Wytchwood

[kaelln]

Well, this is totally off-topic Tolkien and Ranger-wise, but here for your enjoyment is the first part of Chapter One of my novel attempt, tentatively entitled "Wytchwood". I hope you all enjoy it!

Chapter 1
A Lump of Coal

Moving day: that blessed event looked forward to with keen anticipation by all those that enjoy sweating, grunting, and banging their elbows on sharp door frames whilst trying to heft three-hundred pound sofas up stairs that include ninety-degree turns at the top. As Dad did at exactly this second, accompanied by a rather rude and loud word that it would probably be best not to repeat. In Dad's defense, it was totally involuntary, and besides, Dad, all arms and legs and gangly klutziness, was not exactly built for heavy lifting. His friend, Bob, hefting the other side of the sofa, sniggered.

"That's a good one!" Sam said. "I'll have to remember that one!"

"Oh, honestly, Sam, grow up!" Shannon said primly. Shannon was twelve, skinny, arms and legs too long, too old for the braid her Dad kept insisting on putting her sandy hair in, which, right now, she was studiously picking out.

Sam smirked. "What's more grown-up than swearing?" he said. "Besides, I'm only ten. Why would I want to be a grown-up?"

Shannon just sighed in reply.

It was also Christmas Eve, and Sam couldn’t believe their Dad had packed them all up and moved all the way across the country. It seemed to him that this was a time when they should have been with friends and family, having a normal Christmas, or as normal as possible, with Mom…gone. Especially with Mom gone.

The big old house was a beehive of activity. They were still unpacking boxes and getting the furniture off the truck and getting settled in. The offending braid removed, Shannon bustled about, unpacking organizing, and putting things away. After all, with Mom gone, she was the woman of the house. Sam searched for his X-Box.

The house was huge, and in its heyday, probably much nicer than they could have afforded. It's heyday must have been around 1872. Now it was rundown, with peeling paint and stained wallpaper, broken windows boarded up with plywood here and there. The furniture had dusty sheets draped over it. Dad said it was an “early Victorian Queen Anne”. Shannon said it looked like a castle designed by the Mad Hatter.

Sam thought it looked like something out of Scooby Doo. Its owner was a friend of Dad's that needed a caretaker, someone that would live there and fix the place up over a period of a couple of years, presumably so he could sell it, the same friend, in fact, that was helping him unload the rental moving truck. Dad’s friend, Bob Martin, was tall and handsome, square-jawed and athletic and rich, everything Dad wasn‘t. He looked like a model. Every now and then Shannon would look over at him and sigh, and Sam would roll his eyes. Sam guessed they were lucky to know Mr. Martin, because his Dad, needing a job that allowed him to look after the twins full-time, had packed up the family and moved them all the way from Georgia to Vermont, wherever that was.

Wherever it was, it was cold. A fire burned merrily in the fireplace, providing not-quite-enough heat. The lights were on, but Dad had said that the furnace "needed work".

"Furnace?" Sam had thought. "Whatever happened to central heat?"

The twins sat in their crib, making baby noises at each other. Occasionally they would simultaneously burst into laughter, as if one had just told a joke in their own private little language that only they could understand. In fact, they did it just now, Toney doubling over in laughter, then belching loudly and spitting up all over the blanket.

"Oh dear," Shannon said, reaching into the crib with a baby wipe. As she began to mop up the mess, Timothy screwed up his face, and a sound like a chainsaw starting was accompanied by the most awful smell. Timothy looked truly pleased with himself.

"Oh, gross!" Shannon said, her face doing a great impression of a prune.

Timothy, Toney and Sam all broke into laughter. Shannon picked up Toney and retrieved a fresh wipe.

"Laugh away Einstein," she said to Sam. "It's your turn to change the diapers."

Just then, Toney repeated the performance, sighing with satisfaction as she finished.

"Ughh!" said Shannon, "Here, they're all yours!"

She held Toney out to Sam, who reluctantly took his baby sister into his arm, settling her on one hip.

"Great," he said. "Just flippin' awesome!"

“At least they’re in a good mood,” Shannon said. “They’ve been fussy lately. I think they’re teething.”

"Hey kids," Dad called from the front door, a huge grin on his angular face, "come look at this!"

