Below is the third and last contesting entry for the 2018 Holiday Writing Challenge. After you’ve read it, be sure to vote for your favorite entry with the poll at the bottom of the page.

 *Please note all entries have been posted as submitted. 

Mr. Peepers

Twas the morning before Christmas and all through the house, I was five and waiting with limited patience to open a present a day early. This gift wasn’t from Saint Nick but from his elf, Mr. Peepers, who existed only in the lives of my brother and me. I am the youngest of five children, but my eldest three siblings are from my mother’s first marriage and receive presents from their biological father for the holiday as well as gifts from Santa. In an attempt to keep things even amongst the five siblings, my parents decided that Mr. Peepers should be invented to deliver a special gift on Christmas Eve. I wouldn’t find the gift under the tree. It was handed directly to the me by my parents after Mr. Peepers magically dropped it off. It came without ribbons but was always wrapped nicely with a tag on it from my special elf.

The Mr. Peepers in my imagination closely resembled Hermey the dentist in the 1964 Animagic version of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” He was perpetually happy and could drive Santa’s sled by himself, borrowing it during the day just to deliver my present. Mr. Peepers had only failed to deliver a gift one year, when he let my parents know that he must have misplaced it but would bring it soon. Sure enough, the day after Christmas my mom gave me a bedspread with multi-colored Garfield paw prints all over it. It had fallen out of the sleigh and my mom found it outside in the snow!

Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time before the older children’s illusions of Santa were shattered and, therefore, there had to be a way for Mr. Peepers to exit the Christmas scene. My mother sat me down and told me that Mr. Peepers had been struck and killed by a car in the center of the very small town in which we lived. All I could imagine was poor Mr. Peepers strewn across the road, packages scattered everywhere, police cars on scene. It was abrupt and final. Yippee-ki-yay. No more extra presents, no more Mr. Peepers. It was devastating. As an adult I asked my parents why they chose this brutal demise and they denied it, blaming its creation on one of the older siblings, who also denied it. The truth may never out. RIP Mr. Peepers.

Need a refresher before you vote? You can read finalist entry # 1 here, and click here for finalist entry # 2!

If you have trouble loading the poll below, please click here.