December Prompts Novels & Stories

He put the pen down. He looked at the south window. The solstice light. The tenth year. The practice is in December. He was glad. He was, in the full weight of the tenth solstice and the ten years of the practice and the rooms in their Decembers and the community centre not yet built and the section beginning with the shortest day and the eleventh year ahead and the vocabulary still growing and the attending still deepening and the mornings not yet arrived still in the sections being drawn toward them, glad.

Aurora December 24, 2024 “More,” I said as I tipped the empty glass toward the bartender in front of me. “I want to have more.” My words came out as if I were begging. While waiting, I looked around the club. It was just like a chaotic snow globe of December madness. The red and green lights were hung around every corner, shining across faces. Lovers were holding each other, dancing; some whispering over the music, while some singles were dancing alone and enjoying the Christmas songs blasting from the speakers.

My phone buzzes at the first red light. A calendar invite from Patricia Sinclair: Christmas Dinner - December 25th - 6 PM | Attendees: Elena, Ava, Adrian Kane I stare at it for a long moment. Not approval. Not yet. But a chance. And maybe that's all I deserve to ask for.

Tears streamed endlessly, unstoppable. Our bedroom was filled with memories: photos Adrian had taken of me and portraits I’d sketched of him. Every single one now revealed itself as part of the elaborate trap he’d woven for me. What was there left to hold on to? Footsteps echoed outside. Panic surged. I fled into the bathroom, hands shaking as I unlocked my phone. I found a long-forgotten contact and typed a message. "I want to completely disappear from this world."

Snow collected along the edges of the market square like someone had sprinkled icing sugar across the town. Every December, Winter Haven Market came alive with tiny wooden stalls, glittering lights, and the smell of cinnamon and roasted nuts. Mitchelle Byers had worked the same corner stall for five years, selling handcrafted candles and body oils she made in her small apartment. Some customers called her stall a “scent paradise.” She called it survival. She pulled the knitted beanie lower over her ears as another gust of freezing wind swept across the walkway. It was almost closing time, and she had already packed half the shelves. She rubbed her fingers together, trying to get blood moving

Kaleb Brantley hated December and everything that had to do with it. The days were too short, making the nights seem as long as forever. It was colder than hell and dark… But, most of all, there was the incessant Christmas badgering. Lights, trees, carols, and an ever-increasing barrage of commercials urging you to shop, spend, buy. And every reminder of the holiday season ate at the edges of his soul and heart like drops of acid.

Full of promise. ##################

The call from the production company came in December, a time when the world seemed to slow down, wrapped in the quiet of winter. The air was crisp, and the garden outside Dante’s kitchen window lay bare, its bones exposed to the chill. Inside, the range emitted a comforting warmth, a stark contrast to the cold outside. It was a moment of stillness, one that Dante often found himself seeking amidst the chaos of his life.