Shannon and Sam bolted for the door, Sam still toting Toney on his hip. Dad motioned them out to the porch. Sam and Shannon stood there, eyes wide.

"Wow!" Sam said.

"Snow," Shannon whispered. "I've never seen real snow." The snow was falling in big fluffy flakes.

Gusts of wind blew it here and there while it was still in the air, and it began coating the trees in this old forested estate.

"Look!" Sam cried. "It's a dust devil."

The wind whipped the snow into a miniature tornado-like cone, then released it, then caught up another batch.

"Not dust devil," said Shannon. "It's more like a snow devil. But devil's not right either! They're more like Snow Fairies!"

And indeed, several of the little tornadoes danced and cavorted on their lawn, and if you used your imagination, just a little, you could almost believe that fairies danced at their core.

"You're so lame," Sam said.

"You're such a, a boy!" Shannon shot back.

"Ooh, good one!" Sam said. "It'll take me a while to recover from that!"

The snow was falling thickly now, quickly coating the lawn and the trees in the forest that surrounded the decrepit old estate.

"I'm gonna go play in it," Sam said. "Dad, can you take Toney?"

"Sorry sport," Dad said. "I have to get everything unloaded in a hurry. Looks like we've got a real storm coming. Look!"

The sky above was just a nasty uniform gray, but off in the distance the clouds were dark and almost boiling. Sam knew back home he'd be in for a lot of hard rain and wind. He didn't know what it meant here.

Just then Timothy, who had been left inside, began bawling at the top of his lungs. Dad sniffed at the air, leaning down and wrinkling his nose as he drew close to Toney’s bottom. He jerked back nearly losing his glasses in the process, rubbing his hands through his perennially messy hair, then shoving his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose with his forefinger. He said, “Better get that changed.”

“But Dad, I want to play in the snow!”

“Then you better hurry!” Dad said. “It doesn’t look like that storm will hold off long.” Dad looked at his daughter. “Shannon, there’s no reason you couldn’t take a break. How many times in your life do you get your first snow?”

“But Dad, there’s still so much to do,” Shannon said. “There’s tons of stuff to put away and organize, and unpack and unload…”

“And it will all still be there tomorrow,” Dad said. “There’s just a few more things to unload off the truck, and they’re all too big for you to worry with. You’re too responsible for your own good. Now get outside, young lady, and that’s an order!”

“What about me?” Sam asked.

“You have some diapers to change, as I recall,” Dad said. “The sooner you get started, the sooner you’ll be done!”

“Great,” Sam muttered under his breath as he turned wearily and trudged inside, “the first snow of my life, and do I get to play in it? Noooh! Instead I get stinky diapers!”

And stinky they were, being loaded with that particularly foul and malodorous green kind of poo that makes you wonder if you’re being punished in advance for murdering your younger siblings, or perhaps karma was finally catching up with you for some especially egregious and heinous crime in some far distant past life. Toney cooed at Timothy as Sam changed her diaper, and he giggled in response. Sam only nearly gagged at the smell, which was an improvement over his usual response. He supposed he must be getting used to this. When he pulled Timothy’s diaper open it was even worse. Sam wrinkled his nose and closed his eyes, which was fortunate, for just then Timothy let loose a mighty jet of wee, which struck Sam square in the face. The twins burst into laughter.

* * *

Shannon, however, was quite enjoying herself. She had pulled on gloves and a coat and a crocheted cap her Mom had made her that she had never once needed in Georgia, and charged into the yard, scooping up snow and tossing it into the air. Then spotting a “snow fairy” she chased after it. Every time she got close, it suddenly dodged away, almost as if it were being intelligently directed, almost as if a fairy really did dance at its core. She chased and jumped and backtracked and swerved until she had to lean over, hands on knees, trying to catch her breath. It was so much fun that she almost didn’t feel guilty about ducking out on the work. Dad needed all the help he could get, after all, though it was fun to dump some of the work on Sam, who was far too irresponsible, in her opinion. It was at that moment, of course, that the “snow fairy” doubled back and swept right into her.

