Silent Night

The sack slipped from his numb fingers. He stumbled backwards, slipped and fell heavily onto the frozen path. With lightening reflexes the beast saw his chance and leapt. The devil-wolf landed hard on his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. He tried to inhale but instead got a mouth full of the wolf’s rancid breath. The animal snarled dripping warm saliva onto his cheek. The figure closed his eyes as Black Peter went to tear open his throat. But the killing bite never came.

Cautiously he opened his eyes again and saw the wolf looking up at the dark grey sky where the stars were beginning to fade. The beast cocked its shaggy head on one side and turned to the nearest hedgerow as if listening or perhaps sensing something beyond human perception. Then the great devil-wolf turned and silently slunk off back into the shadow of the hedge without looking back.

The figure pushed himself up onto his elbows and stared after Black Peter but there was no sign of the beast. Its paw prints ended at the hedgerow but there was no rustle of branches or snapping of twigs. He had simply vanished.

Overhead a robin circled the garden in the colourless pre-dawn gloom and landed on a snowy wooden bird table nearby. The prone figure remained still in case he frightened the little bird away. The robin made him smile as it chirped and pecked at the breadcrumbs someone had kindly left out for it. The snow had stopped and all around him a dull haze was slowly spreading over the distant fields. Dawn was approaching and he realised with familiar resignation that it was Christmas morning and the world was starting to wake up.

The early morning sky was growing brighter and a light flickered on in the cottage before him. An excited young face beamed out of a bedroom window as the first rays of sun touched the wintery garden. Although he was just below her window the little girl in the farmhouse wouldn’t see him down here. No one ever saw him; they wouldn’t even know he’d been. He was more of a make-believe character now than a real person; just a figment in the collective memory of the world.

He watched the first glimmers of sunlight reach towards him, accepting that once again he’d failed to deliver all the presents in a single night, but he knew it wasn’t over. At that moment the sun’s the pale rays touched the tips of his shiny black boots the world instantly changed …

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)