The Tramp

A Short Christmas Story by Tanya Allan

I first wrote this in 2007, but thought it would be appropriate to submit it here for you at this festive time. This is the first Sunday in Advent, so my prayer for you all is that your wishes come true... eventually!

It was the night before Christmas, Andy was kneeling on the end of his bed with the curtains open; his nose pressed against the windowpane. It was snowing, so he was watching the view from his bedroom window transform itself from the usual vista of fields and hedgerows into a white paradise.

Through the near infinite reaches of space-time, a single shaft of power pierces multiple realms, connecting them so close to instantaneously that the difference cannot be measured by anything less than a god. And when something this powerful punches a hole through a group of realities, something is bound to get pulled into its wake.

Or someone, as the case may be ...
 

“Come,” she said playfully, “I have no romantic illusions about my own brother — I know perfectly well she loves you a hundred times better than you deserve. If it were any other woman, I would try to discourage her by telling her embarrassing stories about you, but Launuru already knows them all, so I'll just have to accept your good fortune.”

Launuru hated herself for her cowardice as soon as she'd run away, but was too ashamed to go back. It was too late to fix things; she'd gambled her relationship with Verentsu, hoping to turn friendship into love, but now she'd made such a mess that there was probably no way they could go back to being friends.

In another part of the kingdom a woman gets up from a deep sleep. She moves to her writing table, sits down and using the sharp tip of the quill blade pokes her thumb. She then allows 5 drops of her blood to mix with the ink pad which she then grinds for some ink for the quill. Choosing a suitible square cut vellum she draws intricate circles and lines which magically disappear into the vellum. Next she carefully puts runes and letters all over which also disappear into the vellum. Putting aside that vellum she chooses a new vellum and writes a series of letters. When done the extra ink is washed away and the two parchments are rolled one over the other. She then moves to the door and opens it a few inches to hand out the parchment to an asleep page who takes the parchment and moves on his way. Thus done the woman returns to her bed unaware of what just happened.

For all this was done without both the woman, who is actually a priestess, and the page ever opening their eyes once.

I sat alone on the little park bench and contemplated the chance that had been offered to me. Slowly rolling the golden wish coin between my fingers. It had passed into my hands earlier that week but I really had nothing I wanted, I was pretty successful, and fairly wealthy... even in my advanced age.

The only thing I could have ever improved upon is my utter loneliness, up until about 10 years ago that too would have been far beyond my needs. The day that I lost my beautiful wife of 63 years was the day that I died as well. I frowned and looked at the remarkable coin, If only it would have come sooner... maybe I could have saved my dear wife.

Darn muses and their insistance on writing.. now if only they could keep their musing on one story at a time.. sigh

I don’t know if there is a contest for this or not. It just came to me while I was about to lay down for a nap. May need a bit of editing, and maybe a bit more added, but this is most of the story.

It was late, very late. He parked his old car for the night. Although it was a silver car, you couldn’t tell as it was mostly orange with rust. You could hear the tinkle of the engine cooling, as he fiddled with the plug for the car. If it wasn’t plugged in all the time, it would not start.

“What's your custom here in Niluri?” Kazmina asked. “Is a woman normally allowed to ask a man to marry her? It's hard to judge from Tsavila or you what women are normally expected to act like here; even in Setuaznu, enchantresses are allowed more privileges than mundane women, and as for you...”

{Please read up to Chapter 10.1 of Everything’s Sunny with Sarah, and all 14 chapters of Boys Don’t Cry would help. This is the story as the Universe rewrites itself thanks to the some meddling old ladies. Don’t worry though: Sarah won’t forget her struggle, and some new ones may be on the horizon as a consequence... ;-)

Written by Zoe Taylor, Input by Darkkitten (Ashleigh)

Authors Notes:

Thank you all for being supportive and reading my stories and what not, I also appreciated all the comments left, and took into heart as I finished this chapter the biggest complaint you all had, so enjoy reading :)

Also I'd still like to thank Zoe for letting me write this and giving me a direction to go with this chapter :) *hugs*

True to Eva Crowley’s words, the part of Sally that she wanted to forget slowly started to fade from her mind. By the time they had finished setting up for Meghan’s party, almost all of Michael’s memories had faded, and what remained lingered like a dream at best.. The girls were having so much fun with the decorations that they completely lost track of time.

“Crap, we need to get home,” said Sally, looking at her lavender Hello Kitty watch.