She gasped and stood up straight with the shock, shivering. Freezing cold air wormed and tunneled into every crack and crevice in her extremely inexpert armor of cold weather clothing. The tiny funnel spun her around and around, and she could have sworn that her feet even left the ground. Sparks danced before her eyes, and there was a tinkling sound, very, very faint, that sounded like laughing bells. Then the “snow fairy” was gone.

“I must have stood up too fast,” Shannon thought. “It made me dizzy so that I saw stars and thought I was spinning.” Tinkling bells, further away this time. “Maybe there’s a wind chime somewhere. That has to be it.”

The wind picked up, the snow falling heavier, and faster. The flakes, light and fluffy before, now seemed slightly wet, and when the wind picked up, they stung when they hit. With a start, Shannon realized it was snowing so hard, that she could no longer see the house.

* * *

Sam finally got himself and the twins cleaned up, grabbed his coat and ran for the door. He was about a step and a half away when the door flew open, and Dad and his friend came in, stomping their feet to get the snow off.

“Thanks Bob,” Dad said, “you don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Maybe,” Bob said, “ but I know what it’ll mean to me if you get this place fixed up. I figure this place would be worth about three quarters of a mill, restored all proper like.”

Sam jerked on his Dad’s coat.

“Dad,” he said.

“Still,” Dad said, “this is exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it. Again, thanks.”

“Da-ad!”

“Aaa, it’s nothing,” Bob said. “I’m just sorry we couldn’t get everything in before the storm hit.”

“It’s fine, Bob. We’ve got everything we need for the night. You’d better get going, though. This storm’s gonna be a doozy.”

Sam jerked harder on the coat.

“Daaaaaad!” he bellowed.

“What?” Dad said, looking down. “And don’t interrupt. It’s rude.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Sam said. “I got the diapers changed. Can I go outside?”

“Sorry Sport,” Dad said, “but the storm is too bad. You can’t see three feet ahead of you in that. You’ll have to wait for tomorrow.”

“But Dad!”

“No buts, but chicken butts,” Dad said. “Your Mom loved chicken butts. She said they were fluffy. You and Shannon find the sheets and some blankets so we can make the beds for the night.”

“Shannon’s still outside,” Sam said, “so I don’t see why I can’t go!”

Dad’s eyebrows disappeared into his bangs as his glasses fell to the bottom of his nose.

“What!” he said. “She didn’t come in? Sam, you watch the twins, and whatever you do, stay inside! I have to find your sister right away!”

“I’ll help,” said Bob. “I have a flashlight in my car.”

“Thanks,” Dad said, and the two adults rushed out into the storm.

[Mirimaran]

I like it! Sounds interesting, more please

[kaelln]

Ummm, a lot of stuff happened, ummm... Okay! Part 2 of Chapter One coming up!

[kaelln]

A Lump of Coal, Part 2

The snow was really coming down now, but Shannon knew that the house should be right in front of her, so she started trudging that way. After a few feet, she knew something was wrong. Instead of the house, she was reaching the edge of the woods.

“I must have got turned around,” she thought. She shivered.

The snow was now unpleasantly wet, and little melted droplets ran down her neck. Resolutely, she turned around and marched in the opposite direction. It was a big front yard, but after a hundred feet or so, she knew she should be running into the house, only, there was no house. She kept walking. After another fifty feet, still nothing. Then she saw a light.

“Finally!” she thought, and she ran towards it. The light blinked out just as she tripped, landing face first in the snow. She spat out a big mouthful and looked up to see…

Forest. How could there have been a light in the woods? Shannon was sure she had seen a light, but it couldn’t have been. Giggles again, like the tinkling of bells, all around her.

“I’m hearing things,” she thought. “Okay, let’s be logical. I’m lost. I’m also cold and,” she thought, suddenly realizing it, “I’m hungry. I could freeze to death out here, so I have to get to the house, but I can’t see three feet in front of me. How do I find the house?“ She hugged her knees tight while she thought. “I’ve got it! The yard around the house is surrounded by the woods, except for the road leading to the house. If I just follow the line where the woods meet the yard, eventually I’ll come to the road, and that will take me to the house.” Pleased with herself, she hopped up and started following the course she had worked out for herself.

