Writes of Winter Short Story - Creative Non-Fiction

We're excited to share the stories that have been submitted for our Writes of Winter contest! We received five submissions:

Winner: A Red Deer Christmas, 1994 by Mickey Derbyshire

Runner Up: Snowglobe Memories by Melanie Holland

On The South of Red Deer by Sierra Wilson

A Winter and Christmas Story by Donald Raincock

White Christmas by Hector Apita

Winner - Short Story Non-Fiction:

A red Deer Christmas, 1994

by Mickey Derbyshire

One Christmas kindness found us in small moments — from neighbors, teachers, and even classmates — each one a gift all its own.

The season began with an empty corner in our living room. Normally, that spot glowed with our Christmas tree covered in handmade ornaments from friends. But that year, only a tired lamp stood there.

Mom stood looking at the empty space, brushing her hair behind her ear the way she did when she was fighting tears. Dad had been working long hours, trying to make ends meet, but money kept falling short.

I hugged her. “We’ll still have a good Christmas,” I said softly, hoping it would help. She smiled, but I saw the sadness behind it.

We bundled up for school. My little brother’s coat zipper was broken, so Mom pinned it shut. Outside, our boots crunched through the frosty Red Deer streets. My older brother’s boots slapped at the heels with every step — flapping like they were trying to talk to us. We couldn’t help but laugh, our giggles echoing through the crisp morning air.

At school, my teacher asked who already had their Christmas trees up. Hands shot up everywhere. Mine stayed still. He looked over at me, “What about you, Michelle? Do you have your tree up yet?”

I quietly responded, “No tree this year, Mr. Bartel. We couldn’t afford one.”

The class fell silent. Heat rushed to my face — until a voice from the back spoke up with surprising warmth.

“We have an extra tree you can have.” It was Jeff Ratsky. No pity, no hesitation — just kindness. Something inside me eased.

At recess, a teacher noticed my brother struggling to keep his coat closed. When I explained that the zipper was broken, she said, ‘Bring it to me after recess, I’ll fix it.’

I stood there, surprised by her kindness. I went to thank her, but she simply gave a gentle wave and knowing smile before turning to walk away.

By the end of the day, she handed back the coat with a perfectly sewn zipper. When my brother put it on, his bright, relieved smile felt like a gift of its own.

That evening, Dad picked up the tree Jeff had offered. It was crooked, patchy, and honestly one of the ugliest trees we’d ever seen. But we set it up and decorated it with our treasured handmade ornaments, and when the lights flickered on, that magical feeling of Christmas f illed the room. On Christmas Eve, after the candlelight service, we returned home to find wrapped gifts beneath our little tree. Our neighbor Ivy had slipped in to leave them while we were gone, creating magic without ever asking for recognition. That year, kindness came not in grand gestures, but in small, thoughtful moments. Even now, I remember that little, lopsided tree— a reminder that Christmas isn’t about perfection or gifts, but the love and light that fills our homes. That’s a Christmas I will never forget.

Runner Up:

Snowglobe Memories

by Melanie Holland

A childish grin spreads as the first snowflakes swirl down. Snippets of winter's past are fleeting, memories drift in and out. I wish I could capture the wonder in a tangible way.

Imagine, a shelf full of snowglobes that holds the best of times. A little shake of the ornament
as a reminder of all the beautiful moments of the season.

I spy one with a fine layer of dust, the year is 1985. I gently turn it over as I uncover the scene. My sister and I are bundled up from head to toe, snow boots crunching, eagerly waiting for my Dad to finish our igloo. Cheeks are rosy, noses are numb as we crawl into our special snow fort, sheltered from the wind. The cave was roomy enough for Dad to join us, magic and warmth filling that space.

One globe, set apart from the others, intrigues me. My sister and cousins are running outside in t-shirts and shorts while the sidewalk is covered by brightly colored chalk.

Hopscotch, flowers and rainbows give the false feeling of winter. The Harley is parked in my Aunt’s driveway and every blade of brown grass is crunchy - not a lick of moisture. Is this winter? It must be, as I can see the Christmas tree in the bay window, plastered with lights,
tinsel, and Mickey Mouse decorations. I could almost smell the turkey and stuffing. I remember this, and I haven’t seen a Christmas like this since.

