Author's note: What follows is a work of fiction based on real-life events. None of the characters depicted are real and any similarity to real people living or dead is purely coincidental.
This story is unlike any that I have written before, and I was not sure what category it should be submitted under. Despite one of the protagonists being an elf, I decided that she was not sufficiently non-human, and although there is some erotic coupling described, and I hope some humour, whilst this story is a fantasy involving a virgin, it is ultimately a romance.
All the characters depicted in this story are adults over the age of eighteen years.
This story has been entered for the 2023 Holidays Contest ,
and this is the first occasion I have submitted a story to any competition. I do not expect to win. There are far too many excellent authors writing on this site, for this to ever happen. My purpose in submitting an entry is to increase exposure to my work.
Please score and comment. Constructive comments are valuable and help authors to both write better and incentivises them to write more.
Any editing errors are mine and mine alone.
Four Wishes and an Elf
I am not a perfect person and like all of us, I have my flaws. This story starts with three of these, impatience, intolerance, and impulsiveness. Thankfully, I also displayed a little generosity.
It was Christmas Eve when I arrived back at Heathrow. I had been on a business trip to Turkey and was frustrated, tired, and dirty. Things had not gone as planned, and a trip meant to last over Christmas had been cut short. Now I was returning to a cold empty flat with nothing in the fridge and only a few cans of beans and tinned meat on the shelves. That Christmas I was unattached, and I was destined to spend it alone in front of the television. My parents were in Singapore where they lived, and my sister and her husband had gone on a cruise somewhere warm. Christmas is a time for family, not friends, and what friends I had were spending it with their loved ones.
I would just have to make the best of it.
I retrieved my baggage from the carousel, headed for the taxi rank, and took a cab home to Guildford. It was early evening when I arrived home. I fired up the central heating, threw my dirties in the washing machine, showered, and then, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, I headed for the supermarket.
It was a big shop, so I took a trolley. I'm not an organised shopper and I did not have a list, so it took me at least forty-five minutes to find what I wanted. When I had finished, the trolley was almost full. Most importantly I found four well-cured Aberdeen Angus fillet steaks, some smoked salmon, stilton cheese, and half a dozen bottles of my favourite burgundy.
The store was heaving and the queue at the checkouts was longer than ever. Predictably enough, not all the checkouts were manned. Mr Supermarket obviously didn't want to pay enough to entice his staff to work that day, and I was unimpressed.
I reached the belt and started to place my purchases on it. Ahead of me was a shabbily dressed old lady. behind me, a smartly dressed young man in a designer suit and expensive shoes stood with a basket containing six bottles of expensive champagne. I remember being saddened by the unfairness of life as the old lady started to place her purchases in her tattered shopping bag. It was obvious she was counting the pennies as she slowly picked up her holiday feast. She had bought a small pack of bacon, a can of beans, a loaf of bread, a can of sardines, a jar of jam, half a dozen eggs, and a single, onion, banana, and apple. Wherever possible she had purchased shop-brand economy items. I imagined that some of this was to be her Christmas dinner.
I watched her take her purse from her handbag and slowly start to count out coins to pay, and as she did, Mr Champagne, who had been becoming increasingly fidgety because of her feebleness, started to talk to himself under his breath.
"Hurry up, you old bag, I heard him say softly."
As I watched the old lady, I saw her start to panic. First, she shook out her purse, and then she started to rummage around in her handbag. It was apparent that she did not have enough money to pay.
I saw her embarrassedly speak to the shop assistant, explain that she was eighty-three pence short, and ask her what she could return to make up the shortfall.
Behind me, I heard somebody speak. This time his voice was louder.
"Now fucking what?"
As the old dear fumbled in her basket to find something worth giving back. I decided to act.
I turned to her and spoke.
"That's happened to me before," I said. "Please allow me to help."
I placed my card in the scanner and was about to key in my number before I stopped.
"Please add these to the lady's shopping," I said to the assistant, before giving her my steaks, a bag of frozen chips, some dates, nuts, a bottle of sherry, and a small Christmas cake.
"You do drink? "I asked.
"Sherry, at Easter and Christmas. But I can't possibly accept all of this."
"Why not, I asked. Merry Xmas."
"God bless you," she replied, as I paid for everything.
I thought I saw tears in her eyes as she slowly shuffled away.
The shop assistant had been watching the proceeding, and as the old lady moved away, she turned to me and smiled. When she did, I saw the face of an angel. She had long honey-brown hair, soft red cupid lips, and deep blue eyes which seemed to see inside of me. Just for a moment, I was transfixed, and a spark of something seemed to pass from her to me.
"That was very good of you," she said. "An act of true kindness."
I heard Mr Champagne speak.
"More like fucking stupidity. And now I suppose I'm going to have to wait whilst somebody brings you everything you just gave away?"
I'd finally had enough and turned and addressed him. I took care not to raise my voice, chose my words carefully, and did not use bad language. It was Christmas, after all.
"I'm not going to make you wait. Not because I care whether you do or not, but because I'm tired of your rude whining. Please take your Champagne and your bad manners and leave us in peace."
I stood back and let him pass me, and then the cashier removed the magnetic tags from the bottles and scanned them, and he pulled a wad of cash from his wallet and paid. It was then that he made his fateful comment.
"Fucking do-gooder," he said and turned to walk away.
Now I was angry.
"I wish that one day soon you could be poor like that old lady," I shouted after him.
"Oh, dear," I heard the shop assistant say.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have said that, but he wasn't a very nice person."
"No, he wasn't.... Oh, dear!"
As she scanned my shopping, I watched her closely. She was no longer smiling and seemed slightly distracted. She seemed to be thinking about something, and I hoped my outburst hadn't offended her. This did not stop me from thinking that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. There seemed to be an otherworldly aura about her, and I was intrigued. I wished that I could spend Christmas with her and get to know her better. What better Christmas present could there be?
Just then I saw her eyes widen slightly, and just for a moment, she looked up at me enquiringly, before returning to work.
A few minutes later I paid. We bade each other Merry Christmas, and I left the store. I did not expect to ever see her again.
***
When I returned to my flat it was warm. The heating had done its job. I put my shopping away and poured myself a glass of red wine.
About half an hour later, I was planning to make myself an omelette, when the doorbell rang. I glanced up at the wall clock. It was almost a quarter to nine and I wondered who could be visiting at this hour.
I went to the door and looked through the peephole before I opened it,
I was astonished to see that it was the girl from the supermarket. I opened the door and she stood on the doormat looking at me. She was wearing a long green coat with a hood and white fur trimmings. The coat extended almost to the floor, and I could see she was wearing black-leather silver-buckled shoes. She was carrying a supermarket bag in one hand and a small leather suitcase in the other.