Father Clery had just finished reading a story to Peter. He rose from his chair and closed the book. “It’s time to go to bed, Peter,” he said.
“Father Clery, is it true that it hasn’t snowed here for a hundred years?”
“That is true.”
“Nobody really knows,” Father Clery said. “That is one of the mysterious this town has.”
“Do you think it will snow this year?”
“I couldn’t say,” Father Clery said. “We can certainly hope. Now go to sleep.” He turned off the lights and closed the door behind him. But Peter couldn’t sleep. It was too early to go to bed. His mind was filled with many thoughts about snow and Christmas and a man that rode the star. He turned to face his window where the moon’s light, spill into his room. How magical it looked, even from afar. He propped his head on his hand and quietly thought for a minute or two. “MacFie, what’s his name?”
MacFie was floating on the wall, looking up at the ceiling. He had really enjoyed Father Clery’s story. “Who’s name?”
“The man that rides the shooting star.”
“I think it’s Mr. Plock or maybe Mr. Bemus,” MacFie thought for a moment. “It was funny sounding, like Dobbie. Dimples. Dopey. Hmm, Bogie. That’s it!” He snapped his fingers. “It was Mr. Bogie.”
“What an odd name,” Peter yawned. “Tomorrow night, Father Clery said we were going caroling.”
“Caroling? What is that?”
“I don’t know,” Peter yawned again. “Well, we better get some sleep. I will know more tomorrow. Good night, MacFie.”
“Good night, Peter.”
The next night, Father Clery was getting all the boys ready to go caroling. “Now, now. Everybody calm down. We have practiced enough and tonight will be our first caroling.”
“What if they don’t like us?” objected a boy.
“We will be fine,” Father Clery assured them. “We are collecting for charity not entertaining for the masses.”
“What if they throw tomatoes at us?” expressed another boy.
“Or stones,” said another.
“Father Clery,” said a five year old. “I’ve heard they throw tomatoes to caterwaulers.”
“We won’t be caterwauling and they won’t throw stones or tomatoes,” Father Clery clarified. “Everybody line up. Jacob, do you have the pail to collect the money.” A boy, Peter’s age raised the red pail to show him. “Very well, let’s be on our way,” Father Clery said. Out into the cold afternoon they went, not really eager to do their caroling, only Father Clery was in good spirits. They came upon their first home, Father had them line up in two rows like he taught them. He cleared his throat, raised the bell he carried and with one nod, had them began their song. M. Stieg
To be continued..