An
Orphan's Christmas
It
was the evening of December 24th. 10-year-old John was sitting in his little room –
he was alone. There were not many things around: a bed, a chair, a small table. Apart from
that the room was empty. The bare walls were not draped with posters or pictures as
usually children 's rooms are and it was cold. The window seemed to be a black hole, it
was very dark outside. John usually did not feel very lonely, because being alone was his
every-day situation in the orphanage.
But
that day was not like every day. In the evening all the other orphans were going to
celebrate. They would get presents by some aunts or friends the next morning and they
would celebrate Christmas. They would celebrate the festival of love, harmony and
happiness.
But
not John, he did not know aunts or grandparents or friends. He did not have friends in the
orphanage, most of the children did not like him, but John was used to being alone without
friends.
His
parents had died years before, but no one knew why, they were lost for ever. John could
remember them. He often thought about his family, of course! He asked everyone about them
and he read all the newspapers every day to maybe get some news. But no one ever would
tell him anything.
On
that evening John wished his parents more than ever before to pick him up and tell him to
come home. But it was just a wish ... With thoughts about his family he went to bed
crying. He heard all the other children laughing. Hours later he fell asleep.
At
that night he had a wonderful dream.
He was sitting in his room – alone. He thought about the other children, who were
celebrating Christmas on this day. He felt lonely. Suddenly, someone knocked at his door
and entered the room. It was a little girl. She looked very friendly, was laughing and
told him to come with her. And he went with her. Although it was snowing and John just
wore pyjamas, he did not feel cold. The girl guided him to a little house at the end of
the alley where the orphanage stood. A woman opened the door and told them to come in.
Inside the house it was warm and so homely and John felt very secure. All over the room
there were candles and he smelt cake, baked apples and a fir tree. It smelt like
Christmas. They went to a big table where many people were sitting and laughing.
And although John never had known the faces of his family, he knew that all those people
were his family.
There were Mum and Dad and Grandpa and Grandma, they were celebrating together and he was
part of it. John was so happy. Then he realized presents were lying on a second table.
Presents for him, his name stood on every present! He ran over, but when he wanted to grab
one, he suddenly felt a hit on his back. He tried to ignore it, but he was beaten again
and again.
“John!”,
someone shouted. “JOHN! Please, wake up!” But John did not want to.
“John”, the voice said, “you’ll have to get out of here, it's too
cold! You will freeze to death!”
But
John did not mind. He realized that it was all a dream and that he was lying on the ground
outside of the orphanage in the snow. He realized he went out while he was sleeping and it
was winter and too cold. But he did not mind. His dream was gone, he was alone again, why
should he go with the people from the orphanage?
He
tried to open his eyes, but it didn't work. “I don't mind”, he thought, while he
saw the bright light. Light, brighter than the sun. And suddenly it wasn't cold anymore
and he felt so airy, like a feather. He floated through the light and he saw his parents
again. But they looked a bit different than the parents in his dream. And they were
shining, they were ghosts. And he looked down at himself. He was shining, too. He thought:
“The only way to see my parents again, is to become a ghost ...” Then they came
up to him. “John, finally you're here”, his mother said, she was crying. John
looked into her eyes. They were bright and shiny, but so empty like just a ghost's eyes
could be.
S.B.,
10b, Nov.2010
A
young man is summoned to the army and has to leave his wife and his two beloved children.
Just
a few days before Christmas, his company was ordered to have a long-distance march. This march should lead through a few hours of snow-covered areas.
But his leg was injured and made it difficult for him to walk. When the pains in his leg
became almost unbearable he fell into the snow. His comrades passed him and left him lying
in the glacial coldness. He could not take any more. His last thought was his family and
then he closed his eyes.
He
saw someone lying in the snow. He saw himself. But what was he? He looked down on himself
and noticed that he was transparent. He was a ghost. But why did he stay alive? Probably
the reason was that before he had joined the army he had argued with his wife. Probably it
was that he still had Christmas gifts for his two little children. He had for them two
self-carved wooden figures. He had only one thought when he walked home: His family should
keep him in good memory.
He
fetched the wooden figures out of the garden shed. For his wife he had bought marzipan
pralines. He had the gifts beautifully packed and put them at the front door on Christmas
Eve. A little bird perched on the gifts and picked on them.