A cluster of snowglobes emit a glow of multicolored colours, as I reach for them I instantly recognize the scenes. Downtown Red Deer, every bush and tree are twinkling bright in the city park. Light Up The Nights is in full swing. People, young and old, wander through
the city gardens in awe, and also take the time to take family photos. The line up to see Santa is long, but the hot cocoa keeps us warm and watching strangers pass us and friends greet us, the time goes quickly. Jolly old Santa welcomes us and I can see the twinkle in his eye, it must be the real Santa!

Winter sports are not my forte, but I can see a plethora of winter snowglobes at Bower Ponds when I was young. Just like my parents took me, I took my daughter tobogganing down the hill and watched her try skating for the first time. Unsure of her footing, Abby wobbles and wibbles, stepping instead of gliding. Soon enough I can see her letting go of her Dad’s hand. Abby is able to take several steps, her smile growing by the minute.

The snowglobe collection will keep me warm during cold, lonely times and I look forward to adding even more wintery memories.

On The South of Red Deer

by Sierra Wilson

I love this time—early morning in winter when the sun comes up soft and pale, like it’s still half asleep, considering going back to bed.

My kids are all bundled into the car as we take the 2A south toward Penhold.

Even though it’s freezing, I stop and stop again, snapping pictures of the pastel sky. Soft yellows, muted blues, pale pinks and oranges, all blend together with the whiteness of winter.

As we cross the river, mist rises up, billowing over the bridge. Water still flows beneath the cloudy swirls. It’s beautiful. A stark kind of majesty.

And then, as we come up the ridge, we see it—the wintry sun at last making itself fully known, a brilliant ball of red-orange rising over the sleeping fields. The trees come alive with sparkling frost and everything is still with wonder.

A Winter and Christmas Story

by Donald Raincock

The cold prairie air is normal around here for November , fingers tips freezing while out running two Labradors. These two don’t seem to mind the cold . Running down the trail and across the field . Just having fun.

The corner cafe is a welcoming sight , hot coffee thaws out my fingers. All decorated inside and out , and Christmas tree in the corner. It’s old time charm.

The arena parking lot next door is full and the young hockey teams are taking to the ice. No one seems to mind the cold. The spirit of sport is alive in that arena.

Winter has locked down the fields , with the ground now solidly frozen. Mule deer can be seen near the edge of town in a farm field. I am happy to live here, with all of that going on and the PBR Red Deer Classic coming up soon in Jan 31, 2026 .

The most important part of getting ready for Christmas was family time together putting up the tree. The tree decorating brought the joy of inclusion and interaction of all our family members. We all participated in finding an old decoration saved from many years ago. They had been packed in individual small boxes and then tucked into a larger cardboard box. Memories of Christmas past brought out , while we drank a cup of eggnog.

The order of what decoration type goes on the tree was taught to us by our parents. They learned it from their parents and then passed that to us. To start I remembered that tinsel goes on last and the angel or star goes on the top of the tree first. My older sister made sure we maintained the order of decorating. If not done right she reminded us which way it goes up.

Each ornament placed on our tree represented a family story , each brought out old feelings . In the back of our minds we knew of the joy that Christmas brings. We knew of the Christmas spirit ensuring that we shared our winter cheer. As a family we were closer to each other in a way that was different than the rest of the year. Somehow the best in us came out. Table manners were minded, and round table discussions occurred during meals together. Dressing up and visiting relatives nearby widened our realm of glee.

Our Christmas tree arrived when Dad came home with it a few days before Christmas Day . He set it up in a tree stand , making sure the tree was standing straight. He walked around the tree and looked at it from many angles . My mother would say , “that looks good now Norm”! That’s when Dad would stop checking to see if the tree was up straight. Then he with put water in the tree bowl. Watching Dad nurture that tree made me think . He worked on the railroad for the CPR , and he was gone from home a lot . Sometimes it would be a week before we saw him again, but today here he was at home nurturing the Christmas tree.

