Monday Motivations

After a wonderful weekend in London seeing the Christmas lights and stunning landmarks, it’s back to reality with a bang. I hope you all enjoyed your weekend. Here’s a challenge to help you back into work mode:

Write a story or poem on the theme Christmas Eve

Last week’s challenge was to write a story or poem on the theme flashback. You crated some beautiful pieces:

Steve Walsky sent in a really lovely poem. Please visit his site to read it:

Simon Farnell sent in a thought-provoking piece. You can read it on his site:

Geoff Le Pard sent in a tear jerker. You can read it via the link below:

And now for the infamous Rajiv Chopra and another slice of story in the Mary Jane series:

Mary Jane opened her eyes, and all she could see in the dark was a pair of glowing eyes. She almost screamed, and then managed to suppress her voice.

‘Who are you?’ she asked in a whisper. Harley Quinn was sleeping by her side.

‘Ah, you have forgotten me,’ said a voice full of malice and spite.

‘Frodo?’ she asked, a bit hesitatingly.

‘Yes, it is me, Frodo. You seemed to have forgotten me, or how much you liked me. Ah yes. Now you are my prisoner. I will make you pay for your forgetfulness.’

His voice thrilled with malice, and he raised a knife to his lips. He held a candle with the other hand, and the light danced up and down on the blade. The blade seemed to smell blood, and the light danced to the smell and anticipation of blood being spilled.

Mary Jane shrank back, and seemed to cringe. She closed her eyes, expecting to feel sharp steel on her skin at any moment. Her blood seemed to congeal inside her, and the pain seemed to reach her nerve endings.

‘Please, Frodo,’ she whispered, eyes shut tight. ‘Just think of the good times we had. We sang, drank and danced together. I did not betray you. I just ran from Spidey, and then I met Harley. Can you blame me for accidentally falling in love with her? You were always my chosen one, my precious.’

She opened her eyes slightly, and peered into his face half hidden in shadow. The flickering light lit up the shadows in his eyes. He looked at her and closed his eyes. He seemed to be thinking, dreaming of something.

Images of the past flashed in his brain; the memories of the two of them sitting and drinking coffee, smoking a pipe, and singing. He remembered that she was the only one who did not laugh when he spoke of The Dark Lord, and of the days of dragons and Elves.
He reeled back, eyes closed, as memories of the happier times with Mary Jane flashed into his brain. After a while, he sat up and looked at her, chest heaving with emotion.

‘My precious,’ he repeated. The memory of the time when she had first said that flashed into his brain, and for a moment he was transported to that evening not so long ago, when they sat by the riverside, watching the sun go down. ‘My precious,’ she had said then, and she had said it again now.

Quick,’ he muttered, almost like a madman. ‘Let’s go.’

Untying her knots, he pushed her up to a standing position. ‘Wait,’ she whispered. ‘We must take Harley with us.’

Must we?’ he asked, almost in anger.

Yes, my precious, we must.’

Quickly freeing Harley, they got up to leave. Crawling slowly, Frodo opened the door, and they crawled outside.

Stillness permeated the night, and they crawled in the dark. Freedom beckoned them, one step at a time. Finally, they reached a window to the road, and the cold blast of the night greeted them with a refreshing newness.

A thud, and a body fell to the floor. A hand grasped Mary Jane’s ankle, as she was slowly climbing out of the window.

No…’said a voice filled with anger, hate and malice. ‘My preciousssss…she cannot leave…Frodo wanted her all for himself did he? No…Precioussss is mine…Mine… Mine…’

A sudden memory lit up Mary Jane’s brain, and she was transported back to a night in her old home, when she was woken up by a voice saying, ‘Preciousssss, Preciousss, Precioussss.’ How could she have been so blind, so as not to have noticed that first sign of Sam’s descent into madness. The desire for freedom, and a strong distaste for Sam filled her suddenly, and she kicked with all her might.

A scream resounded in the night, and Sam’s bloody face, and his screaming voice was the last image that she took with her, as she and Harley made their crazed dash back to freedom.



