Christmas

*This is what I have so far, you can let me know what you think.... (: | )

The Christmas Story

There are many classic and modern day Christmas stories told through both the written word and screenplays. Some of the stories are romantic or dramatic while others are lighthearted or comical. Write your own Christmas Story. If you were to write a Christmas story, what would it include? Remember, it is a story, so give consideration to characterization, theme (moral and/or message), setting and conflict. It can be a true story or make-believe. Or it can be a story "inspired by true events."

Your entry should include the following:

• Five or six paragraphs with a solid introduction and conclusion
• Include elements of characterization, theme (moral and/or message), setting and conflict.
• The elements are well developed and the story has a clear message/theme.
• Fewer than three spelling mistakes
• Fewer than three grammar or sentence structure issues

-Grandson and Grandfather,
-Toymaker
-wants something to commemorate the season, remember his grandfather. 
-build the first snow globe together
-How do I know all of this, you ask?

THE FIRST SNOW GLOBE

  Haven't you heard the story of the Christmas Globe?  Have you ever wondered how the age-old Christmas tradition came into being?  Well, there comes a legend from long ago, an ancient tale at that, that speaks of how one grandfather and his grandson, invented something that would change the way we decorate for the holidays forever.  And it all starts in a little Dutch village, just out side of Germany in the Alps. 

  There once was a toymaker, Alfred was his name, who owned a little shop on main street Stechpalme Stadt.  Now Stechpalme Stadt was a joyous place to live, especial around Christmas time when the Alps wore hats of snow.  The streets were always filled with carolers, praising songs of the a baby born in Bethlehem, and rosy-cheeked men and women running errands and tipping their hats to all they meet.  There were children donning mitts and scarfs, playing in the alleyways and making snow angles on the sidewalks, and horse-drawn carriages pulling merry couples all around town.  The place was also well know for their many holly trees that seemed to grow miraculously in abundance on hillsides encircling the town.  For that reason, the village was named "Holly Town" as many flocked to the area during winter to take in the sites and sounds of the season. 

  Now, you would think that everyone living in such a pleasant town would be delighted to join in walking the streets, sampling roasted chestnuts and dancing to the "boom-pah-pah" of a German accordion, but not poor Alfred, instead, we find him tinkering away in his shop, piled waist-high in unfinished toys and ones he has yet to make.  All the carving, the gluing, the hammering, the painting; it's enough to drive a grown man mad, and Alfred was of no age to exert himself with so much work. 

  Alfred was sixty-five, a ripe old soul, he was.  Toys were his specialty, his pation, his love!  But, when it came time for christmas, he was always very stumped.  Toy soldiers, dalls, whistles, drums, he'd done them all before!  He made them all out by hand, and like snowflakes, no two were exactly alike.  Being the only toymaker in all of Stechpalme Stadt, he was always swamped with ancsious parents looking for the perfect toy for little Juily and Jim.  The would pick him out and pick him dry untill there wasn't a single toy left, and then leave without even a single regret.  Did they not care? Could they not see? Were they so blinded the light of the season to even notice how deeply depressed poor Alfred must have been?  He would spend many nights alone in his shop making toys by candle-light and wondering just how he could lift himself out of his anual perdicament and mood.  He thought, just maby, that if he could just find the perfect toy, he would make it once and make no more, and leave his customers satisfide.  That was his dream, his only hope in life, to invent a toy that every child, young or old, would be delighted to find in their stocking on Christmas morning... but, no matter how hard he tried, he never could seem to find it. 

  Arnold, Alfreds grandson, saw how upset his grandfather was and asked him what was the matter.  Alfred replied saying, "Son, no matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to find the one gift everyone wants to buy." Arnold, who was sixteen at the time and had spent his intire life with his grandfather after his father died, knew Alfred very well. 
  "Grandpa, don't talk such noncene!" Alfred replied. "Chear up! Everyone in all of town knows what kind of quality the toys you make are. Why, just look at your shelve. They're picked clean, infact, their absolutly spotless! Not a single toy around!" 
  "That is exactly what I am trying to tell you..." Alfred said *Scornfully.  "I'm afraid that I am far too old for the upkeep of my establishment here in Stachpalme Stadt, and can no longer keep up with the list of toys the people here are demanding me to make. As much as I love working in the toy industry, I find it hard to give the children what they want... I hate to say this but, I think it is time I gave it rest. I must retire Arnold, there's no place in the toy market now." 
  "But, Grandpa!" Arnold sputtered.
  "No buts! You must come to understand that it is for the best of things that I throw in the towle. You wouldn't want to see me take this to the grave, now would you." Alfred paused for a moment in though, trying to think of what to say before continuing. "There comes a time when we must learn that all good things come to an end, and it's best for you and safest for me if you learn that now." 

