Category: fiction

Christmas Secrets and Memories by docweasel

It was a quiet night. No wind, no rain, no moonlight. Not a night normally associated with spirits and mysticism. Just a quiet, spring night. Clarissa laid across her bed, reading. She was preoccupied and distracted, and her mind wandered out of the story as her eyes continued drifting over the pages, without really seeing. She was thinking of something her Mother had told her, years ago. Remembering.

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Geese and the Snowstorm

There was once a man who did not believe in either the virgin birth of Christ nor the spiritual meaning behind it, and was skeptical even about God. He lived in a farm community. It was a poultry farm, with ducks and chickens, and a large flock of geese, which were the man’s pride.

He had no family of his own. He lived with his housekeeper and her two small children.

His housekeeper was a devout believer and diligently raised her children in the faith. He sometimes ridiculed her piety and mocked her religious observances.

“It’s all nonsense — why would God lower himself and become a human like us? It’s such a ridiculous story,” he said.

Even though he was not religious, he loved Christmas. Of all the fowl, he loved goose the best. And Christmas was the day the housekeeper would make his favorite meal.

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Magic Tapestry

The brand new pastor was newly assigned to his first ministry. He was to reopen a church in a run-down part of the big city. He and his housekeeper arrived in late Autumn excited about their opportunities.

When they saw their church, it was very neglected and needed much work. They resolved to have everything done in time to have their first service on Christmas Eve.

They and some volunteers from the parish worked hard, refinishing pews, plastering walls, painting, etc. A week before Christmas they were ahead of schedule and just about finished. The next day a terrible tempest with a driving rainstorm hit the city and lasted for several days.

The next day, the morning before Christmas Eve, the pastor went over to the church. His heart sank when he saw that the roof had leaked, causing a large area of plaster to fall off the front wall of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit, beginning about head high and going up several feet toward the raftered ceiling above.
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Reindeer Games

The reindeer stood unshivering in the sub-zero temperatures of the barn, harnessed and ready for the annual flight.

The flight that defied both time and space, that tested them to the extreme of their stamina, that strained each one of them to the limit of their endurance and strength. After such a flight it took an entire year for the reindeer to recover.

The reindeer communicated without speaking, a communion of minds, a shared memory and life-experience, for they had been born together, and had never been apart since. They had no need of words, they spoke with their hearts, each hearing the thoughts of the others as plainly as if they were spoken aloud.

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Peace on Earth

Three millennia had passed since the first Christmas. The old pagan gods of war were long forgotten. Only the rocks and a few bristle-cone pines could reflect back on that horrific history entire, from the lonely birth of an unknown babe, to the great Pax Humana.
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Gift of the Magi

They were newlyweds, and poor in all but love. For the first year, that was enough.

For the second, a tightness came to her face, and he looked a bit less elegant, with his thrice turned cuffs. He looked a bit pathetic, going from one place of business to another looking for work after he lost his job at the bank.

She smiled less and they stopped talking of having children, having them soon, anyway. He made due with patched shoes and shiny, threadbare suits. She mended her dresses and tried to be patient with staying home every night of the week and week-ends too, when they used to dance four nights of the week and dine out three before they were married.

All that remained of his former affluency was his heavy gold watch, the pride of his family for generations. Even in his impoverished state, he was always reassured when he pulled it out, hefted it in his hand, the ever true timekeeper. Somehow, it made him feel a little better.

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Christmas Candy

They were very poor. The mother worked very hard, but somehow there was never enough food for the little girl, let alone the mother.

Even the rats and roaches that tormented their first months in the shabby room had left them alone now, for there was nothing in the house to eat.

The mother looked at her child’s hunger-drawn face, and felt despair at ever having enough to fill out those cheeks, bring light to those beautiful eyes. She herself had not had a real meal in over a year. And now it was Christmas, and she had no job, and no food, and they were starving.

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Story of the Magic Snowman

It was the first real snowfall of the year, one that stuck and piled up drifts. It had snowed for three days straight, deep and firm snow, the kind that packed easily and made good snowballs and igloos. The snowplow raised four-foot ramparts on both sides of the streets, instant forts for children to defend, mountains to brave, great walls of China to explore.

The Babsley twins, looking like panda bears in their goose-down filled snowsuits, toddled after their sister Belinda. She was older by 2 and one half years. She was their idol, they adored her and followed her everywhere.

“Well, if you babies must come with me, then try to keep up. We will miss all the best coasting.” she exhorted the mightily struggling mites, who ran as fast as their chubby, padded legs could go to match Belinda’s pace.

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Ice and Snowman Cometh

Little Bobby was so excited he couldn’t even shut his eyes, let alone sleep. The sounds of the night were muffled by the falling snow outside his bedroom window. The silent night was broken only by the soft, sweet breathing of his little brother and baby sister, her crib pushed into their room to make way for uncles, aunts and cousins in the nursery.

Bobby clutched his Teddy tightly, and strained his ears for a jingle of sleigh-bells, a tread of hooves on the roof, a rush and rustle in the chimney stack.

Only this week, that bad boy Danny Rawls had been teasing him and taunting that there was no Santa, that Santa was a lie. But Bobby refused to believe Mommy would tell him such a fib. Santa was too good, too generous, to beautiful and wonderful not to exist.

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Christmas Tree

The young pine tree stood holding his branches out as if in supplication. Indeed, he was soundlessly praying, if a tree can be said to do so, to whatever gods or druids or faeries to which a pine tree would pray. He was praying the harvesters would reach his rank and row today, tomorrow at the latest.

For it is the week before Christmas, and unless he is taken quickly, he will be too late for this season. Perhaps he might have too propitious a Spring and Summer, with much sun and rain and life-giving humus. Then he might grow too large to be considered quite suitable for a Christmas tree. His pith sank at the thought, and he pushed it away and continued his matins to the pine tree Jesus, or Buddha, or Allah- to whatever the wood-folk present their heart-wood’s desire.

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