Novel & Cerita Rudolph The Red-nosed Reindeer Book

Wounds and courage. My chest suddenly felt warm. “This,” My voice wavered. “This is incredibly close to my character.” Rudolf closed the sketchbook gently. “I’m not finished,” he said flatly. “But I know how to make the cover you want. You just need to give me more specific details.” I straightened. “What kind of details?” “Colors. Atmosphere. Important symbols.” He gestured to the long table beside me. “There are several color palette catalogs there. Choose the one that best fits the tone of your book.”

Kuya Ronny would have loved this. I opened a Clifford the Big Red Dog booklet. It sounded like velcro and bubble wrap when I turned page to page. I was marveling on the paper's thickness when an engine coughed and banged from the distance. I put the booklet back to the shelves and raced to the open door. My stomach tightened. Joshua climbed out of his truck and met with his friend by the school gate.

Your interest's been caught by the alluring sticky web of curiosity. You don't think twice before snapping your finger on its hem and flipping it open. There's a picture of a man there dressed up in a dashing red. It's almost like a Royal outfit, but you don't know. Starting from his neck to his perfectly shined shoes. His structure's visible for whoever reads this kind of thing, But his face. There's a big question mark taking over and hiding away his pixeled features. Your eyes soon hover to the words written just at the top corner of the page and when you sink the piece of information, you freeze.

Christmas was the reading of the book. This Christmas, Don's book was a novel—Norwegian, which was not a coincidence, a novel by the same writer whose essays were in the Norway reading programme. The novel was called The Dark Year, and it was about a man who spent a winter alone in a cabin in the far north of Norway, experiencing the full darkness for the first time. Don had been saving it since September, when he had finished the essays. He had placed it on the shelf above his desk, the designated holding place for the Christmas book, and had not opened it once.

I don't know when we got too comfortable, that his head was now placed on my lap while I gently combed and massaged his head with my fingers. “I kept turning pages until I found myself at the last page six hours later. I got so engrossed, I even lost track of time. The next day I came back to find some more books on the Arctic Wolf, but couldn't. So I re-read this one again. And again. And again. Every day, I would come back only to read the book again. And yes, now I can proudly say that I know every word, every title of every chapter at the back of my hand.” He smirked proudly.

Deo, my secretary really intended to prank me. I grabbed my phone to call him, but before I dialed his number, my secretary's big face appeared on my laptop monitor. “Sorry for that sir Rhio. There has to be a technical problem for sure.” I noticed right away the little red thing on his nose and the antlers on his head. “Boss! Look, I'm Rudolph!” he winked at me, but it was obvious that he was just forced to do it. “What kind of stupidity is this Deo?” I point out to him.

“Where did you find our great story?’ Rula pointed in any direction, out the window of her house. “Skymane Shop.” Rondolf frowned. He thought a large and sacred building had kept the eternal story of the Alpha's journey throughout the years. “Children's fairy tale bookstore. Put it one kilometer from ….” Rula paused when she realized Rondolf was looking at her with those hideous eagle eyes. She was mistaken. She shouldn't have said a children's story bookstore … maybe it's cooler just to call it a bookstore. "Forgive me." Rula ended her sentence with a horse smile. "I didn't know that was insulting to you guys."

“So, teeny Clementine, all dressed up like a Christmas princess… don’t you just look adorable?” I watch as she giggles with delight, tugging playfully at his beard. She truly does look precious in her red dress, complete with a tulle skirt and a cheerful Rudolph design on the front. “And I see you brought your very beautiful… older sister?” he says, glancing up at me with a playful raise of his eyebrow. “I think Santa is being a little naughty with Mommy… what do you say, Teeny?” I can’t help but smile; he has such charm that he can get away with quite a lot.

Bookmaking was harder and messier than it looked. Oliver wandered through the North Pole. He was sad. Oliver knew there had to be one special job he could do even if he was little. Then he heard a sound of hooves clattering at the stables. Inside, a herd of reindeer had gathered to meet Dot, the new reindeer. She was little just like Oliver.

She is our fire. My father's favourite book has more or less always been "Little Red Riding Hood"; it was the only fairy tale he read to me before bed. And somehow, we both built an unrealistic relationship with this fairytale. Proof of this was the blood-red hooded cape my father gave me for my birthday. I took part in the ceremony, dressed in a white dress, the cloak and entered the woods wearing it.