-son thinks, there is a pause, he agrees to help him make that perfect toy. something to represent his grandfather and to commemarate the village. 

  Arnold could do nothing but stair at the dusty floorbords of his granfathers shop.  A thousand thought swirled through his head,
  "Throw in the towle? How could he? And with all the children... no, no, he couldn't!..."
   There was a moment of uncertainty expressed between the two of them, Alfred and his grandson, both of them trying to sort out what the other one must be feeling, and when they both stopped muttering and both stopped pacing, they looked up, and met each other in the eyes. 
  "Grandpa," Arnold said quietly. "I want to help you find that toy. Me and you, we can build it together. I mean, I recon I know just about as much as you about toy making; all those years of watching you paint the eyes of wooden dolls from over your sholder must be worth something!" Which was true, Arnold was getting to be very skillful in the art of toy making. Why, you might even say he was a chip off the old block! Alfred knew he was right and nodded his head slightly.
  "What do you say Grandpa? Are you with me on this?" Arnold hung on his words impationtly, as though they would fly away on him if he wasn't careful to watch where he breathed.  Alfred slowly began to speak,
  "Alfred,... I started this business on a strong note, sure footing, and great ambitions, and I want to leave it on the same... Let us build that toy! Let it be nown throughout the land just how good of a team we really are. I want to be rememberred when I come to die, I always wanted some place in history and I think this is the only chance I have to get it... Of cource I'm with you son!" 

-son thinks, there is a pause, he agrees to help him make that perfect toy. something to represent his grandfather and to commemarate the village. 

  And with that, they both began their work.  Alfred had the idea of making something that would represent the the village of Stechpalme Stadt; something with mountains and hollyand and little wooden chalets.  Arnold questioned him on how you could possably place so many fiqueriens into a single toy, but Alfred said not to worry, and that they would find a way.  And so they carved each mountain and made each hut, and when they were finished they glued them together onto a single bord and stuck little branches of holly in it.  Then, after the last twig of holly was set in place, they stood-up and look at their creation from affar saying how it just looked like a minerature Stechpalme Stadt.  But then their was the question,
  "But grandpa, how can a little girl or boy possibly play with that? Why, with all the little wooden pieces and the tiny sticks of holly, it won't even last a day, let alone make it to new years? It'll be broke even before your customer gets it home." Once again, Arnold was right. Yet, Alfred said not to worry and that they would find a way to make it work, he had another idea. 
  Alfred slipped into the back room of his shop and didn't return untill sevral hours had passed.  Arnold decided to use that time to add a couple of finishing touches to the village's model. 
  Alfred came back carrying a large glass dome in his hand in which he placed very gently onto the table next to where Arnold was sitting. 
  "Well now, what's that for?" Arnold asked *interigaitively.
  "Why, what else? Our village, boy!"
  "But,... Where'd you get it?!" Arnold sounded surprised; He had never seen a glass bowle like that before.  It was sphere-shaped, with a wide opening and had no flat bottem on it to stop it from rolling about upon the tables surface.  Alfred had to steady it with his hands so that it wouldn't fall off. 
  "Ran out and got it from the local glass blower, I did. T'Only to a minute or two to cool." Arond stated beamfully.  His cheeks were rossy and red from his walk down town. 
  "Well, no wonder you took so long! I was begining to think that the old man of the Alpes had had you for supper." Arnold was reffering to an old foke ledgend that his granfather had told him all throught his childhood, of a long-bearded elderly man with yellowed teeth and long nails, that used to eat lost children who wandered at night.  If you weren't carefull enough to watch where you were going, he would surely hear your cries for help, come find you, and gobble you up whole. 
  "You do know that I was only joking with you when I told you that story. I couldn't of had you go wandering off on me with your mother away, now could I?" Alfred said to Arnold with a smile. 
  "Oh grandpa,..." Arnold shook his head and chuckled to himself silently. "Come now, help me mount this onto our village." 
  Together, both of them hoisted the glass bubble over their village and sealed the base of it with glue. *When they had done that, the two of them stepped away from thier creation with a smiles on their faces.  Those smiles soon faded to puzzlement, and then to frowns.  Nither of them seemed happy with what they saw...

