Young Writers Society

"Pops! I see something!" Darla pressed her face against the eye-piece of the telescope, her ginger hair waving in the cool evening breeze.

"Let me see!" Her older brother, Tarris, jumped out of the rickety lawn chair and shoved her aside, looking eagerly into the night sky. "It's a meteorite! I'm sure it is!"

Wilfred, who had been getting on in life, lifted himself off the picnic rug and helped his great-granddaughter stand. "Now, now, don't push your sister around, or I won't let you up here anymore." The old man's face was so wrinkled that his skin resembled an elephant's, but his age had not dampened his enthusiasm for space. Or Christmas; he still wore the same reindeer headband. "What did you see?"

"A meteorite!" Tarris guided the telescope across the sky, clearing watching something fly. "It looks weird though..."

Darla put her two little hands on Wilf's shoulders and said in her quiet voice, "I think it's the you-know-what." She winked as she named the object.

Wilfred's lips curled into a smile, and he was about to say something when Tarris interrupted. "That's just a story, silly! Meteorites are real, I learnt about them in science!"

"No it's not!" Darla protested. "The space-man is real, Pops said so!" She stamped her foot against the picnic rug for emphasis, but only the crickets noticed her.

Tarris kept following the mysterious object in the sky, muttering about bragging to his friends at school. Wilf paid no attention to him, and took Darla's hand, leading her to the telescope.

"Move aside," he said to the boy, "it's my turn now." The old man kneeled on the damp lawn, groaning as his knees struggled to hold his weight. When he leant in to see through the eyepiece, his antlers fell off.

"Here you go, Pops." Darla, being the sweet girl that she was, stood on her tip-toes and placed them back on his grey head. "What can you see?"

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Take a look for yourself. You too, Tarris. Then we better go inside, we've got to bake some cookies for Santa." Wilf pushed himself onto his feet, and looked up into the sky. He waved at a distant star, and knew someone was waving back.

Darla gasped, her eyes shining. She knew all the stories her Pops told her were true, but she'd never had any proof; now she did. It wasn't a meteorite, it was a blue box, and inside it was a skinny man in a tight suit, waving right at her.