December Prompts Novels & Stories

I could still feel it under my skin—like a signature, like a promise, like the moment a match thinks about being struck and decides it wants to be fire. “Paper,” I said softly, the word leaving a temporary fog on the window. “Promises.” And because I refused, on principle, to be the first to look away, I stood and let the city look back until dawn found us both.

“Get on with your job, Hailey, so we can go home.” Xander turns his head away and pretends to busy himself by checking the stage. While he was busy trying to figure out what to do with the design, I took it upon myself to search the internet for some inspiration. Since the prom is going to be held in the winter, Leo uses Winter Wonderland for the theme. “Hey, Xander. Check on this.” I tap on his shoulder and show him the screen of my phone. “Why don’t we use this one as inspiration? Wilting white tree stumps topped with fake snow should be a good contrast with the darker background.”

"He doesn't know how to come in yet, but he's — he's circling." "Yeah." "That's something." "Yeah." Nelson looked out the window at the grey December sky. "It's something." He cleared the plates. She washed them — without being asked, just stood up and went to the sink like it was already, like they'd already learned the small choreography of sharing a kitchen. He stood beside her and dried. Outside, the snow had stopped falling. The street was white and quiet. The community centre murals were half-hidden under frost — those painted hands reaching for stars, temporarily obscured, still reaching.

I asked as I curled up in James’s lap “Not putting up Christmas decorations till after the 1st of December” “Ok guys we have prom before Christmas”

It's a special moment, and they all feel a sense of connection and belonging. It's December, and Samantha and Andrew are getting ready for the holidays. They are hosting a Christmas party at their home, and they are excited to see all of their family and friends. They decorate the house with lights and ornaments, and they bake cookies and make hot chocolate. On Christmas Eve, they sit around the fireplace and read stories to their grandchildren. They feel a deep sense of joy and gratitude, knowing that they have everything they could ever want.

Keeping silent for a second, Aneliss finally asks me, "Have you thought about what you're going to buy yet?" "Buy? Do you want a souvenir from Paris or something?" I ask somewhat confused. "Dominik, don't tell me you forgot..." "What thing did I forget?" After a long sigh, Aneliss asks me, "What special occasion is in December?" Her question makes me feel somewhat strange, as, amidst the alcohol and exhaustion, I think in the back of my mind if I can slightly recall an important event, though I'm not sure what. So as an obvious conclusion, I thought of the most common holiday around this month.

December comes with the specific intention of a city that knows how to be December. The lights go up—strung across streets, wrapped around trees, illuminating the facades of buildings that have been standing for centuries. The cold becomes committed, no longer pretending it might reconsider. The Luxembourg Gardens are stripped and beautiful, the bare branches tracing patterns against the gray sky, the specific kind of bare that is its own kind of full. I finish the memoir on Tuesday.

Many of the company's projects were halted halfway, incurring severe losses. She told me all this while preparing a pot of soup for me, her expression calm and nonchalant. Still, I knew she was telling me this on purpose. I also blocked my parents. At Christmas, I officially acknowledged Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth as my godparents. The cab driver had been right. There were bound to be many obstacles, disappointments, and moments of despair in life, but good things would always come in time.

The property turned inward fully in December, which was its natural December mode — the garden under its winter mulch, the trees bare, the quality of the days short and cold and clear in the way of December days that were doing what December days were supposed to do without apology. Anya found December clarifying in the same way she found October clarifying, though differently. October’s clarity was the clarity of things being shown as they were. December’s clarity was the clarity of things stripped to their essentials. The above-ground finished for the season. The roots doing their winter work in the dark.

I said. The December night. The building around us. The radiator. The train. Noah breathing. The collection forming. The gate every day. Eight days to December fourteenth. The correct amount.