Christmas magic

by Bill Tiepelman

Twinkle Scales and Holiday Tales

Snow had blanketed the forest in a thick, sparkling cover, the kind of snow that made you question every life decision leading up to a trek through it. In the middle of this wintry scene stood Marla, bundled in layers of wool and bad choices, staring at the most unexpected sight she had encountered all year: a tiny dragon, glittering like a Pinterest project gone wrong, sitting under a Christmas tree. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Marla muttered, tugging her scarf tighter against the biting wind. She had signed up for a peaceful winter hike, not whatever this magical nonsense was. The dragon, no larger than a house cat, looked up from its task of adorning the tree with ornaments. Its scales shimmered in hues of emerald, sapphire, and gold, reflecting the candlelight like an overachieving disco ball. With a dramatic flick of its tail, it placed a final ornament—a suspiciously gaudy one that looked like it belonged in the clearance bin—on a frosted branch and gave Marla a slow blink. That was when she noticed the tiny antlers on its head, as if someone had tried to cross a dragon with a reindeer. “Oh great, a magical creature with holiday cheer,” Marla said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Just what I needed to make this hike even weirder.” The dragon tilted its head and chirped—a sound somewhere between a kitten's meow and a squeaky door hinge. Then it picked up a crimson ornament, waddled toward her on its tiny clawed feet, and dropped the bauble at her boots. It looked up expectantly, wings fluttering slightly, as if to say, “Well? Are you going to help or just stand there being all grumpy?” Marla sighed. She wasn’t exactly known for her love of the holidays. Every December, she battled through the chaos of last-minute gift shopping, office parties that could only be endured with copious amounts of spiked eggnog, and her family’s annual “passive-aggressive charades” night. But this… this was something else entirely. And as much as she wanted to turn around and head back to the safety of her Netflix queue, the dragon’s big, watery eyes made her hesitate. “Fine,” she said, bending down to pick up the ornament. “But if this turns into some kind of weird Hallmark movie moment, I’m out.” The dragon chirped again, clearly pleased, and scampered back to the tree. Marla followed, grumbling under her breath about how her therapist was going to have a field day with this story. As she hung the ornament on an empty branch, she noticed the tree wasn’t just decorated with the usual tinsel and baubles. Among the branches were tiny golden scrolls, clusters of mistletoe that shimmered as if dusted with real stardust, and candles that burned without melting. It was, frankly, absurd. “You’ve really committed to this theme, huh?” Marla said, glancing at the dragon. “What’s next, a tiny Santa suit?” The dragon huffed, a puff of glittering smoke escaping its nostrils, and went back to rummaging through a pile of ornaments that had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere. It pulled out a miniature star, which Marla suspected was made of actual gold, and handed it to her. She placed it on the tree’s highest branch, earning a delighted trill from her new festive companion. “So, what’s the deal?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Are you some kind of Christmas mascot? An elf’s side hustle? Or am I hallucinating because I skipped breakfast?” The dragon didn’t answer, obviously, but it did do a little twirl that sent a flurry of snowflakes into the air. Marla couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright, fine. I guess you’re kind of cute, in a ‘magical chaos’ sort of way.” As they continued decorating, Marla felt her initial irritation melting away. There was something oddly therapeutic about hanging ornaments with a glittery dragon who had no concept of personal space but an undeniable enthusiasm for holiday aesthetics. By the time they finished, the tree looked like it belonged in a fantasy novel—or at least on the cover of a very expensive holiday card. “Okay,” Marla said, stepping back to admire their work. “Not bad for an impromptu partnership. But don’t expect me to—” Her words were cut off by the sound of jingling bells. She turned to see the dragon holding a string of tiny sleigh bells in its mouth, looking entirely too pleased with itself. Before she could protest, it launched into a clumsy but enthusiastic dance, shaking the bells and twirling around the tree. Marla laughed, a genuine, belly-deep laugh that she hadn’t experienced in months. “Alright, alright, you win,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I’ll admit it—this is kind of fun.” As the sun dipped below the horizon, the tree began to glow softly, its ornaments casting a warm, magical light across the snowy clearing. Marla sat down next to the dragon, who curled up at her side with a contented chirp. For the first time in a long time, she felt a sense of peace—and maybe even a little holiday spirit. “You know,” she said, stroking the dragon’s shimmering scales, “I might actually survive Christmas this year. But if you tell anyone I got all sentimental over a magical dragon, I’ll deny it. Got it?” The dragon snorted, sending another puff of glittering smoke into the air, and closed its eyes. Marla leaned back, watching the stars emerge one by one in the winter sky, and let herself smile. Maybe, just maybe, this holiday season wouldn’t be so bad after all.     Bring the Magic Home If you fell in love with this whimsical tale, why not bring a touch of the magic into your own home? "Twinkle Scales and Holiday Tales" is now available as a variety of stunning products to suit any space or occasion. Choose from the following options: Tapestries – Perfect for transforming any wall into a festive winter wonderland. Canvas Prints – Add an elegant touch to your décor with this magical scene. Puzzles – Bring some holiday cheer to family game night with this enchanting dragon design. Greeting Cards – Send a touch of whimsy and warmth to your loved ones this season. Explore these and more at our shop and celebrate the magic of the season in style!