Ginger bread cookies , short bread cookies, cashews and peanuts, Japanese oranges, candy canes , chocolate covered peanuts, and hard Christmas candy could be found in small trays and bowls in the living room. Home made apple cider in a container on the kitchen counter. Eggnog in the refrigerator. There was never a shortage of Christmas cake either . I would sample this and that , then make another go round in about 20 minutes .

A few days before Christmas Eve , the family began decorating the Christmas tree. Before that, the tree seemed bare to us all , plain as it was , standing in the snow bank just outside the front porch. Of course we were remembering the past years Christmas tree and comparing that memory to this tree in the snow bank. That’s where Dad had put it to keep the tree from drying out. I could smell the fir tree after it had warmed up when brought inside the house. It’s scent reminded me of the forest where it came from. I associate that wonderful scent to good memories of Christmas now many years later as an adult . Memories of Christmas pop into my head. The singing of Christmas carols while walking home from school . We sang silent night, twinkle twinkle little star , and three kings . I loved my little brother , I thought that we would grow old together , sit at a table and remember our lives together, but that was not to be . My brother became like one of the Christmas ornaments , a precious memory.

The bubble light string was put on the tree , they were the newest type of decoration then ,giving the tree a modern look in 1951. That was the year my older sister was born. She was the first baby in the family , welcomed and loved deeply. Later on two years later, I was born. All of us kids were born in January. As a kid I didn’t fully understand what that meant. I just thought that it’s our birthday month , kind of convenient to be fully 6 years old to enter grade one kind of thinking. Of course later on I dared to question our birth month with Mom. I never got a straight answer.

I saw my sister differently, my sister always used her older age to advantage and I was required to follow along. She knew that the lights had to go on the tree before any other decorations. Dad would test each string of lights before they went up on the tree. I think he did that after he discovered, years ago, that when one string of lights didn’t work after it had been put on the tree , the work to remove it from the tree was extensive and delayed the joy of seeing the tree in it’s beautifully decorated state. We never really new what Dad was thinking , he barely said a whole sentence to get his point across , as he thought. As an extension of that we kids came to our own individual conclusions about what was the right thing to say or do. We were “ free range kids” . I think our parents liked it that way , because they never knew what to expect from us always . The only rule was to come home at dark. Well we did , most of the time . The exception was when the gang of neighbourhood kids were together playing some game we invented. Somehow the darkness of night brings out the mischievous of the child.

So with each bulb checked and each string of lights working Dad took on the responsibility of adorning the tree with the lights . He put them on the tree in a spiral around the tree ending near the top so the star would be illuminated. I recognized that the top of the tree was kept for really important stuff that had to have it’s own illumination.

I would stare at the bubble lights in wonderment. I thought to myself, “ how does it make those bubbles inside the bulb “? Where do the bubbles come from?

The garland was wrapped around the tree leaving drooping sections along the way around . The garland made of popcorn was fun to make and then hang on the tree. Often the popcorn bits would go missing during the week heading to New Years Day. Hanging the multiple Christmas cards on the wall line back of the Christmas tree made us feel that the sender of each of those cards was here with us on Christmas Day.

Ornaments can be so fragile . I dropped a few while trying to place the hook on the Christmas tree branch. These ornaments were round shaped glistening with various colors . There with a few in the likeness of doves, tin soldiers, reindeer, and Santa. I liked the imitation white doves. They reminded me of the many birds and animals I brought home to my room to bring back to life. They had died previously somehow , I never knew, but then I never really knew what death meant as a young kid. I thought if I got them warm and fed them water they would live again. My mother knew what I was doing and she lovingly let me care for them. Mom asked me to burry the animal, when the dead squirrel started to have maggots crawling inside of it while laying in a spot I made for in the back entry to the house.

Candy canes were placed at a height on the tree limbs such the youngest child could reach them. None of us kids could resist sneaking a candy cane everyday sometimes several times a day. Mom always had extra candy canes reserved in a hiding spot high up in the kitchen . She would redecorate the Christmas tree while we were outside. We knew there were more canes on the tree when we came inside , and we never questioned where they came from. The cane shape adorned with a red and white spiral of hard candy it’s entire length was like a lure to me , irresistible as it was .