Things went swimmingly until she realized that the yard was curving the wrong way. No matter which direction she was headed, the line between the forest and yard should be curving inward, not outward. But that wasn’t what was happening. Of course, she didn’t expect that the yard would be perfectly straight, but it had been curving outward for the last several minutes, and now it seemed that the forest was closing about her, as if she had been steered onto a path that she had not realized was a path until just now.

It was a creepy path, too. It seemed the sun was setting, and what little she could see of the forest was dark indeed. As the path narrowed she imagined, or at least she thought she imagined, dark shapes moving through the shelter of the trees, which seemed to close about her on both sides. She had been moving to the right when she wound up on this path, and what she should do was turn around and start bearing right again. But then she saw something ahead. The path came to an end with a pile of old logs that seemed to have been piled up purposefully just to block the path. In front of the logs was an old sign half hanging off a post, though she could barely make out the letters. They seemed to have been carved into the wood crudely, and she squinted to make out the letters.

“W-- Y-- T-- C-- H-- W-- O-- O-- D,” she said aloud. “Wytchwood! K-- E-- E-- P-- keep! O-- U-- T-- out!” She shivered with more than the cold. “Wytchwood Keep Out,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me twice!”

She said that, but part of her was very curious. It looked like the pile of logs was just dumped in the middle of the path, and she believed the path probably just continued on the other side. What would make someone block off a path like this? After all, it wasn’t like there were really any such thing as witches! It wasn’t logical. But then, neither was blocking off a path. The woods weren’t really all that thick here, and she could edge around the blockage and follow on just a bit…

* * *

Meanwhile, Sam was bored. He couldn’t find his X-Box, he couldn’t find a cable outlet to hook up the TV, and watching babies was about as much fun as homework. Boring, dumb and smelly homework, with disgusting bathroom habits. The twins were sleeping now, and that was just fine with him. He wondered if he could get anything on TV, so he plugged it in and switched it on. Snow. Channel after channel, nothing but snow. Snow outside, snow on TV, nothing but snow, inside or out.

“Hey, I get it,” he said to no one in particular. “Vermont is all about snow!”

He thought about back home. Right about now, he would be finishing up some of his Gran’s pecan pie, right after stuffing himself to the gills with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, black-eyed peas, and cheesy squash casserole. There would be banana pudding lined with vanilla wafers, German Chocolate cake, and sweet potato pie. His mouth watered and his stomach grumbled just thinking about it. The adults would be watching some football game on TV, and all the cousins would be dreaming up some kind of mischief to get into. It might be all of about 65 degrees, and he wouldn’t be stuck in some boring old wreck of a house by himself, and there would be fun things to do, and he wouldn’t have to change any diapers!

And it was all because his Mom died!

“It’s not her fault,” he told himself. He knew it wasn’t her fault, he knew it, but it made him mad, anyway! It was all her fault! What did she have to go and die for? She messed up everything! Now he was stuck indoors here in wherever-the-heck-Vermont-was. He kicked a door frame in frustration. And a picture popped off the wall. Glass shattered, and he was afraid the twins would awaken, but they just kept on snoring, for which he was grateful. He really needed to watch his temper. Everybody told him so. He found the broom and dustpan (“This I can find, but my X-Box? No!”) and swept up the glass. He knew he’d be in trouble, but lately, what else was new? He gingerly picked up the picture. It was a photo in black-and-white, and a large one, of the house when it must have been in its heyday. At least it didn’t look rundown. There was a man in the photo standing in front of some kind of antique automobile, holding a double barreled shotgun in one arm with his other arm wrapped around a woman. They were both wearing old fashioned but formal clothing.

“Weird,” Sam thought.

There was a small, dusty brass plaque at the bottom of the frame. Sam wiped the dust away with his shirt sleeve and read: “Samuel and Emily Cooper, Draco Manor in Wytchwood, 1925.”
“Samuel Cooper!” he thought. “That’s my name!”

* * *

Shannon had just begun inching around the pile of logs when she heard the bells again, this time from behind.

“I really have to find those chimes when the snow clears up,” she thought, and began inching around the pile again. The bells sounded again, but it was different this time. Before they had always sounded merry, almost like laughter. Now the tone had changed. Now they sounded jangled, discordant, almost angry. Shannon stopped and turned her head toward the sound. It was almost like someone, or something, was trying to communicate with her. But that was just crazy. She shook her head to clear the nutty ideas away, and took another step around the logs.

