My gift to you all: A Christmas story for the Marlborough School of Reiki ;) Happy Christmas everyone. Xxx Christmas morning. It was silent in the Palace. A waiting silence. It was the sort of silence that expects something to happen, interrupted only by the occasional tinkling chime of a Lovely Bug drifting through the passage on the other side of my door. I glanced up at three of them perched on the window frame, glowing faintly in the dawn light. The sunshine glistened through their silvery translucent bodies, splitting itself into a thousand smiling rainbows which danced across the sparkling crystal walls. A faint giggling sound emerged from my trainers on the opposite side of the room. I got up, tossing the duvet into the air as I went. I never make the bed. It always makes itself. As it flew up, it dispersed into a swirling of emerald leaves, which blew about the ceiling as if breathed on suddenly by someone invisible, before gathering together and falling neatly back onto the bed in the form of a faded, almost ordinary looking green duvet. I stepped quietly across the room. The sound of giggling grew louder. I swept up a trainer and then the other, tipping them both upside down together. Several disgruntled Lovely Bugs dropped out of them onto the floor boards. ‘I’m not stepping on you today’ I said, patting each one lightly on the head. ‘Go down to the kitchen and have some breakfast cake. You don’t have to work today.’ ‘It’s funny’ I thought, as I stood there watching them scuttle off and squeeze themselves under the door,’ that any creature would want to spend so much time hiding inside other people’s old shoes in the hope that it might get stepped on.’ Lovely Bugs hide in shoes you see, as it is their life’s ambition to be stepped on. Once you step on them they multiply. No one who lives in the Palace really minds this, as they are such useful little creatures to have around. They eat up the dust and swallow any negative energy that comes their way, but they happen to sing very loudly and sometimes when you are trying to fall asleep after a long day, it can be a bit much. I opened the door a crack and slipped out into the passage and onto the landing. Two Lovely Bugs were bouncing down the stairs like soundless spring coils on the snowy white carpet. It felt soft and glittery beneath my feet. You could almost believe that it was a fresh falling of real snow, with the first rays of morning sunlight rippling across its surface. You could almost believe it, if it weren’t for its warmth between my toes. Warmth that sent waves of light through my feet up to my head each time I took a step. I paused by the arched window on the lower landing. The lopsided, grinning, crescent of a rocking chair moon was slipping slowly into the misty blue forests at the edge of the horizon. It hung there for a moment like a silver star on a Christmas tree, and then tucked itself into the dense shimmering blue, like a card sliding into an envelope. There was a thud from the roof tops. The others would be tobogganing on the roofs. They did it every year, as long as there was enough snow to slide along its crystal surface, and there always was. The delicious smell of cake and freshly baked waffles drifted up to where I stood and I hurried down to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Breakfast cake first’ I thought, ‘then tobogganing.’ Here and there, a Christmas flower was growing through the fronds of silky carpet. ‘Growing powder’ I mused. ‘Someone’s obviously spilled some on the stairs. We’ll have to be more careful, or we might end up growing trees in the passageways, like the oak tree that mysteriously sprouted in the middle of the landing on the fourth floor. Something golden and tinselly was draped over the banister at the bottom of the stairs. It was Jills cloak; the one that spills toffee from the left pocket and chocolate from the right. There was something that looked like a little pile of jewels by the bottom step, but as I got closer, I recognised them as peppermints spilling out of the cloak’s hem. Smiling I popped one into my mouth. Jill had obviously left it here for a reason. Sometimes these magic cloaks act of their own accord in mysterious ways, and one year it hadn’t stopped leaking peppermints on Christmas day, so that everywhere she went, she left a trail of sweets. It was very useful. You always knew where to find her. You just had to follow the peppermints. A shadow stirred by the Palace front door. ‘Pan’ I whispered sharply. A large black panther was slinking in through the open door. ‘You haven’t been after Reindeer again have you?’ I questioned She surveyed me without blinking from her strange yellow green eyes. ‘Never Santa’s’ she said ‘He’s here by the way’ and she padded off into a deep dark side passage. A flurry of snowflakes blew through the doorway, and as they caught in my hair and melted into my skin, another wave of lightness washed through me. A rough brown sack was spilling brown paper packages onto the floor just inside the doorway. ‘Dear Sandra’ I read on the label of the closest package. ‘Within the folds of this parcel is all you need to change the world. It contains seven paintbrushes and with each paintbrush comes a bottle of light. Within each bottle is a drop of happiness. These brushes paint through dark emotions, and clear sadness, bringing brightness and beauty to the pictures of our lives and the lives of others, who would find joy in a little magic. Use them well, and what you paint will come back to you.’ I picked up the next package. ‘Dear Nara’ it read ‘May you find this tub of Phoenix fire useful. It is a good friend for times of change and works best when you share it with those who need a little sparkle in their lives. It is best used one flame at a time, and will always rekindle itself.’ The one next to it was addressed to Kaz. ‘A carpet of adventures’ it read. ‘Travels at the speed of light. Do not test indoors’. A large, unusual shaped package lay across the doorway. ‘Dear Christina. This is a guitar that plays through people and places. It can sing any message you wish, to those who are far away at any time. Its sound has no boundaries. It seeps into souls and the closed places of the world, opening them up gently, so that they might see the world with fresh eyes.’ A jingling of bells from outside made me put the package aside. I stepped out onto the doorstep. A warm golden morning of snow and light greeted me. Eleven magnificent Reindeer stood at the edge of the Palace, stamping their feet in the snow, and breathing sunshine into the air. The eleventh was a silvery opal colour and stood at the front of the group. A tall thin man in a brown cloak was standing with his back to me, clipping a harness onto the last Reindeer. He did not look remotely like Santa. ‘Are you going already?’ I queried. He turned towards me, and though his face was hidden by a large hood, two kind, brown eyes shone out from its depths like stars in a dark sky. ‘The dawn has passed’ he said ‘and we must be on our way’ Louise wandered outside to join us. She was holding a tiny lamb nestled within her arms. ‘Isn’t he lovely’ she said ‘He came wandering up to my room and bleated outside the door.’ ‘I did not think he would appreciate waiting with the other gifts’ said Santa. Louise placed the lamb down gently and pulled a paper wrapped something from her pocket. ‘For you’ she said, handing it to Santa. ‘It’s some of our breakfast cake she told him. He opened the paper and crumbled the cake. As he lifted his arms the sleeves of his brown cloak fell down to his elbows and we noticed the deep scars on his hands and wrists. There was a beating of wings and out from the palace roof tops flew a multitude of doves, landing on his shoulders and hood, and settling upon his arms. Each dove took a crumb and flew off again into the brightness of the morning. Just one crumb was left in the palm of his hand. He knelt down and gave a whistle. ‘For you my friend’ he said. A little robin watched him inquisitively from the boughs of a holy tree a few feet away. Then it hopped forward and gave a merry chirp before accepting the last crumb and darting off into the shrubbery. ‘Thank you’ he said, turning to us. He looked vaguely familiar. It was strange, but though he bore not the slightest resemblance to Santa, I had the feeling I’d known him all my life. That feeling you get when you meet a very good friend after a long absence. ‘That was the best cake I’ve ever tasted’. We stared at him As he climbed into his sleigh, he looked back over his shoulder and with a wink he added ‘Life always tastes best when you share it.’ Then he was gone, speeding away into the misty horizon, like a shooting star of immense beauty. And we turned slowly and wandered quietly back into the Palace.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Dec 2014 19:37:19 +0000
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