Christmas

Struggling to break loose, Max thrust his head out through the tangle of tinsel and took a few gulps of air. From downstairs, he heard the distant chimes of Uncle Richard’s grandfather clock and counted as it struck twelve times. It was midnight. A second later, a mop of tumbling golden curls appeared beside him, followed by a scowling face. Emerging from the jumble of Christmas decorations, the fairy furiously waved two halves of a stick in front of him. A bent star dangled from the end of one of them.
‘Look at this. You’ve bust my wand, you clumsy oaf!’