Hello again, do I have a Christmas tale for you.

It’s your favourite Storyteller here, bringing you the kookiest, most heart-filled tales that have ever been created by man’s notebook.

Full of imagination and always containing what it is, to live a life fully. No more so than this tale right here. He-he, it’s a real doozy.

I adore Christmas for many reasons, while I have known the petty rags of poverty, I have been most lucky to scrape a living out of telling and creating stories. They are powerful and wonderful and life-enriching wondrous things. I hope my passion shines through, so much so, that you cannot help but agree.

How could you not?
If you’ve read the previous thirty tales, you may even like my stories more than I do and isn’t that a thing of boundless glory?

Stories, as well as Christmas time, allow us to be better than we are. They really reveal what we are made of and do go some way to revealing where our lives might head towards…I must stop here, the story is yet to start and I’m going to give away the ending. This is no good, silly old me. Bad Storyteller, it’s so easy to get carried away when you are excited for what lies ahead.