After some time his children came running out of the house and chased the bird away. They
immediately discovered the three little packages. His wife was standing in the doorway and
cried. She knew her husband was around somewhere and looked in all directions. Then she
noticed something on the window pane and ran over to the window. On the steamed window was
written: ‘My darling do not forget me. I love you. Forgive me. Provide for our
children. My time has come. I love you darling.’
For a moment she had forgotten the children and the gifts. She only thought of her
husband. The children had stopped playing and ran to her mother. Together they took the
gifts and went back into the house.
He
watched his family going into the house and was sad. Slowly he began to fade away. He had
completed his last task. It was the time to say a final goodbye.
A.K.,
10b, Nov.2010
The
man was on his way home. He came out of the forest near his village and was very happy
that he returned in time, especially because it was Christmas Eve today. He went through
the streets looking through the windows into the christmassy decorated houses and wondered
if his family was already expecting him. It was actually strange that nothing hurt after
his bad accident yesterday, but he did not think about it at that moment. He passed by
Mrs. Smith, one of his neighbours. "Oh, hello! Merry Christmas! How are you?"
But strangely enough she walked on without looking at him or answering him. He was very
confused. What in God’s name was going on?
The bells began to ring when many people made their way to the church. It snowed a lot
like every other Christmas Eve, but the snow did not seem to touch him anywhere. He
noticed the voice of children singing 'Jingle bells' and 'Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer'
and 'We wish you a merry Christmas'. He smiled, in a few minutes he would be at home and
would hug his family.
When he arrived nobody noticed him. His wife talked to the children that their dad would
not ever come back. He had been called by God and was in heaven. After she had said that
she started to cry and embraced her young children. The man's eyes were filled with tears
after he heard that. But he could not believe what he saw.
Suddenly the doorbell rang. Two police officers stood there and told his wife that they
had found the corpse of her husband and only then he realized that he was a ghost.
Seemingly his last wish had come true. After the tree had hit him he could barely move. It
had been so cold and with his last power he had sent a prayer to God begging him to let
him see his family once again. This was like a miracle. He was glad that he could say
goodbye to them although they did not see him. But suddenly his wife looked up and asked:
"Honey, are you here?" Then she smiled a little bit because she knew that he was
and told the children that their dad would be in their hearts forever and that he would
take care of them every second.
Every Christmas Eve the man visits his family and they know that he is attendant, although
they cannot see him.
Sometimes miracles happen.
"Wonder is the dearest child of faith." (Goethe)
C.E.,
10b, Nov.2010
I
opened the door to the garret and entered the dark room. I searched for my winter jacket
because of the coldness outside. I looked around and saw many things: snowboard shoes,
candles, little boxes with cables and other useless items. Then I saw a book lying on the
floor and took it, which dispersed a lot of dust giving me a tickle in my throat.
The
book was entitled “The Lady with the red dress”. I skimmed through it and read:
“Operetta written by Arthur Blest, 10th of December 2000”. Arthur had
been my grandfather. He committed suicide at Christmas in 2000. I sat down on the dusty
floor and read the beginning:
Derrick
walked along the lonesome street through the darkness. The wind blew from the side and
puffed through his cloak. There was a theatre in front of him where he was going to watch
the play “Romeo and Julia” his first time. He did not like Shakespeare
especially, but when he saw the actress of Julia he was very fascinated. After the play he
hurried backstage to see this lady. When Derrick found her she was wearing a red dress. He
walked up to her and congratulated her: “Simply great! Really well done!”
”What’s up?” She turned around, saw him and smiled:”Oh! Thank you very
much.”
”I would be grateful to hear your name. I’m Derrick.” he said being a
little embarrassed.
“Sometimes I’m Julia, sometimes Ophelia and sometimes nobody.” she said
smilingly.
Derrick laughed and he thought in his mind he wanted to be the lady with the red dress.
“Do you have time to spare for me on Saturday?” he asked quietly.
She looked into his eyes and answered with a gleeful look: “Why not?”
This
lady seemed very attractive with a certain charm, I thought. I went to bed and continued
reading when I noticed the wonderful songs and stories of the operetta which Arthur had
written.
