I really wasn't in the mood for Christmas; certainly not one like Mom had planned. I pictured myself fourteen hours away in my favorite cushy chair, a bowl of chips and a bottle of rootbeer on the table, watching football (taped from Christmas Eve). Ah that vision wooed my heart like a siren--a fine celebration of Christ's birth, tinsel resting on the television. Please don't misunderstand; I love my family. But I rather enjoyed the previous year, my first Christmas on my own, spent quietly in my apartment without obligatory conversation about rather mundane topics.

Humming an old English hymn, I drove along MacDonald Street, splashing puddles onto the cracked, grassy sidewalk.

The clock on the mantle chimed twice.

Trish stood, sauntered to the window and peered out. Using a cuff of her sleeve, she wiped a small misted area of glass to see the dimly lit street beyond her rose garden.

“Where is she, Lord? Andrea is never this late.”

"Lookout, Jamie!"

"Oops." Jamie grabbed the vase before it toppled to the floor.

"How many times do I have to ask you not to run in the house?"

Jamie looked down at his bare feet. "Sorry, Mum."

Day 54- Brad collected different flowers on his journeys through the rain forests in the valleys. He either trekked through the natural beaten paths or climbed the trees to acquire what he felt he needed. By means of trial and error he discovered which plants would either poison or nourish him. Teyata had taught him principles which he rigidly adopted; anything with a milky sap was toxic, but with anything else, he was told to take just a nibble. A minute amount of any plant, even if poisonous, would not be enough to kill. If it tasted pleasant with no ill effects such as nausea or abdominal burning, then he would eat the plant in larger amounts.

Day 40-Brad leapt slamming his knees into his shoulders under Teyata’s watchful eye.

“...sixty eight, sixty nine, seventy; now work on your stomach,” she barked from her vigil on the apex of the bridge arch.

"Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are."

Darkness had become Emma's life since the accident. The impact had left her permanently blind but the loss of her only child was the greatest burden to bear. Nothing would console her aching heart. No one could help relieve her pain. Not even James, who had sat by her bed through all the weeks of recovery, could comfort her.

Sam was the last to leave home. His new job took him across the bay, and I guess it was just too quiet for him at home. Long gone are the days when he and his four siblings rushed around the house with half the church youth group in tow.

David took a deep breath. The musty smells of the old town hall made his nose itch. This place no longer reminded him of community gatherings, Nativity plays or combined Easter services. An old plastic Christmas tree leaned against the wall; bent over and covered in cobwebs. He pushed aside the sagging stage curtain and touched one of the fifteen tarnished Christmas bells which hung in a neat row. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the familiar sounds. All he heard was the squeak of the front door.

"Come and sit, Giles...you know you want to."

My wife sat beside the tall rock, overlooking the lovely mountain. The beauty before her was marred by the expression of pain so intricately painted across her face.

Something was wrong...I didn't know if I could fix it.

Andy, my husband of nine-years leaned over my shoulder to see what the problem was. "You okay?"

"No. I'm stuck." I jabbed the keyboard, nodding towards the computer monitor. "Can't get these characters to come to life!"

Sara laid the brown sweater on her bed. Her fingers lingered on the faux-fur collar and satin ribbon tie before she smoothed the velvety knit.

“…and ten again!” resounded Teyata.

She looked to the shadow, which barely passed the fern by the dead tree; it was very little time. Sniffing loudly, she ambled over the rock bed counting to ten. It was no challenge; she even got to the stage where she could blurt out the numbers in three seconds.

The prickly wind struck Pete’s face like dozens of razors. Sweat stung his eyes. His horse, Toni, zigzagged down the steep mountain. With every frightening turn Pete clutched the reins that were wrapped tightly round his raw and bleeding fists. His partly bare knees ached as they gripped firmly against the saddle but Toni hurtled on further and further with sweat dripping from every inch of her terrified body.

Sarah stood at the mailbox reading an invitation that had been placed there by her neighbors, Jessica and Eric. Sarah knew they meant well, just as they did the night a drunken driver slammed into Barry’s car at the end of their road. Barry was returning after taking home an aunt who had spent Christmas with them. That was the last Christmas Sarah wanted to celebrate.

When at last the most dominant sound of the evening was Brad’s rhythmic snoring, Teyata opened her eyes. She twisted her head on her arm to see him asleep by the fire with his mouth blissfully open. How contented he seemed, even though his body was racked with pain. Who would have known that his entire world had vanished overnight; yet the manling was happy.