by Bill Tiepelman

Dragon Dreams Beneath the Tinsel

Christmas in Bramblebush Hollow was always an affair of great tradition, heartwarming cheer, and the occasional bout of barely-restrained chaos. This year, however, things took an unexpected turn when the town’s holiday spirit was set ablaze—quite literally—thanks to a pint-sized, fire-breathing dragon named Gingersnap. Gingersnap wasn’t supposed to hatch until spring, but apparently, someone forgot to inform the egg. It had been a charming gift from the Wizard Wilfred, who had neglected to mention that "keep it at room temperature" also meant "don’t leave it near the fireplace." Thus, on December 1st, the egg cracked open to reveal a tiny, jewel-toned dragon with wings like stained glass and a temperament as fiery as his breath. The Tinsel Incident It all began innocently enough. Agnes Buttercrumb, the town's unofficial holiday coordinator and resident gossip, had invited Gingersnap to "help" decorate the town square’s Christmas tree. How could she resist? With those wide, adorable eyes and shimmering scales, Gingersnap looked like a Hallmark card brought to life—an asset to any festive tableau. Unfortunately, Gingersnap misunderstood the assignment. Instead of "hanging" the tinsel, he ate it. To be fair, it did look delicious—like shiny spaghetti. When Agnes tried to retrieve the garland from his tiny, razor-sharp jaws, Gingersnap let out a hiccup of fiery disapproval, which promptly set the lower branches of the tree ablaze. “This is fine,” Agnes muttered through gritted teeth as the townsfolk scrambled to extinguish the flames. “Everything’s fine. It’s… rustic.” She patted the smoldering tree with a twitchy smile and hastily draped a few half-melted candy canes over the scorched branches. “Adds character, don’t you think?” Mulled Wine and Mayhem As the days passed, Gingersnap’s antics escalated. During the annual mulled wine tasting, he discovered that cinnamon made his nose tingle in a particularly amusing way. One sneeze later, the tasting pavilion was reduced to ashes, and the mayor was seen chasing the dragon through the town square with a ladle, shouting, “This is not covered in the bylaws!” The town blacksmith, Roger Ironpants, took a more practical approach. “He’s just a wee dragon,” he reasoned while fitting Gingersnap with a tiny iron muzzle. “If we can’t stop the fire, we can at least contain it.” But Gingersnap, ever the escape artist, promptly chewed through the muzzle and used it as a chew toy. Then came the caroling incident. Oh, the caroling incident. Silent Night? Not a Chance On Christmas Eve, the town gathered in the square for their traditional candlelit caroling. The scene was picture-perfect: fresh snow blanketed the ground, lanterns cast a warm glow, and the choir’s harmonies filled the air. Gingersnap, perched atop the charred remains of the Christmas tree, seemed to be behaving for once, his head cocked curiously as he listened to the music. But then, someone hit a high note. A really high note. The kind of note that makes dogs howl and, apparently, dragons lose their tiny little minds. With a shriek of enthusiasm, Gingersnap joined in, his piercing dragon screeches drowning out the choir and shattering half the ornaments in a fifty-foot radius. To make matters worse, he punctuated each screech with a celebratory burst of flame, igniting several songbooks and at least one unfortunate choir member’s scarf. “SILENT NIGHT, YOU LITTLE MONSTER!” bellowed Agnes as she hurled a snowball at Gingersnap, who promptly mistook it for a game and started flinging snowballs back—with his tail. Chaos ensued. By the end of the evening, the town square looked less like a winter wonderland and more like the aftermath of a particularly rowdy medieval siege. The Morning After On Christmas morning, the townsfolk gathered in what was left of the square to assess the damage. The tree was a charred skeleton. The mulled wine was gone. Half the decorations were singed beyond recognition. And yet, as they looked at the tiny dragon curled up beneath the scorched tree, snoring softly with a contented little smile on his face, they couldn’t help but laugh. “Well,” said Roger Ironpants, “at least he’s festive.” “And he didn’t eat the mayor,” Agnes added, her tone grudgingly optimistic. “It’s a Christmas miracle,” someone muttered, and the crowd erupted into laughter. The Legend of Gingersnap From that day forward, Gingersnap became a beloved—if somewhat chaotic—part of Bramblebush Hollow’s Christmas traditions. Each year, the townsfolk hung fireproof ornaments, brewed extra mulled wine, and made sure to stockpile plenty of shiny, dragon-friendly snacks. And every Christmas Eve, as Gingersnap perched atop the town’s fireproofed tree, belting out his dragon version of “Jingle Bells,” the townsfolk would raise their glasses and toast to the most memorable holiday mascot they’d ever had. Because, as Agnes Buttercrumb put it best, “Christmas just wouldn’t be the same without a little fire and brimstone.” And for Gingersnap, nestled beneath the tinsel, it was perfect.     Bring Gingersnap Home for the Holidays! Love the tale of Gingersnap, the mischievous Christmas dragon? Now you can add a touch of whimsical holiday magic to your own home! Explore these delightful products featuring "Dragon Dreams Beneath the Tinsel": Tapestry: Transform your walls with this stunning, vibrant depiction of Gingersnap. Canvas Print: Add a festive centerpiece to your holiday décor with a high-quality canvas print. Jigsaw Puzzle: Piece together the magic with this fun and challenging holiday puzzle. Greeting Card: Share the joy of Gingersnap with friends and family through this charming card. Don’t miss your chance to bring a little fire-breathing cheer to your festivities this season. Shop the collection now!

