Tag Archives: winter

Christmas Miracles

Although it was only 5 o’clock, it was already pitch black. A chill went through the world. Small stars illuminated by the new lampposts fell from the heavens to purify the earth. Snow had always been beautiful. There were lights on the houses: shaped like sleighs or reindeers in the garden. Selena thought about Santa; how, as a child, she had dreamed of going in his magical flying sleigh. It made her laugh a short, sad laugh. She didn’t believe in anything now.
“Dear Santa, for Christmas this time, I just want a family.” Like that had ended well…

Two years ago, around that time, that wish had finally been granted: a family, with a mum, a dad and a brother had wanted her. She got to spend Christmas with them and get to know them: the mother was very perfectionist, she wanted everything to always look and be its best; the father was an engineer and his study was full of blueprints and models; the brother was 11 years old, 3 years younger than she had been at the time. He liked cars and robots and shooting and racing video-games: the best game was one where you could race AND shoot at the same time. Selena had been a young girl, happy to be out of the orphanage at last, with her own room and private space. But she liked being alone, she did art and read books (and wrote a few story ideas but they never lasted). Selena was an indoorsy person: she didn’t like going out and doing stuff.
Selena and her family turned out to be very different from each other and she could never be perfect enough for her very demanding mother: her results at school (though quite good) were not high enough, she didn’t spend enough time with her family preferring her room, she didn’t play with her brother (who, in her defence was 3 years younger than her (and a boy)), she didn’t go out with her friends (who were also indoorsy and they already saw each other every day), she didn’t have the perfect boyfriend (she didn’t even have a boy friend: she went to a girls school). These differences created a gap in the new family: a crack that got wider and wider until her mother finally told her that “the orphanage is a good place you know, you have friends there, people like you, who understand you. You don’t really belong here, I think you should go back” after which Selena burst into tears. All her life she had tried to be loved, to find a family who would care for her, to be normal, to belong. She hadn’t even lasted a year. It was so hard to be loved for what you were. She had been told that God gave everyone what they deserved to have, that she deserved to have a family and that she would get one. Selena stopped believing in God. And Santa. She believed in luck and at that point she believed that she was the unluckiest person in the world.
Paperwork was done and Selena was Returned. Back to the orphanage. Back to the people who had failed but by that time, it was this time of the year again, almost Christmas. She spent it with the care workers and the unlucky children, the ones God apparently deemed Unworthy, the ones who got to stay.
But things change and this year was different: this year she is spending Christmas with her best friends, the ones who supported her all along, the ones who go through the hardships with her, who help her with things big and small, who’s smiles are the first and brightest things she sees every morning and the last things she sees in the evenings, the ones who never gave up on her. Because, blinded by her selfishness of wanting to be be like others, she couldn’t see that God had already given her the best family she could have, and that she was the luckiest person in the world, she could be whoever she wanted to be. And she realised “I shouldn’t want to be like other people, other people should want to be like me”.
And so she laughed at herself, for being so naïve and not knowing that she had everything she needed. She smiled and sang softly merry Christmas songs and she didn’t feel the cold because the place she was walking to was warming her heart.
And so she sang to the snow and the decorations and the light, knowing that she was going Home.


I wrote this for my friend last Christmas, when my tumblr blog was not much and this one nonexistent. It’s not even on tumblr yet (though I only revived that today) but it’s near the beginning of the summer long waiting list of “things that aren’t on tumblr yet”. Hope you like it 🙂

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Posted by on 22 June 2014 in Banzaï


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Speakeasy #157 – After The Storm

Winter seemed reluctant to release it’s hold in Anna’s heart, the healers tried everything they could yet she showed no sign of life.

“Maybe it will get better when spring comes around” says one of them, encouragingly.

I look outside at the snow storm and despair, “it looks as if spring has given up on us” I answer.

“Well, there is no more we can do for today. We will come back tomorrow”.

I cannot show them how desperate I am, I can’t let them know how much I fear that she will not live that long, so instead I say the only thing I can:

“thank you”.

Anna I fear that the child inside you is causing all of this, I fear that the source of our joy this winter is taking all your heat and energy in the comfort of your womb and not leaving enough for you. The spells of the healers are all around you yet I fear it will not be enough. Nothing can protect from yourself, or from what is, at the moment, a part of you, deep inside. In that fortress it keeps safe but I can’t keep YOU safe. I will stay by your side all night…

…. I wake up with a jolt, when did I fall asleep? Everything seems so calm, the storm has passed and the sun is shining. I look at you pale as moonlight and cold as the stars, you are not waking up. I see that you will never wake up now. My body becomes ice and I can’t move. I cannot even cry. What monster am I that I can’t even cry in front of the statue you have become? Why can I not cry for you?

And then I hear a small sound, which then becomes a wail and I realise that something magical had happened this night. Anna did you give your life for your child knowingly? Or could nature not bear to see the both of you die?

Tears roll down my cheeks but still I cannot move. A small knock echoes for a long time around my head before the door carefully opens and the early healer tiptoes in. What a sorry sight it must have been for her and yet she quietly came in, sat me down and put my child in my arms before disappearing out again.

A lifetime later, though from the look of the sun it must have been less than an hour, she came back with an older woman who fed the hungry little thing that had been in my arms and I couldn’t help but wonder at the beauty of life. I have witnessed a heart wrenching end, but with it came a new beginning. It was like a Phoenix, I thought, new life born from ashes. I named my daughter Anna, like you, because in a way, you were reborn in her, and I know she is not you and I will never expect her to be you but there is a part of you in her. I will cherish my child because you gave her your life, and I will gladly give her mine.

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Posted by on 15 April 2014 in Banzaï, Speakeasy


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