Then something tapped her on the back of the head.

“Who’s there?” she said, spinning around.

Tinkling bells, sounding merry once more.

And now she could see a light, like a flashlight, moving like someone running, and she could hear voices.
“Shannon!” the voice said, then another voice, “Shannon! Are you there?”

And that voice she recognized. It was her Dad.

“Dad! I’m here!” she yelled. “I got lost in the storm!”

And then her Dad was with her sweeping her up in his arms.

“I was scared to death!” he said. “Let’s get you inside and warm you up!”

“It’s lucky you had a flashlight,” said Dad’s friend Bob, “or we might not have found you, but why did you turn it off just now?”

“I don’t have a flashlight, Mr. Martin” Shannon answered. “I don’t have any kind of light at all.”

“But we saw a light,” said Dad. “It led us right to you.”

Shannon shrugged.

“Well, anyway, let’s get you in,” Dad said, patting her on the shoulder, then he turned and …
Whumph! Tripped and landed flat on his face. Bob and Shannon rushed forward to help and…
Crunch! Bob stepped right on Dad’s glasses. He picked them up. They were a sad sight, with both earpieces dangling, one lens missing and the other gouged right across the center.

“Was that my glasses?” Dad asked, squinting up from his prone position through the snow caked on his face.

“Oh, Dave, I’m so sorry! Here, let me help you up.”

Dad sighed as Bob extended his hand and awkwardly stood. Bob helped him brush snow off his clothing.
“It’s okay, Bob,” he said. “I have a spare pair stashed away… somewhere.”

He took Shannon’s hand, and leaned over to whisper in her ears.

“Can you be my eyeballs ‘till I get in, Sweetie?” he said. “All I can see in this is a great big blur.”

* * *

Sam woke with a start as the door banged open and Shannon, Dad and Mr. Martin came in, along with a gust of freezing air. Shannon pushed the door, which seemed to fight her a bit to stay open. The wind pushed hard enough on the door to require both hands, and just as she leaned in to shove hard, the wind shifted, removing all pressure, and the door slammed shut with a bang, leaving the only sound the whistling and moaning the wind made as it reacted with all the cracks and crevices in the old house.

“Oops,” Shannon said. “Sorry.”

“Bob,” Dad said, “are you sure you won’t stay the night? It’s a real mess out there.”

“Yes it is,” Mr. Martin said, “but I really need to go. Are you sure you don’t want to come back to town and take one more night in the motel?”

“”We’ll be fine,” Dad said firmly. “Can I make you some coffee? I know the coffee stuff is around here somewhere.”

“I have a full thermos in the car,” Bob said. “I really do need to get going, Dave.”

Dad shook Bob’s hand. “Thanks again, Bob.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Mr. Martin, and, waving at the kids, quickly went out the door.

“Dad,” Sam said, “I broke a picture.” He held the picture up to his Dad, who just kind of squinted hard at it.

“Oh, Sam,” Dad said, “what’s it a picture of?”

“Where’s your glasses?” Sam asked.

“Broke ‘em,” Dad said.

“Oh, Dad,” Sam sighed shaking his head. “It’s a really old photo of the house, with this man and woman in front of it. The photo’s okay, but the frame is a little wobbly, and I smashed the glass.”

“What did you do that for?” Dad asked.

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Sam said. “Anyway, the picture is weird.”

“What’s weird about it?” Shannon asked. “It looks okay to me.”

“It’s got my name on it,” Sam said.

“Where?” Shannon asked, snatching the picture away from Sam.

“Don’t do that!” Sam said, snatching the picture back. “Right there, on that little brass plaque.”

“Samuel and Emily Cooper, Draco Manor in Wytchwood, 1925,” Shannon read. “Hey Dad, there’s that name ‘Wytchwood’ again,” Shannon said. “That was on a sign down in the woods.”

“What were you doing in the woods?” Sam asked.

“Got lost,” Shannon replied.

“How’d you get lost?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know!” Shannon said. “One minute I was in the front yard chasing a snow fairy, and the next I was all the way in the back!”