-Arnold gets angry, says it's hopeless, how is a child possibly going to have fun with that. All they can do is sit and look at it ...(or something like it)
-Alfred said it was a good try, but not quite good enough and the two of them look at the clock and head to bed. 
-Arnold gets an idea in the middle of the night (it dons on him), runs to Alfreds bedside, shakes him awake and inquiers about the whereabouts of the glassblowers shop.  He tells him, says nothing but why and hey where are you going, waves his hand in disaproval and falls back to sleep.

Archetype

1.Often in fiction, there is a heroic figure, or archetype. Discuss the characteristics of an archetype, using specific examples from literature, TV shows and/or films.

What makes a hero a hero; An archetype or role model that all can look up to?  In any sense, what is a hero?  Is it someone you can always depend on?

Archetype "Hero"

There have always been the "Classic" heroes.  You know, the ones you find that star in television series and comic books, such as superman, batman and wonder woman.  (And you already know where I stand with Spider Man.) But, are those truly an accurate portrayal of what a hero should be?  Those directors lead us to believe that heroes are people "of fiction" who walk around in tights and preform good deeds out of their own free will.  Yet, that is not so.  Look around you, their are plenty of people that qualify for heroic material rate in your own hometown.  People need to open their eyes and realise that you don't need to have x-ray vision or fly to be hero for someone.  You just need to have a good head about your shoulders to spot them out. 

Like I said before, you probably already know someone who displays heroic characteristics, maybe not within the person themselves, but in the actions they do for others.  Take for example, your local neighborhood firefighters.  They put the lives of others ahead of their own.  When they jump into the inferno of a flaming Building.  A good portion of the people on the team are volunteers, as well!  This may be an extreme of the example given above, but it certainly is an act of heroism.  Though, it does not have to be as obvious as this.  Believe it or not, you can find a hero in the most cowardly of people. 

Do you not love or have ever loved your parents?  Do you not respect them in all they do for you?  A good man, now departed once said "Honor thy mother and thy father."  If you haven't already done so, then you'd best do it today!  Take a moment to stop and think about all the things that your parents have done for you.  They raised you from the time you were born.  They fed you, cleaned you, changed all of your dirty diapers, and just when they think you've had enough, you do it all over again!  Whine and cry, sleep and poop, you've worn your parents to the break of total exhaustion!  You have probably taken several years off their life from all of the work you have put them through.  When they begin to contemplate putting you up for adoption, you finally tucker-out and fall asleep.  What a relief!  They could of best left you outside to live with the stray cats, but no, they walk you through your first years of life, raising you into adulthood.  Does that not qualify as a an act of heroism? I would hope so!

There is another problem that arises when deciding what makes a true hero, and that is: "Once a hero, always a hero?"  Hmm... Let me see. Let's say, on Tuesday, Boris Swatsningson, your topical "everyday Joe" preforms "mouth to mouth" on a drowning boy while on summer vacation at his favourite campground.  The child lives to see another day, and in gratitude for having saved her son's life, the mother decides to take her story to the town's newspaper and have an article written-up about this fine man.  The town hosts a party for the man in celebration of his heroic success in saving the child; everything is looking up for Boris. 
{Now, I want you to keep in mind your thoughts on Boris and his actions of the present. Do you think of him as a hero?} 
It is now Friday, the parties are over and the news about the man in who saved a drowning boy's life is beginning to wane, soon everyone will forget that the whole thing ever happened as it slips into the back of their mind.  Now that Boris' life is beginning to return to normal, and everything is slowing to its usual pace, Boris is becoming board.  His life is dull, so he goes out in search for more action.  In a desperate attempt to lighten his mood, Boris gets drunk, steals a police car and robs a bank, all in one night.  Now it is Saturday morning, and where do find Boris?  No, not at a banquet party, not parading around town with his head held high, we find Boris at none of those events.  Instead, there he sits, locked away in a jail cell with no one to sulk with over his life's mistakes but him self. 
{Having compared with what you thought about Boris on last Tuesday, to what you thought about now, have your views on Boris changed? Do you think that the boy thinks of Boris as a hero, as someone that he can look-up to?  How about you? ...}
I believe that heroes are only a thing to beheld by the moment.  A person can only be portrayed as being heroic for the exact second that he/she preforms his/her heroic act.  If they can't continue to uphold their heroic status, then they must revert to being a "normal" human being once again. 

Looking at this, I think that a hero, by definition, should be "a person that acts upon a particular instance using their instinct or through sheer and unbound courage to do a good dead and react to it in the appropriate manner to the given task that they must overcome."  It can be smaller yet; the little things that you say or do can add-up and have such an impact on your life and the lives of others around you.  Sometimes being a hero can just mean knowing the right thing to say to brighten someones day.  Anyone can be a hero.