122117 SWB DIGITAL EDITION

16 x December 21, 2017 - January 3, 2018 x www.SouthwestOrlandoBulletin.com
26 th
annual
of the
Stories of the
Season
The entries submitted for Southwest Orlando Bulletin’s 26th annual Stories of the Season
contest told tales of special visits from Santa, mystical holiday creatures and the joy of
spending time with family and friends. Whether they recreate holiday memories or take
readers to imaginary places filled with elves, reindeer and their ilk, they are sure to add
holiday spirit to all this year.
Congratulations to first-place winner Cassidy Eaton of Tildens Grove, runner-up Megan
Ramsey of Hickory Hammock, and child winner Brooke Larweth of Lake Davis Reserve,
all of whom received cash prizes. Also included are submissions selected as honorable
mentions.
The staff of the Southwest Orlando Bulletin extends thank-yous to everyone who entered the
contest and wishes a happy holiday season to all.
Winner
A Holiday Surprise
by Cassidy Eaton
Tildens Grove
As I walked through the hallways at
school, I kept my head down. My dad
had taught me to keep my head high,
but that was before I turned 14. I grew
up in Sugar Land, Texas, and had never
told another person about my dad —
about the months he spent away; about
the wars he fought in; or about the times
he would come home, barely able to
walk, and then he would leave a month
later. The only thing that helped me function
while my hero was away was knowing
that he would always come back,
especially for Christmas, that he was
able to come home and see us for the
one holiday that we asked him to. But
like all good things, it had to come to
an end.
The beginning of the end was when
my mom came into the house with our
mail one Friday. Her face lit up. It was
a note from Dad! In barely a second, I
was standing next to Mom, prepared for
the update.
She carefully opened the letter and
pulled out a white piece of paper.
“Dear family,” she began. “I know you
were planning on having me all to yourselves
this Christmas, but unfort- …”
Mom stopped there. As she continued
reading, her face grew pale.
“What is it?” I asked.
Mom gave me the letter, and I found
where she had stopped, continuing from
there.
“I cannot make it home this Christmas.
We’ve made advances, and I have been
given the order to stay put. I am so sorry,
Firefly, but I can’t come home until the
battle is over. Love, Dad.”
When I was done reading the letter,
my mind kept going to the name he
had called me — Firefly. He had given
it to me the very first Christmas I can
remember.
For the rest of the week, I kept my
head down. On Christmas Eve, it began
to snow. I hated that the rest of the town
would be joyful at home with their white
Christmases and happy families, while
I would be stuck fearing what could be
happening to my dad.
As sunset arrived, I remembered what
my dad would say every Christmas Eve,
“The day we celebrate would never
have been important if Jesus hadn’t been
strong and stood up for the right things in
life, Firefly. So you need to do the same.”
I fell asleep that night remembering
all of the Christmases before that one.
Before I turned 14.
I awoke on Christmas morning to
shouts coming from the living room. I
rushed out and saw a big box on the
floor. Tears spilled down my face as I realized
what was inside. And when my
dad came out, my tears turned into sobs.
For the rest of the day, we heard stories
of his adventures. And I went to
sleep that night knowing that my prayers
had been answered.
Runner-Up
Wedding Surprise
by Megan Ramsey
Hickory Hammock
“‘Twas the night before Christmas and
all through the house ...”
“Mom, I’ve heard that story so many
times,” Jessie, my 8-year-old daughter,
said with a whine.
“Tell me a new one?” she asked,
looking up at me with hazel eyes full of
curiosity.
I let out a small laugh and closed the
book, pushing it aside as I thought of the
perfect story to tell.
“There was once a girl just like you.
She loved Christmas, and her biggest
concern in life was that she couldn’t
get every toy in the store,” I said with
a laugh.
Jessie laughed, too, and looked away
shyly, knowing she was guilty of doing
the same.
“Well, years later, when this girl was
in her 20s, the holidays were a bit different
and so were her life problems.
Around this time of year, she opened
her mailbox and received an invitation
from her cousin, Bailey, saying, ‘‘Tis the
season. You are formally invited to Mark
and Bailey’s wedding on Dec. 23.’ This
was something the girl was definitely not
looking forward to.”
“Why?” Jessie interrupted. “Weddings
are exciting!”
“Yes, they are,” I said. “However, this
was a bit different. She knew all of her
family would be there. Every time they
got together, they hassled her about getting
married and tried to set her up with
guys she had no interest in!”
“That’s no fun,” Jessie said, shaking
her head.
“Not at all. But Bailey was her cousin,
and she had to go to her wedding to support
her. At least there was food involved
and plenty of dessert!”
At this point, Jessie became more
interested.
“During the wedding reception, she
spent most of her time near the buffet.
Luckily, she met someone who she could
talk to instead of her overly inquisitive
family. This someone was one of the
waiters. He was super-easy to talk to,
and they shared many similar interests.
During their conversation, she saw some
of her family walking toward her and
gave the waiter a panicked look. He
grabbed her hand and was able to get
her out of the reception to escape! She
realized she wanted more time away,
and he took her to his favorite spot, on
the roof of the hotel where there were
lights and a beautiful garden.”
“That sounds so nice!” Jessie said.
“It really was. They spent hours talking,
and she knew she was really interested
in him. However, her family always
pressured her to be with someone successful
like a doctor, but she didn’t care
about that. Then, one thing crossed her
mind. ‘How are you allowed up here?’
she asked him. He scratched his neck
awkwardly, admitting that he was not a
waiter. He was the owner of the hotel
and wanted someone to like him for who
he was, but it didn’t make a difference to
her; she liked him all the same. His name
was Matt, and her name was Brooke.”
“That’s you and Dad!” Jessie
exclaimed.
Child Winner
Count Your Blessings
by Brooke Larweth
Lake Davis Reserve
I’ve seen snow before — the pearly
white glimmer of a fresh layer on the
lawn; the wet, gray slush it eventually
morphs into. The best type of snow
though is Christmas snow. Just one single
snowflake on the tip of your nose, sets
you into a trance of wonder and awe.
But there’s no Christmas snow in Haiti.
It was a long, rickety, dust-covered
drive from the airport to our destination:
a small, rural town called Capotille. All
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