“Dork,” Sam commented.

“Least I didn’t break something my first ten minutes alone,” Shannon replied.

“Least I didn’t get lost in the yard!” Sam said. “I mean, really, how do you get lost in the yard?”

“Least I got to go in the yard!” Shannon said. “How did you like those stinky diapers, dweeb?”

Sam glared at her for half a second, then shoved her. She stumbled back, then glared at him for half a second.

Now, there comes a point when water goes from bubbling along merrily to boiling over. It happens suddenly and without much warning, and that’s what happened to all the Coopers just then. Their tempers, already bubbling away from tiredness, fear of their new situation, and frustration, boiled over. Sam and Shannon stood with arms held stiffly straight and their fists balled up screaming at each other. The twins, rudely woken from a sound sleep, both wailed. Dad, to whom everything was a blur, grabbed two handfuls of his own hair and roared in frustration.

Then the doorbell rang. It was so unexpected that everyone stopped in mid-scream to look at the door in astonishment. Then the doorbell rang again, twice in rapid succession.

“Ummm, Sam, could you get that please?” Dad said.

Sam walked to the door, grabbed the knob and turned and pulled. It was an old man. Possibly the oldest man Sam had ever seen. He had a long nose, a white beard, and the crinkliest laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. But it wasn’t really his looks that made Sam think he was so old. He didn’t really look older than Gran. There was just something that made him feel old. He was wearing a postman’s uniform, and he carried a large gray sack.

“Well,” he said, “are you going to ask me in? It’s colder than a witches …ummm, nose, yeah, that’s it, it’s colder than a witches nose out here!”

In a tiny and bewildered voice, Sam said, “Won’t you please come in sir?”

The old man stepped in, taking the door and closing it firmly.

“It’s not much better in here, is it?” the old man said. “You folks ought to get that furnace going!”

And setting down his sack, he went to the fireplace and held first his hands up to the fire, then he turned around and bent over to warm his fanny.

“The furnace isn’t working,” Dad said.

“Oh, there’s a trick to these old furnaces,” the old man said. “You got to kick it one, in just the right spot,” His foot flew at an invisible spot. “You take a look and you’ll see just the spot where everyone else has kicked it. You just light the pilot light, flip the switch, and give it a good kick. She’ll start right up.”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Dad said, “but who are you?”

“Oh, that’s right, I nearly forgot,” the old man said. “Got a delivery for you folks.” He scurried over to his bag, and began pulling parcels out of it.

“Maybe it’s from Gran!” Shannon said.

“Lessee… I got one here for a Dave Cooper,” the old man said, and tossed a small rectangular package to Dad, who felt it strike his chest. Dad fumbled at it and nearly dropped it before catching it.

“And here’s one for Shannon; that must be you,” the old man said, tossing Shannon an even smaller package.

“Here’s one marked ‘the Twins’; I know where that goes,” he said, tossing a package in the crib.
“Oh, can’t have Christmas Eve without a tree,” he said, and amazingly, pulled out a small, live fir tree in a pot, which he sat to the left of the fireplace.

Sam was practically squirming, waiting for his.

“Welp,” the old man said, “ I think that’s about it. You folks have a Merry Christmas!” He shouldered his sack and headed for the door.

“Wait!” Sam shouted.

“It’s rude to shout,” Dad said.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “Sir, don’t you have anything in there for me?

“Hmmm?” the old man said. “Don’t think so.” He took the sack off his shoulders, and started digging around in it. The sack just sort of stood there, as if patiently suffering, while the old man’s entire upper torso disappeared inside.

“Nope, not that one,” the old man muttered, “nor that one, or that one, ouch! No biting! Not this one either.” He stood up, and the bag collapsed. “Sorry sonny, didn’t see…”

And a package fell out of the sack.

“What’s this?” the old man said. “Sam Cooper? Well, that’s you, isn’t it sonny. Here you go.”

And he handed Sam a square package about 10 inches to a side wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with string. The address read: Sam Cooper, Draco Manor, Wytchwood, Vermont. There was no return address.

“Well, got to get going,” the old man said. “I’m running behind in all this terrible weather. But you know what they say about rain and snow and sleet and all that stuff.”