Derrick
stood at a street corner and watched the sky. He had had another meeting with the lady. He
felt that something had been wrong in the last few days. He did not remember some hours
and the people were very strange to him, but Derrick did not know what was wrong with
them. That morning the postman had delivered his newspaper, thrown it into his front
garden. Suddenly he saw a big placard on the wall and went closer. There was a picture
with a man captioned “WANTED”. Derrick looked at the face of the man and was
shocked. He recognized himself.
Although being totally confused he tried to understand what happened. These strange
occurrences had happened since he first met the lady with the red dress. Maybe she had
done something with him without him noticing it.
Song
no. 5
I had a knife in the hand and stood over a man. He was bloody, he was dead! I had killed
him! I’m a murde…
The
script broke off in the middle of this word. I wondered and thought why grandfather had
not finished the story. Then I turned the light off and slept. I awoke at dead of night
and looked at the clock on my bedside table. Five minutes after midnight. Suddenly I heard
a voice and looked around in my bedroom. There stood a white and lightish ghost.
“Derrick? Derrick! It’s me, your grandfather.”
“Grandfather? Is it you?”
“Yes, it’s me. You have to help me! Finish my operetta or I will never rest in
peace. Finish it!”
He
disappeared and I sat on my bed in shock looking to the place where Arthur had stood last.
It was the 24th of December in the morning when I wrote the end of the
operetta. It took a lot of time but now my grandfather could rest in peace.
Now
I knew what I had to do. The problem was not me, it was this lady. I would only survive,
if she was dead. I looked for the last time in her clear eyes and shot – shot for my
freedom. Now I am free!
T.K.,
10c, Nov.2010
"It
is the same every year," thought Mr. Sqitch walking from tree to tree. Casually he
looked at the other people and families who searched for a Christmas tree, too. He hated
the annual hype about Christmas. Mainly this was due to the fact that he had spent it
alone for the last fifteen years, when his wife got a divorce. Defiantly he grabbed a very
big tree, paid for it and tramped back home.
In
the afternoon he decided to go for a walk. He walked through the streets hearing laughter
and noticed that it was snowing. Suddenly when he was passing the graveyard he heard a
voice.
"Wake up the dead and you will never be alone at Christmas again!"
Mr. Sqitch began to shiver. On the ground in front of him he could see letters, red wet
letters. "A magic spell!" he mumbled not knowing what to do. Of course, this was
very scary and maybe he had to go home, but it was also the answer to his problem. And it
could not be dangerous. The ghosts were dead, weren't they?
So he stood there saying the magic words. Directly when he said the last word he heard a
deafening scream. It was everywhere and horrible. And abruptly it was over. He spotted a
kind of exhalation from every grave. It took form and suddenly he was standing opposite an
army of ghosts.
"Hello", he said in an uncertain way. "Thanks for celebrating Christmas
with me."
"No", the voice whispered. "We thank you!"
And
then they had disappeared. Mr. Sqitch had never seen anything moving faster. Now he
understood. The ghosts had taken advantage of him. They did not want to celebrate
Christmas, they wanted to be free. First he was very sad about this, but then he felt a
kind of anger. Only because he did not want to be alone, he had liberated thousands of
ghosts. This was egoistic. Suddenly he noticed something. In every phase of his life his
actions had been egoistic. Was this the reason for his early retirement, his divorce and
his loneliness? What had happened he could not alter, but he could change his attitude.
Hoping that the ghosts would not bother anybody else, he left the graveyard. And on his
way back home he said "Happy Christmas" to all of the people who were on the
street with the intention in mind to be a friendly man with a big heart from now on.
L.E.,
10b, Nov.2010
It
was the day before Christmas Evening. Ten-year-old John was sitting in his little room
alone. There were not many things around him: a bed, a table, a chair. The window seemed
to be a black hole. It was dark outside. He usually did not feel very lonely, he was
accustomed to being alone. In the orphanage all of the other children were going to
celebrate. They would get presents by some aunts or friends and celebrate Christmas, the
festival of love.
At
that evening he went to bed crying, while he was thinking about his parents, who had died
in an accident. Suddenly he heard someone knocking at the door. Two persons entered the
room, covered in dark coats. John was afraid. But then they took their coats off and he
saw a man and a woman. They seemed to be very pretty and at once he remembered the faces.
