Collection of Short Stories

It is a small collection of short stories.

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The snow was falling fast, it stuck like glue on the pavement, and people struggled with their balance and shopping. It was Christmas Eve and everyone was panic buying. They tried to rush but the heavy snow kept them at bay. An old man with a white beard walked down the appropriately named Present Street. He looked like the Old Father Time, in a dark suit and even darker cloak around his body that struggled through the snow like every person else. People complained as buses full of people passed their allotted stops without picking up passengers, and stopping a few feet away to let them off and whizzing away empty. Someone whinged behind Old Father Time that he hated Christmas, and the SNOW, which at this point in time had turned to a blizzard. The old man smiled since he knew the tropics awaited him soon, and the warm sun blazing on the Australian beach. People stared in the windows of the local department store waiting their turn to enter the shopping church. The crowds began to push as the stores began to run out of items to sell. The streets were getting manic with Christmas shoppers, the traffic was going nowhere, and the fabled snow was getting thicker every minute. "At this rate, we'll see Father Christmas on his sleigh in a minute!" protested a large robust man in his late sixties. "He'll be the only or e to get out of this place tonight!" exclaimed another shopper with a wry smile. The shoppers laughed at their ever failing predicament. The five red and cream buses stopped in their tracks. The whole city had frozen up, locked in a snow grip that Hercules would have trouble breaking. The old man entered the 'House of Fraser' and maneuvered his way through the sea of people like a fish in a giant school. He stopped at the perfume counter and awaited his turn to procure some fragrance for his aged wife. He smiled she might be four billion years old, but she looked like an earthly fifty and it wasn't her fault she was laid up in bed with flu. "Do you have Chanel No.5?" he asked the eye popping sales assistant at the question given her. It was the most expensive perfume ever and the thought of dropping the bottle terrified the young junior. She smiled in an 'ok' and quickly disappeared to find her supervisor. "Sir!" said the older wiser woman that came back with the young associate behind her heels. "I would like 'Chanel No.5, please," said the old man. "It's £3,000, sir," she said in a rather posh voice. "I have an American Express Gold Card," replied the old man wryly. She walked off in huff, not expecting to sell it, and never mind receiving the commission. "It will probably bounce," she said to her nervous subordinate. The assistant nodded agreeing and smiled at the ancient gentleman. The old man of time gave his card and much to the surprise and disgust of the aged supervisor the card accepted the payment. Mrs. Glenda Foolworthy, a tall slim woman that treated people with contempt as much as she could, handed over the star prize in cologne to the old man. He nodded in appreciation of the posh box and very expensive bag. Old Father Time returned to the shopping school to fight his way out. His wife 'Elizabeth' lay inside a beech hut on the south Australian continent. She still had her flu and didn't know where it had come from. He breathed a sigh of relief as he emerged from the department store and the snow chaos outside. Now he chuckled to get home to give his Christmas present. His friend 'Father Christmas' also didn't mind giving the present early. Then he thought, in Australia it was already the big day. He could use 'Time', but he thought of a quicker way, home. Suddenly he waved his right hand in a magical gesture. Everything stopped, even the snow. The old man walked down a side street and looked at a picture of 'Bondi beach' in an expensive travel agent.' He waved again, and the small picture grew until it was a size he could actually walk in. The glass dissolved like salt into water, he stepped into the picture and instantly set foot onto Bondi beach in the late summer's day. At which he greeted his wife and gave her the present. "It's murder in London!" he said with a wry smile. His wife sneezed and coughed at the same time with a touch of a tear in her eye as a small laugh echoed around the hut. The End.  

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