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About This Author
 Kiya is a young woman with many interests. She's got a degree in Computer Science and Registered Nursing.
She's an avid reader and considers Stephen King one of her favorite authors.
She's also been known to pen one or two stories here and there, and as a proud moderator of Writing.Com, she invites you to check out her portfolio (and even better, to sign up today!).
Published Works:
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Pegasus in the Snow
There was polite applause after Peggy Lou completed her presentation.
The bespectacled child hesitated, unsure of what to do next, until Margery Kirsch—homeroom teacher of a lively class of seven- and eight-year-olds—offered her a warm smile and motioned toward her seat.
It was the students’ second week back from winter break, which meant it was time for their annual tradition: sharing holiday adventures.
So far, the class had delivered the usual assortment of stories—cozy days at home, carols sung off-key, church services, football in the backyard, and gifts unwrapped with glee. A few children had made a real effort this year, and Margery appreciated that, though she still wished their delivery could be a bit more engaging.
Some of the boys in the back clearly felt the same; their attention had drifted, and they were now snickering and launching spitballs at unsuspecting targets.
It was time for the day’s final presentation.
“All right, Maryann,” she announced, tapping the wooden cane sharply against the blackboard. “Come share with the class how you spent your winter holidays.”
Maryann Brody leapt to her feet with a grin.
Her blond pigtails—each tied with oversized poinsettia bows—swung merrily as she skipped to the front. Despite it being January, she still wore a festive pinafore patterned with bright Christmas trees.
Margery couldn’t help smiling. Maryann was one of her brightest students—an eager reader and a budding writer whose imagination filled every short story with delightful magic. Best of all, she embraced her quirks without hesitation.
Dismissive snickers from a few classmates didn’t deter her. She cleared her throat, opened her rainbow-striped folder, and began.
“This past December,” she said, her voice loud and clear, “my family went to visit my grandpa in Casper, Wyoming. Even though Mom and my big brother Davey did not want to go—because they don’t like how cold it is up there—Dad and I were really excited.
“It was a long drive to Casper, but Dad and I had a lot of fun singing Christmas carols in the car. Dad said the best part about going back home is that he gets to ride his snowmobile. It’s because he lived near the mountains, and he could ride downhill really fast. I don’t think Mom liked that very much. She gets very worried that Dad will break something.”
A few giggles rippled through the room.
“For me, the best part is getting to spend time with the best Grandpa in the world. Since Grandma died last summer—she was very sick—Grandpa has been living alone, and I think he’s sad about it, but he doesn’t like to show it much. So when we got there, I tried really hard to cheer him up.
“I showed him the snow globe I made in Arts and Crafts, and he loved it. He put it right on the fireplace and said the house finally looked like Christmas even though Dad and Davey had already set up the Christmas tree and all the lights. Mom didn’t agree—she said everything was dusty and messy—so we helped clean for a while.”
The class listened, more attentive now.
“In Grandpa’s shed was where all the cool stuff was! I saw many things that belonged to Grandma, and Grandpa couldn’t throw them away because they meant so much to him. So Mom suggested we put them all in a big chest and keep it safe in the attic. I did get to keep one of Grandma’s hairpins. Mom says it is something called ‘vintage,’ meaning it’s extra special. It is made out of ivory and pearls, and I wore it for the Christmas photo we took.”
Maryann paused long enough to pluck the photograph from her folder, holding it up for her classmates, who now seemed enraptured with her story. She smiled at the impressed “oohs” before tucking it away.
“We found something else in Grandpa’s shed. It was an old sled that used to belong to my dad when he was a kid! Dad said that when he was about my age, he’d sit or lie on the sled and Grandpa would either pull him down the slopes or push him from behind. It was rusty, though, and some of the parts were broken, so Dad figured they would throw it away. I thought it was very sad.
“That is why, on Christmas morning, when it was time to open the presents and Grandpa called me outside to see a surprise just for me, I was so happy to see the sled again! It had been fixed and painted, and it had a huge red bow on it with my name. Here is a picture of me with the sled.”
This time, Maryann allowed the photo to be passed around the room. She was especially pleased to see the boys gasp and exclaim their excitement at the simple yet delightful toy.
“I named the sled ‘Pegasus,’” Maryann said proudly, “because when I ride it, I feel like I can fly. I couldn’t bring Pegasus home, but Grandpa promised to keep it safe in his garage until next time.
“Even though I got lots of other nice presents, and Mom and Dad cooked so much delicious food, the best part of Christmas was seeing Grandpa smile and laugh again. He even agreed to visit us in a couple of months. Mom says it will be good for him to get out of Casper for a while. And I have so many fun things to show him in San Diego.”
She closed her folder with a flourish. “The end.”
Her classmates applauded enthusiastically.
“Well done, everyone,” Margery began, just as the shrill cry of the bell signalled the end of class and caused the children to leap to their feet, eager to escape. “I hope you all cherish your memories of winter because next time, we’ll be reading a book all about that—”
She might as well have been talking to the air, for half the class was already out the door.
But this time, Maryann was not leaving on her own. She was surrounded by curious classmates, peppering her with questions and pleading for more stories.
A warm smile spread across Margery’s face.
A Christmas miracle, she thought.
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Word Count: 1049
Written For: "Wintry Writing Wonderland" 
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