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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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Christmas in July #823470 added July 24, 2014 at 6:04pm
Restrictions: None
The Beginning
Nicklaus sat in front of a small, miserable fire. He had little wood to burn and the snow lay heavily outside. Tears ran dirty rivulets down his cheeks. I miss you, Poppa, he thought as he rummaged through the food he had left. Three potatoes, a wilted hunk of cabbage and a few swallows of cold soup.
The door opened and his Aunt Yumpka came in with a gust of wind.
"Oh Nicklaus, I don't know what we will do," she sobbed. Wringing her hands, she continued, "Your Uncle says we cannot feed another mouth. As it was, your poor Poppa barely kept you both in food with his little carvings."
"I can carve, Auntie," said Nick. "Poppa was teaching me." Running across the rude little hut, Nick opened a hide-bound trunk and drew forth two figurines. He handed them to the woman. She looked at first one and then the other. These weren't the crudely carved people like his father made. These were finely done, with expressions on the small faces. She could clearly recognize both of Nicklaus' parents.
"These are very good, but with tough times, how will they help?"
"I can go over the mountain, Aunt, and sell them in Jarlsburg. The people there have money. I've already started on one of the Mayor. I've got one of a horse. I have ten more toys plus what Poppa did before he died. I can collect more wood on my trip home and carve more."
"It might be a solution, if you don't have to burn them just to stay warm!"
"I will keep my fingers warm by carving," he answered with a smile.
Two weeks later, Nicklaus bundled up the carvings into a sack, threw it over his shoulder and began the several hour trek to Jarlsburg. It was a difficult hike for the path was icy. He was cold and hungry, but knew the hike would keep him warm and if all went well, he would sell enough carving to buy supplies.
Nick was almost to the village when he saw a little girl sitting outside her hut. Her ragged wool coat was open and he could see that she was cold.
"Little girl, why isn't have your coat buttoned against the wind?"
She showed him. "The buttons are all broken. My Granny has thread, but we have no buttons."
Nick thought for a moment, then seeing a knot-holed piece of wood in the woodpile, poked the knot out of the hole. He used his knife to saw the knot into several slices. He used his awl to punch two holes through the wood and gave them to the girl.
"Buttons! You made me buttons," she said joyfully. "Wait here while I show Granny!" She came out a moment later with a warm potato in her mittened fingers. "Granny hopes you accept this for the buttons."
Nick nodded; his mouth was full of potato. He continued into town. He saw was an old man leaning on a stonewall. In his hands he held two pieces of his broken crutch. He could see the man's left leg was several inches shorter than his right. After a moment, Nick dug in his pack and pulled out a long narrow bowl. He tied the bowl to the man's shoe. It wasn't perfect, but now the man's legs were almost the same length and he could walk without his crutch.
"You are good with wood, young man. Let me introduce you to my friend, Gregor." The man came up with a few coins which he insisted Nick take for the bowl.
In the village square, Nick met Gregor who helped him set out his wares. Gregor told everyone about Nick's goods. By early afternoon, he'd sold almost everything. He sold the doll to a woman with a fine fur coat, the horse to a man who raised horses,and a carving of a bird to a young man who thought his wife would like it hanging in their window at home. Nick had made enough money to buy plenty of provisions and still had money left when he headed home.
After spending the next two weeks carving more figurines, bowls, walking sticks and dolls, Nicklaus again trekked over the mountain. Passing the little girl's house, he left a doll wrapped in cloth along with a packet of wooden buttons by her front door. Again, Nick sold all his carvings. He liked seeing all the different people. He noticed who had what and who didn't.
The next time Nick headed over the mountain was the day before the Feast of Christ's Mass. The little girl saw him coming and came out to thank him for her doll.
"What doll?" he asked.
"You didn't leave me the doll and the buttons?" she asked.
Nick just smiled. During the course of the following year, Nicklaus became a better carver. He'd become very successful and there was a growing demand for his work. He moved into a bigger cabin high on a hill and gave two orphaned children jobs working for him. He gave them a home, fed and clothed them in exchange for their keeping his secret.
On the eve of the next Christ Mass, Nick and his helpers made a secret trip over the mountain and all around his village.
The next morning people gathered together to tell of their surprise presents.
"Maybe it was Nicklaus? said the little girl's grandmother to Gregor as he watched the child play with her doll and her new cradle.
"I think it was Nick," said Yumpka, showing off her carving of a butterfly. "But he won't admit it."
"The man is a saint," said the old man holding his new walking stick.
Up in his cabin, Nicklaus slept and dreamed of what he would do next year.
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Write a short story or poem about Santa Claus. BUT there is a catch. You cannot use the following words: Santa, beard, white, red, or sleigh.
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