanted to go home. So, she was willing to eat whatever she needed to eat. 

“Take small bites,” Cinnamon said. “Enjoy the treat! And make sure you eat the house before any of the cats in the neighborhood find you. They would surely eat you and the house!”

“Cats? Oh, no!” Nicola said. “I must eat the house and return home. What was I thinking when I wanted to live in it by myself?”

So, Nicola set about eating the Holiday Gingerbread House one piece at a time—the roof, the chimney, the floor, the door, the windows, and the front porch. As she ate the home, she grew in stature and got bigger. When she looked at the house, it became smaller to her, little by little. 

Although her stomach ached a bit, she mostly enjoyed the sugary home. She ate it like a big birthday cake. Once her mom made her an ice cream cake that was a train with extra icing. She loved every bit of it and wished she could eat like that each day. She knew her mother loved her, even if she had divorced her dad. All her parents did was fight anyhow, so it was better for them to live separate lives. It was just so disappointing when the holidays came. 

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the cats as they prowled around her. They must have snuck into the house from the outside. The four-legged critters circled her and the house. She tried to hide, but it was impossible. She knew that they could most certainly smell her little-girl scent no matter where she went. So, she hurried to eat every last crumb of gingerbread, icing, and sugar. She just wanted to go home to her mom in time for Christmas.

“Mom! Dad! Help! The cats are going to get me,” Nicola said. “Where are you?”

The tricolored calico cats pounced right next to her and thankfully tried to eat the house instead of her. Their evil green eyes glowed, and their pupils dilated.

“Go away!” she said. “Shoo! My mom is waiting for me.” 

The cats hissed at Nicola and spit on the ground. They scratched their claws into the gingerbread and bit the candy. She did not understand why they wanted to destroy the house.

“Leave me alone!” Nicola yelled at the felines. Several of them stretched their bodies and growled at her. They flattened their ears and tucked their tails between their legs. 

As she quickly gobbled up the rest of the Gingerbread House, she grew several increments. Her stomach had never felt so full. As she grew taller, the cats shrunk, and their threat became less. They eventually darted off into the distance. 

By the time she grew back into her real-life stature, Cinnamon was very tiny, and she picked him up to look at him. She wondered what she should do with him. 

“Should I eat you, too?” Nicola asked. “I can’t possibly eat you! You’re my friend. I should be able to make it home without eating you.”

“Oh, my, I’m a gingerbread man,” Cinnamon said. “I was made to be eaten by a lovely girl like you!”

“Yes, but I would never want to hurt you,” she said. “You’re the one who helped me eat my way out of this mess. I would have never thought of eating the Holiday Gingerbread House as a way of returning home.”

“It’s what I was made for! I’d rather you eat me than anybody else,” Cinnamon said. “Merry Christmas!”

“Well, if you insist,” Nicola said. Then, she ate her gingerbread friend whole. She took a big drink of milk afterwards. He was even tastier than the house. 

She awoke back at her kitchen table in her family’s home on Christmas Eve, far past midnight. Standing beside her was the Christkind, admiring the half-finished Holiday Gingerbread House that Nicola built before dozing off into a dream-like state. Her mother was nowhere to be found. She wished she had finished the house before the Christkind arrived.

“Merry Christmas! This is Cinnamon,” the Christkind said to Nicola. She was dressed in a gold and white flowing robe with a sparking crown. Her golden locks bounced on her fairy-like shoulders. “What a wonderful Holiday Gingerbread House that you’re making!” 

Then, the Christkind handed her a stuffed gingerbread man as a Christmas gift. Although he was not a cookie, he was better. He would be her forever toy. She could hold him every night as she fell asleep. Then, she was not as much alone. 

“I already love him,” she said. She held him at her chest and kissed him. “Thank you so much! Merry Christmas!”

“Isn’t it great to be together at Christmas with the ones we love?” the angel fairy said.

Then, the Christkind unloaded a pile of presents from her golden sack under Nicola’s Christmas tree. The angel-like creature also filled the stockings for her and her mom that hung over her fireplace. After she enjoyed her own piece of gingerbread, the Christkind disappeared.

“Until next year, my dear,” the Christkind said, as she vanished. “Christmas blessings!”

“Merry Christmas!” Nicola called to her blond-haired friend with wings. Most children never got a chance to meet the Christkind. Nicola had only heard about her from her parents. She imagined that her angel friend appeared to her as an extra Christmas gift. 

So, Nicola spent the next few hours finishing the Holiday Gingerbread House. She wanted to surprise her mother. It was hard to keep her eyes open, but she was determined not to fall asleep again. The Christkind had given her extra inspiration. 

After completing the home, Nicola hurried back to bed and pulled up the covers. Not too long after she returned to bed, her mother rushed into her room and gave her a big hug.

“Merry Christmas!” her mother said. “Time to unwrap presents!”

“I have a special present for you!” Nicola said. She hoped her mom would not be angry that she stayed up too late. 

“Wow, it’s finished!” her mother said. She stared at the Holiday Gingerbread House on the kitchen table. “You snuck out here while I was sleeping! Oh my, well, it’s Christmas! I love the gingerbread house.”

“I knew you would love it!” Nicola said. “Now, we can eat it together!”

After unwrapping presents under the Christmas tree, Nicola and her mother ate the Holiday Gingerbread House for breakfast. Cinnamon, her new best friend, sat on her lap. 

“I’m so glad you got some rest last night. Some is better than none,” her mother said. “Dad wants you to come over to his house for dinner. So, I’ll drop you off later. I knew you would need some sleep.”

“Last night, I shrunk so small that I could walk through the Holiday Gingerbread House in my dream,” Nicola said. “But I missed you too much, so I had to come back to real life.”

“Oh, honey,” her mother said. “Merry Christmas! I love you.”

“I love you, too!” Nicola said. “I wish you and Dad were still together, but at least I’m not alone. I really don’t like being alone, especially at Christmas.”

“I understand, Nicola,” her mother said. “Your Holiday Gingerbread House is so tasty. You put so much work into it.”

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. As a gift, I got you after-school cooking classes, so you can learn to make all types of cookies and cakes,” her mother said. “I knew you’d have fun!”

            “Oh, wow!” Nicola said. “Then, I can bake sweet treats for you and Dad.”

            “And I have one more surprise!” her mother said with a twinkle in her eye. She walked into her bedroom and brought out a small cage with a calico cat. 

            “I love him!” Nicola said, as she ran to the cage with excitement. She could hardly believe her eyes. 

“A little something soft and sweet,” her mother said. “I’ve been saving the best gift for last! When I saw him at the pet store, I knew he was meant for you!”

            Unlike the cats in her dream, this kitty meowed and purred. He looked like a kind creature that wouldn’t even know how to growl.

            “White, orange, and black patches. I’ll call him Patches,” Nicola said. She threw open the cage door. She hugged him so tight to her chest. He licked her face. “He’s the best Christmas gift ever!”

It was by far the sweetest Christmas that Nicola ever had. She held Patches and Cinnamon close. She knew that she was loved even if she felt invisible at times. Although she had wished to live in the Holiday Gingerbread House, it had helped her find her way back home. A Christmas made of sugar, spice, and a little magic, too!

 

Copyright 2016, 2025 Jennifer Waters