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In the fourth month of Christmas...
In the fourth month of Christmas...
- Letter from the Editor
- "A Reflection on Curmudgeons"
- Peppermint Bark Recipe
- “The Twelve Months of Christmas” Chapter Four
- Christmas Puzzle to Make You Go uhhhhhh okay then
OH MY DARLINGS,
What a joyous edition of our newsletter we bring you today! I cried tears of wonder (and perhaps some other things also) when I read this month's contributions. So moved was I that I mentally could not handle the task of proofreading. I hope as you make yourself a large batch of peppermint bark and cozy up to read another riveting chapter of "The Twelve Months of Christmas," something akin to holiday wonder might infiltrate your fragile being as it did mine. Only eight more months until Christmas day itself---let us spend every moment until then basking in the jolliness to come.
Holly Carroll, Editor in Chief
"A Reflection on Curmudgeons"
"A Reflection on Curmudgeons"
by Erstwhiline Hesperia
by Erstwhiline Hesperia
Curmudgeons, they grumble
and claim that is better
than that which could humble--
holiday happy and joy and warm sweaters.
Will ever they learn
what they truly desire?
As they jealously yearn
for chestnuts that roast over openest fires?
Curmudgeons, you know,
were the tiniest tots,
with eyes all aglow,
and spying if Santa could fly or could not.
Christmas lives still
in their deepest of hearts,
so we'll wish and we'll will
one day jolly will wake as bah humbug departs.
"The Twelve Months of Christmas"
"The Twelve Months of Christmas"
by Kafryn Swargyn
by Kafryn Swargyn
***
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Chapter Four: Four Calling Birds
Chapter Four: Four Calling Birds
Once out of sight of the farmhouse, you don’t see a point in running. You slow to a walk--not a stroll, because you don’t know how to do anything in that relaxed a fashion, but a purposeful walk. It doesn’t matter which direction you walk. For one, you don’t know where you are. And for two, the next passel of birds will surely find you wherever you end. So for now you just leave the chickens behind you and wait to be tormented.
What would actually happen, do you suppose? If I just accepted the Caroller’s call? Would this end? You had sort of said yes to the hens, but only to distract them long enough to escape. What would happen to someone who gave in sincerely? True, this might be a miserable experience. But you aren’t about to start hanging mistletoe or making fudge. That would not be seasonally appropriate in the least. Besides, cheer and joy and all that hogwash are just plain annoying.
A little woosh of air and flapping feathers nearby draws your attention. There’s now a small black bird on a tree branch beside you, beak open in what appears to be a yawn. Can birds yawn? Huh.
The little guy notices you, then swivels around to look the direction he came from. “CHIRP! ARE YOU IDIOTS COMING OR NOT? I swear, I have to yell at them every five minutes or they disappear.”
You give a sympathetic “tsk tsk” and wait.
“Still hate Christmas, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Bummer. GERALDINE! HUMPHREY! WILHELM! GOOD GRIEF! Well, once you meet the Caroller you guys will sort it out.”
“Yeah, where is this Caroller guy? I’d like to meet him.”
“She lives pretty close to here. You’ll meet her soon enough. FINALLY.” Three more small black birds arrived, none of them looking particularly happy to be there.
“Hey,” you say, nodding in greeting. “So, maybe we could skip the spiel about Christmas and whatever and you could either tell me how to get home or point me in the direction of the Caroller so she can tell me how to get home?”
The leader of the bunch shrugs its shoulder-adjacent bits. “Okay. My voice is tired anyway. We’ll lead you to town. Get in formation, idiots.”
The four of them form a square around you, two leading the way and two flying behind, presumably to make sure you don’t run off. It’s quiet for a while as the five of you just move along, to wherever it is that you’re going.
New noises emerge. You can’t see it yet, but you hear signs of life in the distance. Voices and smells and all sorts of things waft to you on the breeze. At the summit of a hill, the city comes into view. It looks small at first, but the more you look the more you see it sprawling outwards through the meadows.
The calling birds urge you on, to the city gate. A guard stands on either side, each of them bearing sharpened peppermint sticks. They step forward at your approach, the tiny bells on their uniforms jingling.
“A new recruit to the Caroller’s army?” The one on the left asks.
The leader bird glances back at you. “Nope, this one’s stubborn.”
You open your mouth to say, “Yes, and I’d like to meet this Caroller person so I can do her all manner of bodily harm,” but you’re cut off when the guards nab you. Before you can process what’s happening, you find yourself alone in a dark room with hands tied. So you sit there. And you close your eyes in hopes that something sensical will happen when you open them again.
To be continued....
To be continued....
A Holiday Puzzle Just for You!
A Holiday Puzzle Just for You!
And the answer key from last month's puzzle:
And the answer key from last month's puzzle:
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