story [NY Special] The Night Before

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

 

The Night Before

By Hippin_In_Hawaii  

 

 

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

 

That much was certainly true. It was quiet, so quiet, that you could even hear the dust settling. Such a profound change from the last few days, even earlier today.

 

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

 

We had hung stockings. Anna and I had been slowly slipping in small toys and trinkets, one or two a night, for weeks, and the stockings were stuffed full. We blamed the nightly largess on elves.

 

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

while visions of sugar plums danced in their heads.

And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,

had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap.

 

The kids and I were snuggled together. I choked a little at the mention of Mama. I hoped she was safe, but had no way to know.

 

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

gave the lustre of midday to objects below,

when, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

but a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

 

There had been a clatter. It had started a few days ago. I’d watched, aghast, out the window as the troops and the tanks had come up our lane.

 

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

 

Anna and I had turned pale. The insurgents must have taken the city. War was coming. Or, more accurately, war was coming back.

 

More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,

and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Dasher! Now Dancer!

Now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! On, Cupid!

On, Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch!

To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away!

Dash away all!"

 

There was nowhere to flee. We quickly gathered all the food and water we could manage, and set up house in the basement. We made a game of it, told the children that it was part of Santa’s New Plan. They’d certainly heard about the New Plan daily as part of their New Loyalty classes in school.

 

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky

so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

with the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

 

Anna had been out when the shooting started. Looking for food, something special for Christmas. The stores were all closed and had largely been looted, but she was hoping to trade with the neighbors for a holiday treat. 

 

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

 

I didn’t think we even had a roof anymore. The kids and I were still alive, and the basement was fairly intact, so we hadn’t been subject to a direct hit, but the stairway was completely clogged with rubble, and the joists above us groaned under the weight of the debris which had been our house. It was not a sound I enjoyed.

 

As I drew in my head and was turning around,

down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

 

Well, join the club! We three were well-tarnished with ashes and soot! 

 

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,

and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

 

We did have a pack of presents. We even had a wreath (the tree had been too large to get down the stairs. We’d tried.)

 

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

and the beard on his chin was as white as the snow.

 

So, here we were, snuggled together on sleeping bags, observing the holiday tradition. When I’d grabbed the book to bring down, I hadn’t really expected to be reading to my children in the basement of our bombed-out home on Christmas Eve. Not really.

 

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

that shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

 

Nancy loves the pictures of Santa. She points and laughs, oblivious to the smells of burned timbers and the ashes covering her face. This is Christmas, and she’s happy.

 

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head

soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

 

Charles is too young to understand what’s going on, but he responds to his older sister’s moods, and he’s happy too. I suppose that the three of us together, my children happy and fed, that’s my Christmas present.

 

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

and filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

 

I hear a scraping sound. My heart beats faster. Is the floor above us finally collapsing? Is Christmas Eve the night we all die? I try to keep my voice light as I finish what could be the last words I ever speak.

 

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

 

“Ed? Ed, are you here? Can you hear me?”

“Mommy!” screams Anna in delight.

“Mommy!” echoes Charles.

I can’t believe my ears. The scraping amplifies, becomes the sounds of rubble shifting, of debris being moved.

“Keep calm, everyone,” shouts the deep baritone of my neighbor Theodore, muffled by the wreckage. “We’re going to get you out!”

 

But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"

 

[HAYZINVOR_TO 0]

Santa e

[HAYZINVOR_TO 0]

Minasyannnnn

[sword456 5]

nice

[BiG.Boss.Bryan 0]

That Was good :D

[Venerable 2,967]

OMG

I can't believe that I missed this.

This is such a great story! And the verse- oh the verse is beautiful! It felt magical, how the poem rhymed, and how it progressed. 

Such a wonderful way to write a story!

I now see what they mean by "Hippin_in_Hawaii level"...