Next was the placement of angel hair around the lights . There must have been a lot of angels donating hair , because every household and every store window used it in their decorations! It looked like snow had settle there.

“Imitation Icicle’s were placed on the outer most part of the branches of the Christmas tree”, my sister said. I tried out a real icicle once, and found out “ that wasn’t going to work unless we moved the whole tree outside”, I thought. . I promoted the idea to my parents but the tree stayed indoors. They said the snow falling off the roof would wreck the tree. We did have a lot of snow pile up out there , so understood their concern completely. It gave a window to another idea .

I climbed up on the roof to shovel the snow off. While up there I decided riding the snow blocks off the metal roof would be fun . Some icicles were made of a thin spiral metal and shiny colouring of red blue or silver. Tinsel was added at this point to the branches. This made the tree look very pretty inside the house.

The tree stand had a bowl at the bottom to hold water for the tree . “This kept the tree from drying out during its stay in the house from Christmas Eve until NewYears Day”, my sister said. I made sure that water was topped up everyday, right to the brim. This may or may not have been the cause of the puddle under the tree. I knew that cats like to pee around trees , so our cat , Fluffy, was just like any other cat. Fluffy was banned from the living room that week, and I kept watering the tree to the brim.

The tree was completely dressed by the time Christmas Eve arrived . The family gathered together in the warmth of that living room. The Christmas tree is where we greeted each other in a way that only kids understand . We were together , suffering the same time wait until we were allowed to open our presents under our tree the next morning.

We awoke first before Mom and Dad on Christmas morning. As children of the ages 8, 10 and 12 years of age, we knew it was Christmas morning because our inner alarm clock in our heads ended our sleep early from Christmas Eve.

There were a few gifts already under the tree on Christmas Eve , but someihow by Christmas morning more gifts appeared under the Christmas tree. We sort of believed that Santa brought them , but we also believed our Mom and Dad had a hand in it. Gifts would come from our grand parents too. I often thought of them on Christmas Day so far away. I wondered what Christmas was like for them. I was happy to open these specially sent gifts . I didn’t know if they came by mail or some other way. “Did Santa bring them from our grandparents”, I wondered.

On Christmas Day Mom was busy in the kitchen most of the day. Us kids were busy enjoying our gifts in the living room. This day filled our hearts with love for our family both near and far away. Especially for Mom who was making something that smelled really good in the kitchen.

Christmas season is a special time of the year , where cold weather and shortened daylight brings us all closer. Even in the Southern Hemisphere, where Santa wears shorts and T shirt with sun glasses and a sun hat. Our struggles are common , but laid to rest for a time . Our focus changes to those closest to us. Our family , and our community, including those of other countries. We need each other to have the lives that we live today .

Merry Christmas and let peace and prosperity come to us all .

A special tribute goes out to one of my Red Deer friends, Sheena, who shares wonderful pictures of the work that Jack Frost creates on her window every winter. The scenery created in frost is amazing . Thank you

White Christmas

by Hector Apita

White Christmas by Hector Ador Apita I was born and raised in a tropical country devoid of snow and winter, where the climate was perpetually hot, humid, and wet.

Consequently, experiencing snow, particularly during Christmas, was our aspiration. My late father would often sing The Christmas Song, popularized by Nat King Cole, followed by White Christmas, written by Irving Berlin, which my siblings and I eagerly anticipated.

Initially, I believed White Christmas was exclusive to the United States, but by Grade 3, I learned it occurred globally, provided there was snow. Following each rendition, I would express my desire to my father, saying, "Dad, one day I'll have a White Christmas." He would reassuringly respond, "Of course you will! Study hard, and it will come true."

Twenty-eight years after that conversation, I fulfilled my dream. I relocated to Canada on August 27, 2012, and eagerly awaited the snowfall.

And After 24 years, and 23 winters, I have continued to sing White Christmas.

To me, White Christmas transcends the mere presence of snow; it symbolizes perseverance and the promise of brighter times ahead, even amidst adversity.

The soft, powdery snow brings solace to my weary soul. I will forever cherish the dream of a White Christmas.

“May your days be merry and bright ; And may all your Christmases be white” - Irving Berlin