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31 Responses to Monday Motivations

  1. DrEMiller says:

    Reblogged this on Write of Passage and commented:
    Today’s Monday Motivations from Esther Newton is Christmas Eve. Just in time to get into the holiday spirit!
    Thank you, Esther!

  2. EDC Writing says:

    The quote … so relatable!

  3. Rajiv says:

    Christmas Eve? Seriously?

  4. I love that quote about mistakes. sadly I think I’ve used that strategy for years !

  5. Sarah says:

    I was working on a poem with theme of Christmas but now I have reread it I have to go back to the drawing board as it’s Christmas Eve! Oh well.

  6. Rajiv says:

    Her you are!!

    A month passed, and the girls were nowhere to be found. Frodo was now the prisoner, and Spidey had had him bound in a tight web. Sam would come by everyday, smirk, and spit in his face.
    “You thought you were so clever, do you?”, he would say, while gloating. “You will never get her. Neither will that damned, stupid, arrogant, Spider-Man. She is mine, mine, mine. All mine, my Precious….” His face would cloud over, and then he would simply laugh and walk away. He did not realize that he was becoming more and more like one poor creature who had perished many, many ages back. He was only aware of his hate for Frodo. All the pent-up resentment of the past came back, along with memories of how he had carried Frodo up the mountain, and received scant recognition for it. Why? He had played an equally important part in that tale. Is it because he was just a gardener? “Pah! We shall see about that now, won’ts we?”, he would mutter to himself.
    The days passed, became shorter, and the wind colder. Winter was well set, and the snow would fall on the grass, making the green sparkle in the cold mornings. The three men had no time or interest in watching the grass grow. All that they were conscious of, was their rage, and the cold. They were staying in a cold house, with no heating. They could not afford anything better. The cracks in the windows would let in the cold, whistling wind, and they would sit there, rubbing their hands together to keep warm.
    “If this carries on, my webs will crack”, grumbled Spider-Man. “We have to find those damned women, and put them in their place. What do you say, Joker?”
    The Joker sat there and shivered. His white face paint seemed to crack in the cold. He was a very far from the same criminal that had so terrorized the city, and he was beginning to wonder when his luck would turn.
    Maybe, the New Year would bring about some luck. They were so close to it anyway.
    They sat there shivering in the cold, and the city seemed to be celebrating. They could hear celebrations, and then they heard some passing walkers singing carols.
    “Damn these morons”, said The Joker. His tongue flicked in and out of his mouth, as his eyes moved shiftily from one side to the next.
    “Yeah”, agreed Spider. “They don’t know that all this is a waste of time”.
    Sam interjected. “Shall we go out and get some hot toddy?”
    “Where’s the money?”, asked Spider-Man.
    “That’s what these morons are for, aren’t they?”, asked Sam with a sly look on his face.
    The light flickered on and off. There seemed to be a crackle in the air, and there was a loud clap of thunder.
    Darkness enveloped them, and they got up, cursing.
    “Someone’s here”, said Spider. “Let’s move out quickly.”
    “What, your Spidey senses suddenly woke up?”, sneered The Joker.
    “Yes”, hissed Spider-Man, “And, if you don’t shut up, there will be hell to pay”.
    A greenish mist seemed to fill the room. Despite the dark, they could just about make out a fluorescent green mist filling the air. Acrid, burning mist, and they coughed and spluttered.
    Falling to their knees, they were losing consciousness fast.
    A deep, hated voice spoke to them through the fog that was rapidly filling their brains.
    “It’s Christmas Eve, my friends. I could not let you celebrate alone, now could I”
    “Damn you, Batman”, said The Joker. “I will get you for this.”
    A woman’s voice laughed.
    “Merry Christmas”, she said.

  7. EDC Writing says:

    Just posted this … I believe do you?

    “He wasn’t there, at least I don’t think so a moment ago?” she half thought, half spoke. “Who?” little sister said, answering her own question looking from the ‘pay here’ queue to see what kind of man had got big sister’s attention.

