Winter Story - Competition

Miss RogueMiss Rogue Member Posts: 41
edited December 2015 in General Frontier Discussion

Tell us your Magical Winter Story!

The editors of the Frontier Times are eager to hear your greatest winter stories. We will publish the best ones in the Frontier Times and give in-game rewards to the best of the rest.

Post yer story here! And if you want, go post it also onto our FB page:


  • gizzlegizzle Member Posts: 2
    'Twas the night before Christmas on Compass Point: West,
    Loving my posse because they're the best!
    My IRL family was nestled in bed,
    While visions of posse points danced in my head.
    So away to the map I flew like a flash,
    Sent out my sidekicks to take out the trash.
    More rapid than eagles the cattle cars came.
    I cheered on our Posse and called them by name:
    Go, Ozlan! Go, Blacky! Go, sweet MissyT!
    On, Mongo! On, TokinBear! Go, Snomunki!
    The cattle are waiting! The reindeer are stalled!
    Rustle them, rustle them, rustle them all!
    And I heard them exclaim as they brought them all in:
    Happy Christmas to all! Let's do it again!

    By Gizzle
    Posse: OiOiOi
    Bluef1Miss Rogue
  • RichardRaeRichardRae Member Posts: 1
    It was one of the bleakest Christmas Eves that the bustling little Frontier town had ever known.

    Everyone had gathered at the Saloon for the annual Christmas Feast, but things hadn’t gone as planned. Jeb had tried all day to catch the designated Christmas goose to fill full of stuffing, but the goose had pecked the heck out of Jeb and skedaddled out of town. Allie-Mae had been baking her famous pies and cakes all day, but two of them fell out of the windowsill into the snow and were ruined, and her breads and cakes all fell due to the spell of weather. Mr. Goods had tried to come to the rescue, but the barn where all his imported food was had burned down in a recent raid.

    But everyone gathered at the Saloon anyway. After all, it was Christmas Eve, and the punch the barkeep made was always good. Sally brought out a fruitcake she’d made. “Better’n nothin’,” she said. “Sheriff, you want to do the honors?”

    The Sheriff tried to slice the fruitcake, but the knife bounced off. He eyed the cake suspiciously. “How long you had this cake, Sally?”

    “Shoot! I made it last year. They never go bad.” “Don’t look like they’re ever GOOD, either, Sal,” the Wrangler snorted.

    “Perhaps we should approached this strategically,” James Spencer muttered. “Well, throwing money at this problem will definitely solve nothing,” remarked Mr. Wealthy.

    “I got an idea!” shrieked the Forty-Niner. “Jakob, do me a favor and let me borry your brace-and-bit!” Mr. Ammann handed him the hand drill, and the Forty-Niner used it to drill a hole in the fruitcake. “What are you doink?” the Ranger said in her Russian accent. “You plannink on roasting it on spit?”

    “Naw! Watch this!” The Forty-Niner suddenly pulled out a small stick of TNT and stuck it in the hole he’d drilled. “ Yee-haw!! Fire in the Hole!”

    Everyone in the Saloon screamed and ran for cover, and seconds later the small charge went off, sending chunks of fruitcake everywhere, embedding the pieces in the walls and tables.

    “Not an optimal result, I’d say,” the Pinkerton Agent muttered, frowning as he poked a finger through a hole in his derby that a piece of cake had bored.

    “You wasichu are crazy,” the Mercenary said, shaking his head. “Agreed,” the Shaman said.

    Allie-Mae burst into tears. “Cain’t nothing go right tonight? This is awful!”

    As everyone sighed in despair, the Deputy burst into the Saloon. “Hey, Folks!! Git outside! There’s somethin’ you all need to see!”

    Everyone went outside and stared. A green-painted covered wagon with a red cover had appeared in front of the saloon.

    “Don’t know where it came from,” the Deputy said, “I was lookin’ around from the watchtower and next thing I know, it was right here.”

    Jeb pulled his guns and the Tin Man stepped forward. “Stay back, everybody. We need to see what’s goin’ on.”

    As they opened the wagon, everyone’s mouths dropped open. The wagon was filled wirh roast turkeys, kegs of the best firewater and sarsaparilla, and cakes, cookies and candy of all kinds.

    “Oh land sakes!” Allie-Mae said. “Our Christmas Eve is saved!”

    As everyone began to unload the wagon, the Gatling Gunner said, “Who do you ya think brung this to us? Huh? Huh?”

    “Maybe Santy Claus?” the Tin Man said, as he scratched his head. “I did see what I thought was somebody running away from the wagon,” the Deputy said. “But he was gone in a flash.” “Never mind, y’all,” Jeb said with a grin. “Whoever did this, deserves a whole passle of thanks! Let’s have a real hoedown! Merry Christmas to everyone!”

    As the whole town laughed, danced, enjoyed their feast and sang carols, a dark figure peered in the Saloon window unseen, and smiled to himself. He quickly glanced around- his reputation would be ruined if anyone saw him smiling, let alone figured out who had been so generous to the revelers. But with his mission accomplished, Orville Driller wiped a tear of happiness from his eyes and left the townsfolk to their celebration. “Merry Christmas to you all,” he said.

    Bluef1Miss Rogue
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