He paused at the door, winked, said, “Merry Christmas!” and was gone.

Sam ran to the door and looked out. There was no sign of the old man. There was no mail truck. There weren’t even any footprints in the snow.

“Weird,” Sam said as he closed the door.

“Yep,” Dad said, holding up the new pair of glasses he had just pulled out of his package. “They fit perfectly, and they’re just my prescription!”

“It’s beautiful!” Shannon said, holding a necklace up to the light, which shimmered and sparkled off the fairy pendant suspended from a silvery chain.

Even the twins had managed to pull their package apart, and they were both happily chewing and slobbering on big plastic teething keys.

Sam wondered what treasure awaited him in this mysterious box. The whole thing was weird. The strange old man with his sack that stood up by itself when he wanted it to, and that held live trees, and spit out the right gift when the old man couldn‘t find it. The gifts from nobody, arriving on Christmas Eve in the middle of a snow storm. The address with the name of the house and the woods instead of a street and town. For that matter, the picture with his name on it. And the gifts themselves were weird. Dad getting glasses just when he broke his old ones. Shannon getting a fairy necklace just when she had spent the whole day talking about fairies. Even the twins getting teething toys. It was like someone knew just the perfect gift for the moment for each person. It wasn’t impossibly weird, it was just… strange.

“So, what did you get, sport?” Dad said.

“Yeah, open it up,” said Shannon, fastening her necklace around her neck.

They both gathered around as Sam pulled at the knot, which surprisingly just opened up and fell away. The paper came off just as easily, and he slowly lifted the lid from the box.

“Well,” said Shannon, “what is it?”

“It looks like, like some kind of… rock,” said Sam.

Dad made a frowny face with his eyebrows drawn together, and the lines in his forehead crinkling up.

“Let me see it,” he said.

Sam handed over the box and Dad picked up the object. It was black and irregularly shaped, and lighter than you would think a rock that size would be. Dad handed the object to Sam, with that tight, down turned, thin-lipped look he got when he had unpleasant news.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” he said. “I think it’s… coal.”

“Coal?” Sam asked. “Coal? You mean like what-Santa-gives-to-bad-boys COAL?”

Dad closed his eyes, and shook his head yes. Shannon just stood there, wide-eyed with her hand covering her mouth.

“I can’t freakin’ believe it!” Sam raged. “This is the worst Christmas ever! First we move halfway across the country into this old… barn! Now what do I get for Christmas? Coal! Ha, ha! Great freaking joke!”

“Sam, watch your language!” Dad said. “Your Mom is up in Heaven with all the other angels, looking out for us, and you don’t want to upset her.”

“IT’S ALL HER FAULT!” Sam screamed. “She didn’t ‘go to Heaven to become an angel’, she DIED! She died and left us! Now we had to come here because you can’t hold down a job and take care of us at the same time, and Shannon thinks she’s got to be some kind of substitute Mom instead of a kid, and the twins will never know what it’s like to have a mom, and I don’t know what I want, but I know I don’t want this!”

And he threw the coal into the fire, then ran sobbing from the room.

Dad and Shannon just stood there, mouth hanging open.

“I guess I’d better dispose of this,” Dad said, picking up the empty box. “Sam doesn’t need any reminders lying around.”

Sam never even saw the hand-scrawled note in the bottom of the box that read “Please put in fire for a surprise!”

The coal caught fire and started burning. As it burned, it began to turn orange and red, and little cracks began to form, and tiny chunks began to fall away. And if anyone had been paying attention, they might have begun to see a smooth, shiny, jewel-like surface inside the lump of coal.

(End of Chapter One)

[Mirimaran]

And you haven't published this yet???

We have a friend that was published last year, and she is still doing book tours! You should look into this! Great job!

[kaelln]

Thanks! I would very much like to be published, but I'm only halfway into the second chapter. I need to finish up the Ranger Coat I'm making, then put aside the steampunk keyboard project, and the hatchet, knife handle redo's, and the fifty other projects I'm working on and make this a priority!

If you think your published friend would be interested, I would be grateful if you passed it along to her. If she's not interested, though, I totally understand! I wouldn't want to pester anyone!

But again, thanks for the kind words. It means a lot coming from you, because you're so talented yourself.