| Children Fiction posted November 5, 2025 | Chapters: |
Prologue 1 -2- 3 
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Twelve Nights of Christmas
A chapter in the book The Twelve Nights Before Christmas
The Gift Box - Chap 2
by Begin Again
As the holiday season approached, the North Pole was a beehive of Santa's workers, rushing to make all the toys that Santa's sleigh would deliver around the world on Christmas Eve. At the end of each day, the lanterns dimmed, and a quiet hush settled over the North Pole.
The elves called out soft goodnights to each other as the workshop lights winked out one by one.
Outside, the stables rustled with sleepy yawns and loud snorts as the reindeer curled into straw with their tails tucked and noses warm.
Even the North Wind seemed to whisper softer, brushing glitter from the eaves as it swirled about.
Only Santa's lamp still burned--a single glow in the great white world known as the North Pole.
Mr. Jingles checked the calendar by the door and nodded. "'Tis the eleventh night before Christmas, Nick."
The jolly old man hung his jacket on the rack, gave his red suspenders a snap, and eased himself into his big overstuffed chair. The leather gave a little sigh as he sank into it.
A delicious aroma drifted from the kitchen — freshly baked cinnamon stars. Soft Christmas notes hummed through the walls as Mrs. Claus prepared steamy cups of cocoa sprinkled with peppermint chips.
Soon she appeared with a tray balanced in her soft hands. "The night crew needs its fuel," she teased, setting the cocoa and cookies beside a tall stack of letters. "These are the new arrivals today."
Santa's eyes twinkled. "Guess we'd better get to it then. Every child's letter deserves to be read."
He chose an envelope with neat, careful writing and a tiny box drawn in the corner. He read in a warm, low voice —
Dear Santa,
Christmas is a time of giving, but I don't have the money to buy the kind of gift my grandmother deserves.
Since you are the best gift-giver ever, I hope you can help me. I found a little box on my Oma's shelf. It is empty, but the angel carving is beautiful. And it smells like vanilla inside.
Is it all right to give a gift that isn't new?
Love, Greta
He touched the folded page to his heart and whispered, "Sometimes the best gifts are the old ones. Sleep, my little one. Santa's letter is on its way."
Mr. Jingles hurried to the door. The North Wind bent low, humming like a lullaby, and sent her frosty breath across the letter.
Whoooosh!
Her magic turned it into a tiny flake of light, which drifted into the night and landed in someone's dream.
The Dream
Tonight was a very special night for Greta because Santa had sent her a very special dream. As she drifted in a deep slumber, she found herself standing in a familiar cottage - one she hadn't visited for a very long time. It belonged to her Oma — her grandmother.
The walls were warm with candlelight. Lace curtains made moon shapes on the floorboards. The black pot-belly stove purred softly as the fire crackled inside. Something sweet — maybe vanilla and almond — scented the air.
Her gaze drifted to the fireplace mantel. Suddenly, her eyes widened in surprise — a small box just like the one she'd found in her closet. It was brown with a carved angel on top and a gold ribbon wrapped around it.
She glanced around, but nobody was there. "Silly girl, you are imagining things," she said, laughing and berating herself.
The sigh grew louder as she reached for the box once more. Greta leaped back again.
Oma's box whispered, "I didn't mean to frighten you. I haven't been touched in a very long time."
Greta's eyes widened. "You — you can talk."
A gentle breeze lifted the curtain, and the North Wind tiptoed in -- sparkling like the frost on the window.
"You're a very special little girl. Oma's box can't talk to everyone, but she can feel the love in your heart." She lifted Oma's box off the mantel and held it in front of Greta. "Shall we look inside?" she whispered.
Greta beamed. "Oh, yes. Is there something special inside?"
"Open it and see."
Greta lifted the lid and heard a tiny click. She peered inside.
A white flower with woolly petals resembling a daisy lay pressed against a lace handkerchief. The North Wind smiled. "It's an edelweiss. They grow in the mountains, and symbolize courage, purity, and devotion."
Greta murmured, "It's beautiful."