The two persons who were standing in his room were his parents. He was so amazed he did
not know what to do. While he was thinking his parents had already hugged him. It was a
lovely feeling, which he had missed for a long time. They explained to him that they were
only ghosts, not real humans. He was really disappointed but also happy to see them. On
top of that they had a present for him. The toy train he had wished for himself for two
years. They talked and played the whole night. It was the most beautiful evening since the
accident of his parents. When he awoke there were not any parents. He thought it had been
a dream and felt so sad. But then he discovered the toy train. Since that evening his
parents visit him every year to celebrate Christmas with him.
A.M.,
10b, Nov.2010
The
winter was especially cold this year. It was so cold that words seemed to freeze in the
air.
“Please, Ma’am, do you have a couple of cents for me? Please…”
Sam looked for the eyes of the people scurrying from one shopping centre to the next like
ghosts in the dusk. He was hoping to get the one dollar he had to pay for a place to sleep
in the doss house, narrow and dirty, but warm.
In the evening he returned to his bench in the park, narrow and dirty - and cold.
“Icy- cold”, he thought, while the tiny snowflakes sang him sadly to sleep into
a dream as clear as Sam had never before.
Red
roses lay on the snow, lay on a grave. An old man stood in front of it, trembling, finally
falling down on his knees. He wished so desperately to caress his wife´s cheek once
again, listen to her laughter, look into her happy blue eyes. He still loved her so badly.
But she was gone.
When Sam woke up, he felt like crying. It was 3 o’ clock in the night, he lay on an
uncomfortable bench in a park in New York and he felt an unbearable pain, so severe, so
strong he could not move. He tried to remember what happened, when the frazzles of his
dream assembled to a memory. And he knew he suffered the pain of the old man.
The following days passed in excitement, sometimes filled with almost curiosity, sometimes
with anxiety what he had to face during the night. Every night one new unknown person
followed the others, whether Sam wanted them to come or not, they came. The faces, their
stories, the people - Sam felt their pain.
There
was Will in a tiny room, posters hanging all over the wall, singers and songwriters from
60ies - 80ies. Will in front of the window, arms folded in front of his chest. And in
front of the boy there was a man, gigantic, threatening, calling him a waste of time, a
good-for-nothing, no longer his son. His father was shouting until his ruins covered the
ground.
There was Molly, a chubby cashier sitting at the till, soaking with sweat and the queue
becoming longer and longer and the complaints louder and louder, attacking her, dressing
her down. Still she tried to smile. It was all in vain.
He got to know Ed, a young broker, saw him coming home, trudging tiredly upstairs. He
opened the wooden door, put his briefcase down, pulled his classy coat off. The flat was large, but there was no one to welcome
him. Home?
Last but not least, there was Elly, in a soft blue dress that had the colour of the sky on
a cloudy day, sitting in front of a kitchen door, her small arms wrapped around her knees,
her face hidden by her blond curled hair - so that nobody could see the tears running
silently down her pale cheeks. She could hear the words and she could feel them. Her
parents were fighting again.
But
the following night Sam waited in vain. And the following night. Days passed and Sam
waited for another encounter. He looked for them in the crowd that swam through the
streets, sure that they were real, more than a dream.
But nothing happened until a grey snowy day a few weeks later. The shops seemed to be
closed that day, the lights in the scrawny trees that had lost their leaves long ago,
seemed to be brighter, and bells rang from afar.
The streets were almost empty, so he decided to lie down in the park already in the late
afternoon. He shuddered, pulled his thin woollen blanket closer and looked in to the dark
blue sky, where a star shone so brightly that he could not avert his eyes. When he looked
down he saw them, some of them more doubtfully, uncertain, but coming one by one.
A little girl told by her parents to let them talking like adults had to do sometimes.
A lanky young man, who had no one to open his door when he returned home.
A chubby woman, who did not know where to go, for the supermarket was closed today.
A teenage boy who tried to collect his ruins.
An old man who came to sit on a bench, where he had sat with his wife so many times, when
his arms could still hold her tight.
Yes,
they all came to Sam, came one after the other, sat down on a red bench in the snow and
held each other´s hands.
They did not speak, they were silent.
They did not laugh, but they smiled.
They were celebrating, all those people who were not needed by anybody, but needed
somebody.
And the star over the park shone so brightly in the dark blue sky that you could see his
light dancing in their eyes.
(It was Christmas Eve.)
J.H.,
10b, Nov.2010
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