Free Christmas Short Story: If Love is a Crime

On Christmas Eve 1852, a runaway slave slips unnoticed through a meadow and happens upon a small, rustic cabin in the woods, occupied by a boisterous old woman named Beatrice. As a winter storm blows in and the sheriff comes inquiring, all that stands between the frightened girl and the arm of the law is a stack of biscuits and a whole lot of love.

Free on Kindle for a Limited Time. Get your copy HERE!


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Merry Christmas! Enjoy the “Snowflakes”

Merry Christmas, everyone. To celebrate, here’s the dramatic piece we preformed earlier this month. “Snowflakes.” If you aren’t in the mood yet, you will  be now. Enjoy!


A hushed winterland, a joyous hinterland – uncharted, crisp and clean, untouched by man or beast,

quiet and undisturbed, slowly awakened by the audible delights of a child,


with cumbersome boots sinking inches into the virgin land, unspoiled and serene, until perfectly molded footprints follow him in the snow as he sloshes every waking breath into the wonderland.

Vibrant eyes, large and bold like the static black coal of a snowman’s eye,

Pupils dilated with wide-eyed delight, writing tales of wonder on the lens of the eye.

Ruddy-red cheeks, puffy flesh, numb to the touch, indifferent to the coldness,

Warmed by the laughter and sighs and taut screams of glee directed at only one object:


Snowflakes piled in billions and trillions, each one exclusive and uncommon,

Each unique pattern its glories unknown by human eye alone,

But the beauty of the snowflake does not frame itself on the mind of a child,

It’s not the patterns or artistry which foolishly draws the child into the coldness,

It’s the possibilities that the falling, gentle crystal stars create,

Wet and heavy, big and slow, floating on the wings of the air,

Head tilted, eyes towards the heavens, listening patiently for the message, mouth oval-round, measuring the flight pattern as he catches the cold design on the tip of the tongue.

The mouth tastes the wetness, the nose smells the freshness, the cheeks touch the dampness, the ears hear the deafness, and the eyes, yes, the eyes see a kaleidoscope of light, sparkling and shifting as the sun peeks its frigid nose out from behind mile-high clouds,

Winter captures every sense, compelling the child to leap to the ground, to rest amidst the tranquil frozen sea and release the awaiting angel, ready to announce the joyous arrival.

Peace has come. Join us, let us rest, in the


for Christmastime is here.


A Vigil for a Starry (Christmas Eve) Night

On a night when the clouds cover the stars like an impenetrable mountain cliff, I wait for a sign. A small tinge up my spine. A desperate plea for the ancient ways to speak once again. I wait for the light, hoping it will come, hoping it will be enough. .

The stars, spread brightly out like colored snowflakes flickering across the onyx sky, reflect a distant constellation, and begin to re-enter the atmosphere, piercing through the fractured clouds, giving faint and distant light to the voidless black, the empty sea, the sandless desert, the vacant abyss that is deep within me. The light, hushed and dimmed by a millennium of travel, is all I have. Is all I ever had.

I wait for the reflection to reach me, hoping one refracted beam from a star long ago still exists, the same ancient light that awakened the shepherd’s eyes one cool and lonely night. Can the light that ushered in a new millennium, awaken a new epoch within me. If so, it might be enough for my heart to go on.

In the midst of tears, in the solitude of our inner being, we yearn to be on that impoverished hill, to understand the magnitude of that sight, a heavenly light illuminating a darkened heart, a heavenly chorus rising to a crescendo of glory.

Will I choose to believe its truth, not blindly though because I know what the light can do for one’s soul.  And though the unbearable pain releases not its grip, I have a question to answer. Does the light still exist for me?

Does the same sky, which God ripped open that night with his right hand, planting angelic heralds of peace on the clouds to rustle awake the shepherds, still exist for me? Can he reach into my clouded heart and announce the truth like a heavenly chorus? If it is so, all suffering and cause of angst still present throughout the world will be no match for the blessed announcement: “A Child is born.”

PERSON: This child is born.

Is this satire? – Santa Sent for Counseling

I can’t tell. I don’t think it is, but this article is so funny that I think it must be satire. And if it isn’t, it should be.

Santa Sent for Counseling

If you don’t want to click on the list, here’s the short version.

A small girl asked a mall Santa who was on the naughty list this year. The witty Santa replied “Hillary Clinton” and laughed.

Santa was replaced because of, I guess, his insensitivity, and was sent to human resources so he could get counseling.

This is too good to be true. First, I think this Santa is brilliant and deserves a raise, unless it’s satire, then the writer of the article needs a raise.

Second, it just confirms to this writer that I will not, anytime soon, run out of things to write about. Our society is full of remarkable silly stories which are the equivalent of the Holy Spirit bringing down writing inspiration from God, aka John Milton.

This is tremendous. Sad, yes. But tremendous without a doubt. I can’t wait to use this in one of my plays or stories. Santa sent to counseling. It’s too good to be true.

Thank you, society, for your never-ending inspiration. Where there is idiocy, there is a great story.

Free Christmas Story on Kindle: If Love is a Crime


On Christmas Eve 1852, a runaway slave slips unnoticed through a meadow and happens upon a small, rustic cabin in the woods, occupied by a boisterous old woman named Beatrice. As a winter storm blows in and the sheriff comes inquiring, all that stands between the frightened girl and the arm of the law is a stack of biscuits and a whole lot of love.


Free! (Limited Time!) Only on Amazon.


Merry Christmas. I hope you enjoy this poignant, heart-warming tale.

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New Show: 8 Days Away – “Tales of Wonder”

Tales of Wonder 2 is just 8 days away from its world premiere at the Penang Performing Arts Centre. I’m so excited for this show, and I’m so proud of these amazing young actors. Here’s a snippet of three of the original sketches I’ve written for the show.


Manger Talk is an adorable and poignant look at the morning after the birth of Jesus through the eyes of the animals. It’s funny. And it’s meaningful. And the hats are awesome.


I co-wrote this one with Lilian Li. It’s a funny sketch about 2 elves trying to help a terrible mall santa, but then there’s a heart-wrenching twist. I love to punch the audience in the stomach.


In this sketch, a girl gets lost in the snow and she’s visited by three angels to try to keep her awake as her father looks for her.

More to come. If you’re in Penang, don’t miss it!