Grey Paper E-Book

Angel Rupert

• Herausgeber: Bentockiz
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

For some reason, no doubt all psychological, it doesn’t make a difference unless he really becomes the character, like playing, being Santa for the children. There is some carry over, but never more than twenty-four hours so I try to make sure he stops talking before he starts having trouble. It really frustrates him. I’m so sorry you can’t have children because of what that psycho did to you. Is that one of the reasons you’re considering this job?

Leseprobe

Title Page

Grey Paper

Impenetrable

Angel Rupert

Grey Paper / 4th of series: Impenetrable / By Angel Rupert

Published 2023 by Bentockiz

e-book Imprint: Uniochlors

e-book Registration: Stockholm, Sweden

e-book ISBN: 9789198834338

e-book editing: Athens, Greece

Cover Images created via AI art generators

Table of Contents

Title Page

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Introduction

Through books we come into contact with everything important that has happened in the past, analyzing also current events and putting our thoughts together to predict the future. The book is a window to the world, acquiring valuable knowledge and sparking our vivid imagination. It is a means of entertainment and is generally seen as a best friend, or as a slave that carries together all valuable information for us. The book is a friend who stays together without demands, a friend you call upon at every moment and abandon when you want.

It accompanies us in the hours of boredom and loneliness, while at the same time it entertains us. In general, a book does not ask anything from us, while it waits patiently on a dusty shelf to give us its information, to get us out of dead ends and to travel us to magical worlds.

This may be the travel mission of our books. Abstract narration, weird or unconscious thoughts difficult to be understood, but always genuine and full of life experiences, these are stories of life that can’t be overlooked easily.

This may be the start of something amazing!

Chapter One

Young boys swarmed the festively decorated stairs, foyer, and living room of the large house, uncharacteristically ignoring the food-laden tables in the dining room to my right as they explored the meticulously adorned areas with awestruck expressions. A few of the younger children avoided getting too close to the life-sized moving figures scattered around, but couldn’t seem to stop staring at them.

I watched all the activity from the front doorway of the huge Victorian house as the woman that had opened the door for me moved to the side, inviting me in.

“We were so thrilled when Santa wrote to us informing us that Mrs. Claus might make it tonight,” she gushed. “And here you are. Of course, we told the boys that you were making a special trip just for them and had to use an alternate form of transportation,” she continued as she winked in my direction, “and they were more than understanding, so don’t think that seeing Mrs. Claus entering through the front door will bother them.”

“Mrs. Santa!” a voice yelled, and suddenly I was surrounded by all shapes and sizes of young boys, talking and gesticulating at the same time.

I couldn’t pinpoint or decipher any of the conversation aimed at me, but it didn’t matter. The joy—the tremendous Christmas spirit that shone on every face—brought a smile to my face so humongous that it hurt my cheek muscles. Of course, that would explain the tears gathering in my eyes...it wasn’t emotion-related at all...simply from my cheeks hurting so badly from the giant smile I couldn’t seem to control...yeah...that was it...

Suddenly, a loud and heartfelt ‘ho ho ho’ involuntarily escaped me and everyone froze...including me.

Once I recovered from the shock of what I’d done, I glanced around, worried that I’d scared the smaller kids, but then they all started to laugh and clap and the little ones began dancing around excitedly.

“Now we know she really is Mrs. Claus,” one of the older boys pronounced solemnly. “Only the real Mrs. Claus could sound so much like Santa.”

My cheeks turned red with a bit of embarrassment, but mostly with pleasure, as I nodded an acknowledgment. And with that, I suddenly realized that I was having the time of my life.

I was Mrs. Santa Claus.

I laughed out loud in sheer joy as I pictured the look on Garnet’s face if I showed up at work dressed from top to bottom as the jolly old man’s wife...truly a Kodak moment.

“Oh my,” the woman next to me gasped and pointed towards the ceiling, “I think I hear something on the roof.”

And there it was...the unmistakable sound of reindeer hooves on the shingles and the faint sound of tinkling bells in the distance.

“It’s time!” the boys yelled in unison promptly turning and loping into the large living area.

As the kids gathered around the oversized stone fireplace, it was obvious from their barely control squirming as they fought the urge to jump up and head towards the empty and surprisingly clean cavernous hole in the wall that had to be the largest fireplace I’d ever seen, that they knew what was coming.

The fact that it was Christmas Eve, that the kids were gathered around a fireplace, that there were reindeer on the roof, and that I was dressed as Mrs. Santa...well...even I could figure out that it must be Santa Claus coming.

Condor was wrong...I possessed a modicum of intelligence.

We heard him long before we saw him...his ‘ho ho ho’ echoing down the chimney and out the fireplace below rang out clearly in the suddenly quiet living room. The only movements in the room were some of the younger boys elbowing each other and mouthing ‘Santa’ in awe.

And then suddenly he was there...the jolly old man himself...booming ‘ho ho ho’ as he landed on his feet inside the huge fireplace. Immediately afterwards, two elves landed on either side of him, complete with matching, albeit smaller, red cloth bags slung on their backs.

Although I was fairly certain no one else noticed, I saw Santa surreptitiously disconnecting the rappelling line from underneath the back of his bright red jacket before ducking just a bit and moving onto the tile in front of the fireplace, hiding the two elves from view for a few seconds. That provided time for the less experienced helpers to unhook themselves and move out beside Santa.

I was totally impressed by the ingenuity of it all. Someone had created some extremely well thought-out plans and executed them perfectly. The whole set-up had ‘Grunt’ written all over it.

Of course, I was a bit disappointed that Santa wasn’t Grunt, but how could he be? Grunt never talked, and the children needed a talking Santa. Replaying the note in my head, I realized I’d misinterpreted it.

Could you be Mrs. Claus for a group of orphan boys?

The note he’d left me had asked if I could be Mrs. Claus...not if I could be his Mrs. Claus. And it was enough that he’d thought of me to play the role. I understood completely and was more than happy to be Mrs. Claus for the night.

“Santa!” dozens of wide-eyed kids exclaimed in wonder.

“Santa,” I murmured in appreciation, a half-smile curving my lips.

Wow!

Whoever was playing Santa was built...no bowl-full-of-jelly stomach for that jolly old elf. No sirree...not that Santa. I’d never seen a Santa with shoulders that wide or hips that tapered or leg muscles that looked as if the material covering them was stretched to the max...and not from fat, either.

He was too short to be Condor, so it had to be Fresco. Although I had never heard Fresco talk before the incident at the Embassy, at least I knew he could talk...not much, apparently, but more than Grunt...and enough to play Santa. I figured that Grunt and Condor were somewhere up on the roof waiting to haul Fresco back up after every child’s wish had been fulfilled.

Suddenly, all eyes were on me and I realized I’d zoned out and had no idea what was going on.

“Well, Mrs. Claus,” Santa boomed, “the children want to know if you have a hug and a kiss for the husband you haven’t seen in a while.”

As the kids cheered and shoved me towards the man in the red suit, I realized something...Santa looked familiar...and not Fresco familiar.

Wait a minute...wait just a doggone minute...the man with the deep booming voice...it couldn’t be...there was no way...I mean, Grunt didn’t talk...he’d told me so himself...or at least nodded when I’d asked...

Reaching the jolly old elf’s side, I raised my eyes to his blue twinkling ones and knew for sure it was Grunt...my Grunt...and he could talk.

As he leaned over me, eyes asking me to give him a chance to explain, I decided I didn’t care about the how or why of it...all that mattered was that the man I loved was right there, ready and willing to kiss me in front of a bunch of cheering children. I threw my arms around his neck and planted one on him.