December, 19, 2017  - Grappling Hook Christmas

This is a writing group prompt:   Grappling Hook and Christmas was the prompt for December.

My submission is a as follows:

Grappling hook Christmas

        “Honey, wake up.”

        Roused from sleep, I felt a gentle nudge.

        “Wake up.” He whispered again and pulled back the covers.

        “Get dressed.” He commanded softly.

        I sat up, my mind raced with alarm. “You haven’t been called up?”

        “Shhh, quiet, don’t wake the kids.” John was crouched beside the bed fully dressed.

        “It has stopped snowing; we’ve about 5 or 6 inches.” He advised and stood up. He was rummaging in his special gear closet while I quickly yanked on a jogging suit and trainers.

        “Here, take this.”

        I took the strange wooden contraption. In the semi-darkness I could only make out small metal horse shoes nailed to wooden slats.

        “Come on, I need your help.” He ushered me gently down the hall into the living room.  Over his shoulder, I noticed a coiled rope and a grappling hook.

        “What are we doing?”  I asked in a husky whisper.

        “Operation sleigh bells.”

        “Sleigh bells?”

        “Pick out three Santa gifts.  One big one and two small ones, the big one should be for Johnny and the little ones for Sarah.” His voice was still low, but filled with mischief.

        I followed him out the front door.

        In the pre-dawn light the landscape was hushed and glowed with a fresh blanket of snow.  The air was crisp. I couldn’t remember the last time we had snow on Christmas Day.

        “Hang that over my other shoulder and give me the gifts. He commanded.

He crunched through the snow – pausing about 10 feet from the front stoop and dropped one small package in the snow, then a few feet further, dropped the other one. He walked to the center of the lawn and did an about face, then another and then tossed the large package toward the bay window.  Then he walked further another 20 feet or so and turned. 

        In the brightness of the newly fallen snow, I watched my professional soldier remove the rope from his shoulder and slowly uncoiled it.  The loose end of the rope he put under his left foot and then he gently swung the hefty grappling hook end in a gentle arc.  Letting it go, it landed about fifty feet in the undisturbed snow covered lawn.  Slowly he dragged it back to him.  Next, he stepped a few paces to the west and repeated the action creating two parallel  lines in the snow. 

        He re-wound his gear and next took that wooden contraption and worked it in the snow stopping every so often when he took a paper bag out of his vest and sprinkled something.  At the furthest end, he took out another bag and placed something dark on the snow and continued with the contraption and sprinkling again as he retraced his steps.

        Arriving back on the front stoop he asked,  

        “How’s it look?” 

        “Is this what you Rangers do on your long missions, think up cleverness?” I asked breathless from the cold and the joy of it.

        “So?” he asked.

        “Sure looks like Santa’s sleigh landed on our front lawn.”

        “Mission accomplished.”

        “What did you do down at the end.”

        “I sprinkled some farm Oats around.”

        “Do, I dare ask about the dark thing in the snow?”

        “Reindeer poop – got to make it authentic.”