Christmas Tales – The Secret Christmas Snowball Fight

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

 Snowballs were whizzing through the air in Santa’s Secret City here at the North Pole.

 Zing, zing, zing!

 Martha ducked and ran zigzags beneath the oncoming masses of snow, delivering new snow ammunition to her brave team.

 They were standing on the north-east tower of Snowball Fight Castle, bombarding their attackers like billy-o. An army of rowdy Christmas elves were threatening to kidnap Princess Sonya if only they could catch her – which would happen any minute now if the brave Knights of the Butterfly failed to protect her. Perish the thought!

 “Grrrr!” growled Martha at the attackers, and SPLAT, a snowball hit her right in the face. Darfo was taken totally unawares by the elves’ sneaky attack. He pelted snowball upon snowball at the offending group like a lunatic, but they just kept getting closer and closer – their supply of ammunition seemed endless.

 “We need a change of tactics!” Johnny yelled to Darfo.

 Martha brushed off the snow and ran back down the steps to collect more ammunition. It’s a good job she’s down there now and not up here, thought Darfo. He couldn’t bear to admit to her face that the battle was lost. Then SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, he was hit by three snowballs, lost his footing, wobbled and fell over backwards, landing two metres lower in the courtyard, right next to a big pair of black boots.

 “Huh?” he gasped, looking up. Martha was grinning down at him, standing next to someone in a red coat with a white beard.

 “Ho, ho, ho!” laughed Father Christmas, just as Johnny got hit too, falling down from the battlements into the courtyard. SPLAT! He landed in the snow.

 “Did anyone order backup troops?” smirked Father Christmas.

 Their positive thinking and determination gave them a new boost of energy and the troop stomped back upstairs, opening fire on the Elves.



Read the Book

 They smothered their opponents in a hail of snowballs. But it was no use: there were just too many of them and Princess Sonya was still in danger. Before they knew it, even Father Christmas had taken four hits to his ample tummy.

‘Drat!’ grumbled Santa, wishing he’d listened to his wife and had gone on a diet in the summer holidays. So annoyed was he that he turned his wrath on his attackers and WHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH, pelted them with a whole load of snowballs, but it didn’t make any difference – the elves just kept getting closer and closer. Princess Sonya would be lost…

 SUDDENLY a magic glow appeared in Santa’s eyes. Golden rings appeared around his feet that danced up his body, joined together around his tummy and then shot down his arms.

 The elves gasped, shocked that Santa was using his magic. Santa clapped his hands together and… the world froze as time stood still.

 The elves, Martha, Sonya, Darfo, Johnny, the reindeer, everyone, people watching telly, people taking baths, people sat on buses and even in aeroplanes in the sky – everything stood still, as though turned to stone.

 It was the same as the Christmas magic Santa Claus used on Christmas Eve, when he was whizzing about the world in his sleigh. It was the only way he could possibly have time to deliver presents to everyone everywhere. Now he was getting on in years, he’d taken on the butterflies to help him, as even his magic didn’t quite give him enough time to do everything all by himself.

 “Now let’s see who’s winning!” he called, leaping over the castle wall and covering every elf from head to toe in snow. Then he ran back to the castle, up the stairs and stood next to the butterflies before clapping his hands together again and restarting time.

 “Boo!  Hiss!  Boo!” the elves called from below.

 Darfo, Martha and Sonya looked at each other, stunned. None of the elves were throwing snowballs anymore! They freed themselves from the masses of snow and skulked away, beaten.

 “Yipeeeee!” celebrated the butterflies. They had won. They stuck their chests out and proudly marched back and forth in front of the losers.

 Mrs Claus wasn’t overly impressed by the outcome of the battle.

 “What’s wrong?” asked Santa. “You know I needed to practise for the big day!”

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