by Bill Tiepelman

A Twinkle in Santa’s Eye

Santa’s Twinkling Eye It was a snowy Christmas Eve, and Santa Claus had just slid down his umpteenth chimney of the night. Brushing soot from his suit, he adjusted his belt and took a moment to admire the cozy living room he’d entered. Twinkling lights on the tree cast a warm glow, stockings hung neatly over the fireplace, and the faint aroma of gingerbread filled the air. But something felt… different. Oddly magical. Before he could pinpoint the source of his unease, a shimmering glow caught his attention. Perched atop the armchair, with legs crossed and a mischievous smile, was a fairy like no other. Her sparkling pink dress hugged her figure, and her iridescent wings glimmered in the light of the Christmas tree. A single flower nestled in her golden curls completed the look. She radiated sass, sparkle, and just a touch of trouble. “Well, well, well,” she purred, resting her chin on her hand, “the man of the hour, all dressed up and ready to slay.” Santa froze, his twinkling eyes widening behind his spectacles. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice equal parts curious and cautious. The fairy hopped gracefully off the chair, her glittering heels clicking against the wooden floor. “Oh, don’t act so surprised, Saint Nick. I’ve been on your Nice and Naughty list for years. You’ve just never had the pleasure of meeting me in person.” “Is that so?” Santa replied, folding his arms over his jolly belly. “And which list do you belong to?” She laughed, a sound like tinkling bells, and fluttered her wings. “Depends on who’s asking. But judging by the way you’re blushing, I’d say I’m solidly in the middle.” Santa chuckled, his cheeks indeed rosy, though whether it was from the warmth of the fire or her teasing tone, even he wasn’t sure. “Well, Miss Fairy, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got gifts to deliver.” She blocked his path with a playful pout. “Gifts? Is that all you’re about? Come on, Santa, where’s the fun? You’ve been working hard for centuries—don’t you deserve a little mischief now and then?” “Mischief?” Santa asked, raising a bushy eyebrow. “I’ve got all the mischief I can handle up at the North Pole. Ever met a reindeer on a sugar rush? Trust me, you don’t want to.” The fairy tilted her head, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, please. I’ve seen you wink at elves when Mrs. Claus isn’t looking. Don’t act so innocent.” Santa gasped in mock offense. “Wink? I don’t wink!” “Mm-hmm,” she said, crossing her arms and tapping a glittery heel. “And I don’t sprinkle fairy dust. Face it, big guy, you’ve got a twinkle in your eye that could light up the entire North Pole. But don’t worry, I’m not here to judge. I’m here to help.” “Help?” Santa repeated, his curiosity piqued. “What kind of help are we talking about?” The fairy grinned and produced a tiny mistletoe wand from behind her back. “Oh, you’ll see. Let’s just say I specialize in adding a little sparkle to Christmas. Now, sit tight and let me work my magic.” Santa took a cautious step back. “Listen, Miss Fairy, I appreciate the offer, but I really do have work to do—” “Work schmirk,” she interrupted, waving