    He was there alright, in every sense, lean, just under six foot, curly close cut hair, caressing silk, eyes dancing over candy stripes, somehow not quite him. Little sister does a double take, big sister now walking over to him.

    His fingers caress each tie in turn. “A female perspective?” she enquires. “Yours always” his reply. She takes a subtle blue design, almost on tiptoes leans in to place around his neck. A faint stir, foot to foot his balance shifts, hands unbutton her coat free, both sway, gap between as nothing, little sister’s eyes popping.

    The music, no one remembered what or if any, only movement, theirs, timeless, of another world, classic ballroom made sensual, borderline erotic. This world stood still, time gave time for free.

    Arm’s length now, tie her hands to his, he bows, escorts her to the line where all completely mesmerised. Little sister’s mouth wide open, seeing yet not believing, big sister dancing in that way, with him.

    “Who is he” she at last gasps … “No idea” big sister smiles … “he comes to me this time every year” … they turn around, blue tie as his eyes nowhere to be seen, present given … and received.

  8. Jason Moody says:

    Christmas Eve

    7:37am – I had a really funny dream last night. I was on the moon being chased by three-legged, multi-coloured aliens. I must stop binge-eating Wotsits before bed.
    8:02am – Mum’s in the kitchen dancing, rather badly, with Dad, Fran’s sat at the table, glued to her phone. She hasn’t touched her bowl of cereal, and its Sugar Puffs!
    8:04am – Fran’s in a mood. I think she might have had an argument with Mark. I say good morning, but she just grunts. She sits and types at great speed. There’s a constant beeping on her phone. It’s well annoying.
    8:48am – Mum has spent the last fifteen minutes trying to calm Fran down. I think Mark dumped her by text. He won’t answer her calls. I always thought Mark was a knob anyway.
    9:37am – Washed and dressed. I’ve gone for red today. I’m also wearing my Rudolph jumper, complete with bells. I know fashion.
    10:02am – Dad’s taking Fran into town. I wish I was, but I can’t. I ask him where he’s going. ‘Wait and see,’ he says. That gets me a little excited.
    10:57am – Mum’s funny when’s she trying to park. She’s even funnier when she can’t do it.
    11:14am – Doctor Marriard has had a haircut.
    11: 15am – I hate chemotherapy.
    6:12PM – I’m a bit groggy. Fran is on the sofa – surprise, surprise – on her phone. Mum and Dad are in the kitchen.
    6:14pm – Mum fusses me and says that we’re ordering pizza in tonight. For the first time all day, Fran cracks a smile. What could be better? I’ll tell you, Auntie Sharon’s on her way too! She always stays Christmas Eve.
    8:06pm – We’re all stuffed. Auntie Sharon and Mum are giggling in the kitchen. I’m feeling a little tired, the Christmas tree lights are blurry and twinkly at the same time. I imagine the next time I open my eyes, it’ll be Christmas.

  9. Sarah says:

    Christmas Eve Acrostic Poem:

    Christmas is the time of year, to bring to men all good cheer.

    Humour makes the heart feel glad, Christmas carols are sung so don’t be sad.

    Reindeers eat their magic feed, to help out Santa as he has need.

    Indulgence lingers everywhere, hidden in mince pies, chocolates and eclairs.

    Santa has his sleigh all readily, so he can deliver presents speedily.

    Tree is decorated, tall and fine, to warm the hearts of the family that dine.

    Mistletoe hung above the front door, Christmas kisses for all who call.

    After dinner, the story is read, ’twas the night before Christmas,’ then off to bed.

    Sleep is difficult on Christmas eve, but soon it comes and brings sweet dreams.

    Early in the morning, the whole household awake, opening bundles of presents with a shiver and a shake.

    Very cold this Christmas day, snuggle down by the fire and play.

    Early evening – time for Christmas TV, laughing and joking, oh what glee.


  10. Jason Moody says:

    What a feel-good poem!

  11. Pingback: Monday Motivations – Mechanoid Christmas | Planet Simon

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