"It's from the year your Oma and Opa climbed the mountain," the Wind said. The flower carried their favorite memories when they came home."
Greta looked inside the box and saw a small paper heart with glitter sprinkled at the edges.
"Your mama made that when she was five," the Wind smiled. "She said it gave her courage. She carried it in her pocket to school because she knew Oma's love would always protect her."
There was a curl of pink ribbon from a baby dress.
Greta traced it with her finger. "Is it mine?"
The North Wind nodded. "You wore it on your first Christmas. Your Oma said you looked like a fairy princess."
Beneath the ribbon, a tiny recipe card, browned at the corners — Vanillekipferl.
Greta breathed in. "Oma's vanilla crescents."
"Handed down from generation to generation," the Wind said, "like a warm hand to hold."
At the very bottom, almost hidden, lay a silver bell no bigger than Greta's thumb. When she touched it, it gave a soft ting.
"That rang the night your Opa came home late in the snow," the Wind whispered. "Your Oma listened for it at the gate."
Greta's eyes stung, but in a good way. "The box isn't empty at all," she said softly. "It's full of love."
The North Wind smiled. "Love takes small shapes so it can fit in small places."
Greta looked around the cottage. The clock ticked. The stove hummed. Outside the window, a single star twinkled above the rooftops.
Greta said, "I want to give it back to Oma. But how do I make it a gift from me?"
The Wind said, "Add something of yours, and something true."
Greta thought for a moment. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a strand of red yarn from her scarf. She tied it into a small bow, just like the ones she helped Oma tie on cookie bags each Christmas.
She turned the paper heart over and wrote in careful letters — I will help you bake this year. And I will listen to your stories over and over because they are your memories.
She placed the heart and the red bow inside the box and closed the lid.
The North Wind tied the gold ribbon into a neat bow. "There," she said. "Old and new together — that's what makes a gift."
From far away, sleigh bells whispered — soft as laughter. A silhouette slid across the moon. "May your Christmas dreams come true," a kind voice called on the wind.
Outside, the snow sparkled brighter for a moment, as if the stars themselves had smiled. The little cottage glowed softly until it faded back into Greta's dreams.
*****
On Christmas morning, Greta woke to the soft clink of cups in the kitchen and Oma humming a carol.
On Christmas morning, Greta woke to the soft clink of cups in the kitchen and Oma humming a carol.
On the mantle sat the little gift box, tied with its gold ribbon. A sprig of fir lay beside it, and the air smelled like vanilla crescents baking.
Greta opened the lid. On top of her yarn wreath and heart lay the tiny silver bell she'd heard in the dream — and a note in Oma's flowery hand —
"Love never leaves, mein Liebchen — (my darling)
It waits to be remembered."
It waits to be remembered."
Greta pressed the bell to her cheek and smiled. "I remember," she whispered.
Outside, the same brave star lingered a moment above the roofs, then tucked itself into daylight.
*****
Moral:
The best gifts are the ones we share from our hearts.
North Pole Note -- Germany
Germany has many unique Christmas traditions. The four Sundays before Christmas, families light one more candle until all four are glowing and warm.
There is a festive atmosphere during the whole month of December. Christmas markets and stalls sell traditional German delicacies such as Christmas stollen, hot, sticky, roasted almonds, 'Lebkuchen' hearts (gingerbread hearts), and other Christmas sweets. Other markets sell hand-blown, painted glass baubles of all sizes and colors.
On December 6, kids celebrate St. Nicholas Day. They clean their shoes, place them by the door, and wait. By morning, St. Nicholas fills the shoes with small surprises, such as a small toy, chocolate, or nuts.
Friends and family celebrate this merry and festive occasion, and people sing Christmas carols. Often, children prepare and recite a poem for St Nicholas on that evening.
On December 25 (Christmas Day) and December 26, the family gathers for celebrations, and Christians visit Christmas mass. Depending on the region, some towns have the tradition of the Christkind, a representation of Jesus as a child. He appears as an angel with blond hair and angelic wings, bearing gifts.
Googled from - A to Z Kids Stuff
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