|
This
delightful and enchanting story was chosen to appear in
Bright Light Multimedia's latest anthology,
“Speaking of Love”.
For your pleasure and perusal, we present an extract
from ...
Christmas
Linda
Part 2
One Special Night
I found myself stranded in a strange town
with less than a week to go before Christmas.
Stranded two hundred miles from home
with a seriously ill car in the garage
and a lack of will to contemplate train travel.
In truth I was in no hurry to return home
to the empty, soulless house that once was home
but now held no comfort for me.
My wife of twenty five years had died a year before,
finally loosing her battle with cancer,
and my children were all grown up now
with homes and families of their own.
The house would be full at Christmas,
full of noise and hustle and bustle,
and the usual mix of love, laughter and tears,
but for now it was cold and empty.
So, I booked into a hotel for the weekend
and I would drive home on Monday.
So finding myself in a strange town,
just a few days before Christmas
and with more than a little time to kill,
I decided I could fill part of my day
by doing some last minute Christmas shopping.
As I stepped out of the Hotel, I shivered.
The day was cold, grey and damp
and clouds scudded across the December sky.
It was the kind of day that chilled you to the bone.
I made my way towards the high street.
It was only a five minute walk,
the receptionist assured me with a smile,
as she jotted down some brief directions.
In an effort to warm myself up,
I walked briskly, following her directions,
down the narrow, almost Dickensian lanes and alley ways,
passing picturesque Victorian and Tudor buildings, well mock Tudor
as I went and it was, indeed, five minutes when I emerged
onto the busy, cobbled, pedestrianised high street.
It was a curious mixture of ancient and modern.
At one end of the street a Norman church was visible
and at the other was what appeared to be a municipal building,
with rather pretentious Georgian columns.
There was still evidence of a row of Edwardian shop fronts
but much of the street was modern,
with a little too much sixties influence to be easy on the eye.
The street was criss-crossed along the full length
with festive lights and decorations
which did there best to brighten the scene.
I decided to familiarize my self with what the town had to offer
in the way of shops so I turned left and joined the throng of shoppers,
faces gloomy to match the weather,
and headed towards the Georgian pillared building.
This turned out to be the public library.
As I dodged between the Christmas Lemmings,
I made a mental note of shops I would return to.
My progress was hampered by erratic shoppers
who moved, it appeared, independently to any logic.
Some seemed to zigzag everywhere and very few possessed
the ability to walk in a straight line for more than a few paces,
and others would take a few steps then stop for no apparent reason
then, after a few moments pause, carry on normally in the same direction.
The sound of cheery Christmas songs and carols
could be heard from every shop I passed,
though the cheeriness of the music
was clearly not reflected on the faces
of the shoppers going in and out of them.
As I passed one shop, Noddy Holder screamed “it’s Christmas”,
just in case any of the reluctant shoppers were in any doubt.
When I reached the other end of the high street,
where the church stood, there was a little square,
which I wasn’t able to see before,
in the centre of which was the war memorial
and to its left was a magnificent Christmas tree,
covered in baubles and adorned by a beautiful angel.
Assembled around the tree was the Salvation Army band.
I took a few moments to admire the tree and listen to the band
and I was taken back to a distant time and place.
The clock chimed and I was brought back to the present.
I took a few more moments while I decided on my first port of call,
not realizing just how important a decision it was.
I decided on Woolworths, always a favourite of mine at Christmas
but it also happened to be the closest,
so I walked towards the store and pushed open the door.
As I entered, I paused to hold the door open for a woman coming the other way.
I waited as she put her purse away into a huge handbag
and I wondered what I would get for my trouble.
I had found the older I got the less women appreciated courtesy.
The simple act of holding open a door could provoke a range of responses,
a smile, a thank you, a nod, a sneer, a tut or a colourful mouth full of abuse,
and you couldn’t always tell who was going to do what.
The
complete story can now be found in Bright Light
Multimedia’s latest publication
Speaking of
Love
-
positive and uplifting short stories and poems about
romance, marriage and true love -
Click here for more information
Editor: "One Special Night" is a wonderful story – in fact, we like it so
much, we chose it to go into our book about the joys and
wonder of love – “Speaking of Love”. If you know someone
who enjoys feeling good all over, then this is the
perfect present for them. Remember you deserve to feel
happy too. Why not give yourself the gift that keeps on
giving – “Speaking of Love”.
Sacred
Love
by B.A. Llewellyn
Reviews
(applause received) 
Be
the first to review this story - click here.
|
.jpg)
