And now, I humbly submit my offering for Susanna Leonard Hill’s Holiday Writing Contest. Hope you like it!
Santa Vs Sharknado, by Kathryn Cunningham
A flash of light streaked across the velvety Christmas Eve sky. It was Santa, and he was late.
“Status report!” called Santa to his two helper elves.
“We lost 17 minutes avoiding those cruise ships off the Norwegian coastline,” replied Tinsel, “but we should be able to make it up once we reach New York.”
Radar checked his instrument panel and frowned. “We’re about halfway across the Atlantic Ocean,” he said, “but we’re heading straight for a major hurricane. I recommend going around it.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” chuckled Santa. “And lose another 12 minutes? Not on your life! We go through!”
Clouds gathered ominously as they approached the storm. Santa gripped the reins. “Here we go! Hold on tight!”
In a flash, blinding rain and raging wind surrounded them, momentarily blowing the reindeer off course.
“Steer clear of those water spouts!” warned Radar. “The sled can’t take…..”
Radar broke off suddenly as something big and squishy sounding knocked one of the runners clean off the bottom of the sled.
“Oh no,” murmured Santa, as the air around him filled with huge, writhing bodies.
“SHARKNADO!!!” they all cried. A pair of jaws flashed and Dasher disappeared from the front of the reindeer team.
“Dasher!” wailed Santa, pulling hard on the reins, narrowly saving Blitzen from another set of deadly jaws.
Two massive sharks landed on the sled. Tinsel grabbed a baseball bat from Santa’s sack and clubbed them away.
“Good thing Bobby was on the nice list!” she grinned, then hit the ground, unconscious, as another shark thudded onto the sled.
“We’re almost through!” shouted Radar, leaping to protect Tinsel’s crumpled form. The shark thrashed wildly, razor teeth snapping at his heels! Suddenly, a pair of antlers rammed the shark off the sled just as they shot through clouds into the calm night sky.
“Oh Dasher, thank goodness!” Santa sighed as Dasher took his place at the front of the team. “Well, Radar, message the North Pole and have them send the back up sled to New York, and tell them we need a new bat for Bobby!”