her wand. Suddenly, the room filled with a shower of glittering snowflakes, each one catching the light like a tiny star. Santa’s red suit sparkled, his boots gleamed, and even his hat seemed to puff up with extra fluff. He glanced down at himself, bewildered. “What in the North Pole is going on?” he exclaimed. The fairy clapped her hands with delight. “Now that’s what I call festive! You’re practically glowing, Santa. You’ll thank me later.” Santa shook his head, trying to brush the glitter off his suit, but it clung stubbornly. “You know, Mrs. Claus is going to have questions about this.” “Mrs. Claus?” the fairy said, her wings fluttering as she leaned closer. “She doesn’t have to know. Our little secret.” Santa’s eyes widened. “You’re trouble, you know that?” “And you love it,” she replied with a wink. Despite himself, Santa laughed. “Alright, you win. But only if you promise to keep this between us. I can’t have the elves thinking I’ve gone soft.” The fairy saluted him, her expression mock-serious. “Your secret’s safe with me, Santa. Now go spread that Christmas cheer—and don’t forget to enjoy yourself along the way.” With a final swirl of glitter, she vanished, leaving Santa alone in the glowing room. He shook his head, a bemused smile on his face. “Fairies,” he muttered, adjusting his hat. “They always know how to keep things interesting.” And with that, he climbed back up the chimney, his suit sparkling more than ever, and continued his journey. But every now and then, as he delivered gifts, he’d catch his reflection in a frosted window and chuckle. The fairy had been right—there was a twinkle in his eye. And maybe, just maybe, he liked it that way.     Santa’s Twinkling Eye (A Poem) Santa came down the chimney with flair, Caught off guard by a sparkle in the air. Perched on his shoulder, a fairy so fine, Draped in glitter, wings a-shine. “Well, well,” she said with a sly little grin, “Fancy meeting you here, all covered in sin!” “Sin?” Santa laughed, adjusting his hat, “It’s soot, my dear—don’t tease me like that!” The fairy winked and tossed her hair, “You bring the gifts, I bring the flair. Who knew Saint Nick could look so spry? Careful, big guy, you’re catching my eye!” Santa blushed, his cheeks cherry red, “It’s the cocoa,” he mumbled, “gone to my head.” “Oh please,” she cooed, “I’ve seen you in action, Winking at elves with too much distraction!” “Well, Miss Fairy, you’re bold, I’ll admit, But flirt all you like, I’m too old to commit.” She giggled and perched a bit closer in place, “Just teasing, dear Santa—you’re hard to replace.” The snowflakes twirled as they shared a laugh, With mistletoe hanging from her fairy staff. “Ho ho,” he chuckled, “you’re full of surprise, But flirty fairies could lead to my demise!” She leaned in close, her lips full of cheer, “Merry Christmas, dear Santa, now bring me my beer!”     Image Archive This whimsical and enchanting holiday image, "A Twinkle in Santa’s Eye," is available for prints, downloads, and licensing through our image archive. Bring the festive magic to your own projects, whether it’s for holiday cards, seasonal decor, or creative designs! 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