This story was sent to us by Sormista Pal
Hello, dear friends! My name is Crumble, and I’m a Christmas Cake. But before I became the sweet, soft, fruity cake sitting proudly on this glowing Christmas table… I went on a magical journey through time!
Yes — time! Let me tell you my story.
Long, long ago — so long that even Santa hadn’t grown his beard yet — I began as something very different. I wasn’t soft or spongy. I wasn’t decorated with cherries or nuts. I wasn’t even called a cake!
Back in ancient times, people mixed honey, fruits, and grains into a round little loaf to thank winter for its blessings. I was called a “plakous,” which meant honeyed fruit bread. I was rough and chewy, not the crumbly beauty I am now. But people loved me because I brought sweetness to cold winter nights.
Then one day — WHOOSH!
A swirl of Christmas magic picked me up and carried me forward through time!
I landed in medieval Europe, where cooks mixed me with spices, nuts, and dried plums. They called me a plum cake, even when I didn’t have plums. Funny, right? I didn’t mind — I loved the warm smell of cinnamon and cloves filling the kitchen.
Christmas back then had no twinkling lights or jingling bells, but families gathered around their hearths, and I brought smiles to their faces. That made me feel warm… even before baking!
Then — ZAP!
Another burst of magic sent me spinning again.
I landed in Victorian England, where everything looked grand and fancy. Kitchens were full of copper pots and wooden spoons. And guess what? People soaked fruits in sweet juices for weeks before baking me! I felt like a royal dessert.
They added butter, flour, sugar — oh, what sweetness! For the first time, I became rich, soft, and truly delicious. Families covered me with snowy white icing and placed me at the center of their Christmas feast.
I sparkled. I shone. I might’ve even blushed under the icing!
I thought my journey was complete… but then —
POOF!
I was carried forward once more.
This time, I arrived in modern times, right here in your home. Oh, what a magical sight! Twinkling fairy lights, stockings on the walls, Santa stickers on the fridge, and the smell of cinnamon everywhere.
Your mother mixed me with love.
Your father placed cherries carefully on my icing.
And you — you placed the tiny edible star right in my center.
That’s when I realized something wonderful:
No matter where I traveled, no matter what shape I took, I was always meant to bring joy, warmth, and togetherness.
As you sit around your Christmas table tonight, look at how everyone is smiling. How everyone shares. How everyone waits before cutting me. You see, I may be just a cake…
…but I carry centuries of love.
I’m not here only to be eaten (though I admit, I’m very tasty!).
I’m here to remind you:
Christmas isn’t about how fancy the cake looks…
but about the love that mixes the batter,
the hands that decorate it,
and the hearts that share it together.
Because the real sweetness of Christmas doesn’t come from sugar —
it comes from family, kindness, and being together.
The End!
Very nicely written.Loved to read it.
Thank you very much.your inspiring words help me to do better and better.