The Reindeer Strike

In this amazing story, a boy finds himself forced to prevent a world-wide disaster involving reindeer, banners and a few carrots.


1. The first snow

It was December the tenth, my favourite day. It was Saturday, the first day of the weekend. I slumbered out of bed and trudged in my slippers towards the window. It was ten o'clock, in my opinion, the best time to get up. As I slowly pulled the curtains apart, my face lit up.

Small, round, cold droplets floated gracefully towards the ground, joining an ever accumulating velvety blanket of snow! Glorious snow! I dashed downstairs and ripped my advent calendar open.

Aha! The tenth! Inside was...nothing?! That was funny. I bet my little brother had eaten it. He always eats my sweets, the little chocolate-pilferer. Still, I had to get out in that snow. I ran into the kitchen, grabbed a handful of cardboard-flakes (believe me, they are horrid) and flung my clothes on anywhere they would fit.

"Bye, Mum!" I shouted as I dashed outside.

"Are you sure you don't want a scarf on, dear?" Mum called after me.

"No thanks!" I called back. It was only minus two degrees outside, and wearing a scarf just didn't seem necessary. After all, you never see Santa wearing a scarf, do you?

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