Christmas with Mr Frost

There’s loud muttering in the White City, the kind that awakened when there were no lights. But the noise will die down, when they gather in the streets.

What a winter miracle it would be if these would be the days we would read each other our favourite stories, even but a line that would spark a conversation. How the goof balls would make funny faces to make the little ones laugh. How we would dig our teeth in our favourite meal and laugh with spit flying as we speak around the dinner table.

But nobody expected that we would be divided by our beliefs and life experiences. Nobody would wish to gossip or suggest that we are just as unpredictable as a lioness, and how do we solve that when the Christmas spirit pick and chooses?

How do we make the people merry when the snow has not yet come, instead a misfortune has fallen on the land.

The wind gave us cold strokes on our arms with its hand, it was like it was consoling us from the trouble we were in. The light bulbs stood high but they did not glow, the shops stood erected but no heads can be seen through the window.

They told us homes with hearths, walls and roofs, offer us protection from the elements, and warmth away from the bustling life. But even more, it provides us privacy. So when I settle my bowels and empty my bladder, where do I go?

I go to work, but that’s out of necessity, not because I want to and there are many reasons behind that, but in White City, we can’t go to work today or ever; there is a catastrophic cyberattack and our communication networks have collapsed.

**

‘When was the last time you’ve eaten, young one?’ A man with frosty silvery hair and kind eyes spoke to the little girl in tattered clothing, framing the height of what looked like a seven year old.

‘I don’t know Mr, but my stomach shrinks and it makes these sounds’ her big eyes sparkled with hunger, but she never reached out a hand and the growling started again.

‘Will a single stale cracker help that little noise?’ The man asked with a smile, he was pleased with her deference.

I moved over to them, crossing the road with no bus or cars forming shadows. As well as the power grids failing, the transportation system seemed to have grinded to a halt, for reasons no more than a broken heart that the spirit of Christmas never came, the moment they could stay home. But soon enough cars and buses will be stationary, and the streets will be fertile having many feet going to and fro on it.

Before then:

‘You’re kind Sir, but do you have more for the noise in your tummy?’

‘Mine don’t matter as much as yours, but never you mind, here, show me your hand’

He lowered himself to the height of the little girl, she hesitated for a little while, but she reached for the cracker not finding any more reason to resist — and with a soft bite, she chewed and swallowed.

‘Can I come?’ The man was heading back inside his house, reaching a point of struggle in his mind. What is an old man doing with a little girl? Kindness was the only thing he could extend. Unless they go into the trees together, on the other side he would grant her a white christmas, of my doing.

***

‘Mr frost, do you mind if I wish us a feast?’ It had been a while since the moment they went through the tree next to his home, the tree I’ve touched with my own fingertip. Moving from a concrete ground, they have found themselves crunching on the snow under their shoes.

They won’t know this, but my little elf controls their minds, thoughts and action. I was born of the Christmas spirit, only reserved for those who would open up their hearts.

He chuckled.

‘And how exactly would you do that?’

‘It’s easy, all I have to do is close my eyes and count to three’

‘One.’

‘Two.’

‘Three.’

Nothing happened. But her lips did not make a frown, instead she was hopeful. Hope grew into her heart like the stars appear to grow in the darkness of the sky. Their clothing transformed, the little girl wore a dress under a long coat made of wool and the old man wore a suit under his long coat.

The table began to materialise in front of them and a Christmas tree appeared with gifts underneath. Though they both weren’t certain if this was apart of the decoration. The lights grew in personalities, there were red, greens, orange, they danced around the tree like little angels that didn’t need wings or movement.

The smell of Turkey, the sight of mash potatoes: Christmas pudding, pigs in blankets, beef wellington, Brussels sprouts and more, stood still and fragrant on the table, which was standing stiff with polished wood.

They both reached for one thing or the other, cheekily avoiding the Brussels sprouts.

‘ I suppose it’s a bit too far in our dinner to ask this question, but w-where are your parents?’

‘They died, an angel told me that everybody can be my mama and papa , don’t you agree Mr Frost?’

‘Oh yes, that’s right. But how… how did they die?’ He hesitated.

‘The doctors said it was poor decisions and stress from work.’

‘Hmm,’ Mr frost contemplated, before taking another bite of his Brussels sprouts.

A/ N Thank you so much for both your time and attention, I really appreciate it if you got this far. I don’t know if this one counts but I will enter it anyway. 🙏🤗♥️