July 25th: A Newsletter

In the seventh month of Christmas...

• Letter from the Editor

• "Seasons" by Patrick

• Recipe for Dipped Pretzels

• “The Twelve Months of Christmas” Chapter Seventh

• Christmas Puzzle to Make You Go uhhhh-whaaaaaaaaaat?

"Seasons" (or, "An Uninspired Bit of Drivel")

by Patrick, the Resident Not-Particularly-Good-at-Anything Guy

Springtime, mourning the winter gone

Summer to practice holiday songs

Autumn, wrapping presents and whatsits

Winter for wonder and joy and high spirits

"The Twelve Months of Christmas"

by Kafryn Swargyn

***

Chapter Seven:  Seven Swans A-Swimming

If they try to feed you one more gingersnap, you will have a nervous breakdown. 

Yesterday, the guards slipped a platter of peppermint bark into your cell. The smell of it made your stomach twist. So you closed your eyes and tried to ignore them - tried to ignore everything. This morning, a few of the geese waddled over to peck at it through the bars. You found some small entertainment and throwing it to them. Soon it ran out, and the geese left you. 

So I lie on the cobbled floor, waiting for sweet oblivion to take you. But no. Christmas will not suffer you to die before you’re broken fully.

There’s been a constant hum of activity the last week or so. The Caroller’s preparing for some fort of feast, you reckon. Not that you care. In the hubbub of stable hands, milkmaids, and whoevers tripping about, a new flock of birds arrive. Stupid birds. The Caroller’s got several problems and nearly all of them have feathers. 

This time - swans. Remarkably, the geese seem to acknowledge the swans’ superiority and just let them take over the pond. You watch them bask in the sun a while, then decide you don’t care. Images of that one milkmaid float through your head. Who is she? You’ve only caught glimpses of her a few times since she helped you out of the water. She never looks your direction, never speaks to you. You wish she would. You need an ally if you’re ever going to get out of here. But right now, there’s little you can do. 

Oh, there she is again. She walks around the far corner of the barn, rubbing her temples like she’s got a massive headache. She sits beside the pond and stares blankly at the swans. Looks like her day is going about as well as mine. 

One of the swans approaches her. You can’t hear that far, but presumably it’s lecturing her about holiday joy or some such nonsense. She nods. She takes something out of her pocket - a little lump - turns it about in her fingers for a moment, then hands it to the swan. 

Whatever. Your eyelids are heavy. It’s time you close them again and just…drift…AUGH! What is that noise? A swan is now smacking the bars of my cell with its beak while also squawking in a most annoying fashion. 

“What, devil bird?”

“I am come with a word of encouragement from the good lady Milkmaid. She wishes to remind you of the hope found only in Yuletide, and says, as your dear friend, she sincerely wishes that you might find it in your heart to accept the Christmas spirit that lies dormant in your crusty soul, so that you may know peace, and that torment may not stalk you all the days of your life.”

“Is that all?”

The swan hiccups, kicks a lump through the bars, then flies away. The lump is cheese. You think. It’s kind of dirty. 

You’ll admit, at this point you are sincerely considering eating it. But the germaphobe in you isn’t quite dead yet. You pick it up and notice something odd in the surface of the cheese. Are those words? So they are. It’s difficult to make out, especially with the dirt stuck in it. But the milkmaid must have carved a message in the cheese for you. You get a momentary sense of excitement - almost. If this is more bird talk, this time, you will lose your very last shred of sanity. 

“I’m over this,” it says. Over the next few minutes, your eyes get progressively wider. This is an escape plan. 

To be continued....

A Holiday Puzzle Just for You!

kindly supplied by kidspuzzlesandgames.co.uk because, no, I could not be bothered