'Twas the Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even a mouse...

It was dead silent. There was no whistling of the wind, no rustling of the leaves. The room was pitch black, not even a sliver of light shone through the closed window and as she fumbled around for a candle, the eeriness began to chill her bones. Finally a solid flame flickered atop the white candle. White for life; for hope, peace, and the mere festivity of Christmas. But for her, white stood for death, sadness and isolation.

The stockings all hung,
By the Chimney with care
In hopes that Saint Nicholas
Soon would be there…

Her heart was heavy, as she walked slowly across the room, seeing the two stockings she had hung lovingly, for the two of them to open together. So many hopes and dreams, all shattered in a single instant.

The children were nestled,
All safe in their beds,
While visions of sugarplums,
Danced in their heads...

Searching, her leg bumped against something and she knew she had found it. She lowered the candle a little, afraid of what she would see. And there he lay. Yes, he was tucked up, but no sugarplums danced in his head, nothing did now. His skin was paler than ever, if possible, for he had been dead a while. His hair seemed blonder, if possible, for it stood out against the darkness of the room. His lips were blue, for no blood ran through them.

Away to the window
I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters
And threw out the sash...

It was all she could take for the moment. She laid down the candle and ran towards the window, ripping open the shutters and taking a deep breath. It did nothing, save from heaving out her already empty stomach. Her head throbbed with a headache, but she wasn’t done yet.

She was scared, but she walked over once again to his body and lowered the candle a little more, and shone it across the sheets that covered him. They were spotted dark brown from all the blood, and that was when the first tear rolled down her cheek, and dripped onto his.

I love you.

The moon on the breast
Of the new fallen snow...

And as she closed her eyes, a clock from a distance, finally chimed twelve, as she realized no one deserved to be so alone on Christmas. Even if he could not see her, his spirit was there, and she would stay with him all night; if that’s what it took to prove her love. She leaned down and kissed him, for the last time, on his lips.

So cold.

Gives the lustre of midday
Of what lies below...

She was bent over him, her red hair fused with his blond, and no words could describe that last moment they spent together, the one that lasted forever in eternity.

Fire and Ice.
The End.
Dutchess LC is the author of 4 other stories.
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