Peter’s First Christmas (part one)


Peter does not ever recall ever having a Christmas. He was born some time ago, around midnight, is all he was told. He has been an orphan since he can remember. He was shuffled from home to home, each worst than the other.

“Christmas is not for orphan boys,” they would tell him, shunning him away from what Christmas was. By the age of six he was finally sent to  St. Mary’s Orphanage School for Boys where he became aware of his shadow, MacFie.

At the orphanage, they were getting ready for Christmas. Father Clery and the others began to decorate St. Mary with festive wreaths, candles, holly, evergreen boughs, mistletoes and garlands, everywhere. The boys busy themselves with making their cards, to give and receive from one another. The mood was jocund and convivial, with something mystical brewing in the air. It felt wonderful and even mysterious in an extraordinary way. For the first time, Peter would be celebrating Christmas. But, Peter didn’t know what Christmas was about. That night, when everyone had fallen asleep, Peter lay awake. He could hardly sleep since this whole Christmas scene began. He stared out his window where the moon shined brightly and full.

“MacFie, do you know what Christmas is?” Peter said.

MacFie, stretched out from where Peter’s bed cast a shadow on the wall. “Christmas,” he said. “I’ve heard stories about it.”

“What kind of stories?” Peter said.

“They say a magical being rides a shooting star from place to place granting wishes for boys and girls.”

“What does he look like?”

“Nobody knows. But some say he wears a long white robe and a matching cap. He is as old as Father Time with rosy cheeks and a twinkle in his eyes. If you pay attention, you can see him riding the star, smiling from above,” said MacFie.

“How can that be?” said Peter. “Does he really exist?”

“I’ve heard the elders tell this story,” said MacFie. “That you must believe or he will pass you by in a wink of an eye.”

Peter was fascinated by what MacFie had told him that he wanted to see this man on a shooting star. M. Stieg

to be continued…