Reindeer Rescue

If Mary had not been woken by the reindeer, she would have never been out in the back garden to see Gary jump off the bridge into the river.

 

The sound of leather hitting skin echoed through the cold farmhouse. The drunken farmer once again whipping his offspring for behaviour he deemed unfitting. The cries of pain seemingly going unheard as the belt connected with the child’s back, between the shoulder blades.

“Father, please stop, I’m sorry!” Abigail cried out in pain. The old man sneered and continued dishing out the punishment while swearing and calling Abigail by whatever nasty names he could imagine.

Unable to stand the torture any more, Abigail made one last break for freedom. Kicking the man in the stomach, the child rushed towards the door and out into the freezing night air.

“I will get you for that, you little shit!” the farmer exclaimed as he started to give chase.

Outside the child was staggering out of the farmyard through the snowdrifts. Abigail knew that the cold would be fatal. Wearing only nightclothes and leather slippers, the cold would soon claim its victim. At least it would be in a place and means of Abigail’s choosing, not that of the despicable father.

The laughter of the father cut through the cold air as he watched. “Come back and face me,” he slurred at the child struggling through the snow.

Hearing a noise to his left, he turned and saw the reindeer charging towards him. The impact caused him to be tossed in the air, landing a short distance away in a crumpled heap. Grabbing the unconscious farmer by the collar, the animal started dragging him into the barn.

It was Christmas Eve and the outside temperature was one degree below freezing. In a few minutes time the clock in the hall would chime midnight, signifying the beginning of Christmas day. Mary was sleeping alone in the cottage. Her parents were down the road at their neighbours, having drinks with friends.

At the age of twelve Mary didn’t really believe in Father Christmas any more, but nevertheless was still excited about waking up to numerous presents, that at that moment, were sitting under the tree in the living room.

Mary was not sleeping very well, and kept waking up to glance at the clock. It was just after midnight when she thought she heard something in the garden. The sound of hooves on the patio and the jingling of bells emanated from outside of her window. At first, she thought that she must have been hearing things. Santa is just a story, isn’t he? The sounds continued and curiosity insisted that the noise be investigated.

Peaking out into the back garden, she was surprised to see a reindeer standing on the patio munching on one of her mother’s potted shrubs. Grabbing her camera and donning her slippers and thick pink dressing gown, she headed out into the cold night air to investigate.

The animal ignored her as she carefully opened the back door and started taking photographs. A road goes down the side of the cottage and over the river that runs through the back of the property. A couple of streetlights illuminate the garden through the now bare trees. The dim light is enough for the camera to be operated without flash, allowing the young girl to take some shots of the creature.

The reindeer is obviously tame. Mary noticed the collar round the animal’s neck, on which were six bells that jingled every time the beast shook its head. The odd grunt could be heard as it munched on the leaves of the evergreen shrub. Attached to the collar was a length of rope, at least fifteen feet long. The frayed end showing that the mammal was once tied up. Quite how it has managed to escape is not known.

Mary cautiously approached the reindeer. It stopped and looked at her before turning back to eating the garden plants. Still taking photos, Mary walked up and stroked the animal’s neck. It was easily as tall as she was.

The young girl tried to work out where the reindeer came from. Following the hoof marks back across the garden, she was surprised to see them disappear in the middle of the lawn, as if the animal had appeared from thin air. Could it be possible this reindeer flew into the garden?

Hearing footsteps in the snow along the road Mary turned and saw a young boy on the bridge. The boy was wearing pyjamas, very unsuitable for the chill of the night air. He walked half way across the bridge and came to a stop. Mary watched on in confusion as the boy climbed the stone side of the bridge and sat with his legs dangling out over the water.

Alarmed, she put her camera down and ran towards the bridge. The reindeer followed her. The garden stretches to the riverbank, the lawn finishing at the water’s edge.

The young boy looked up at the stars in the sky. Stretching his hands out horizontally, he straightened his legs, causing him to fall face first into the icy cold river. Mary screamed at the top of her lungs. The boy disappeared underwater for a second before returning to the surface face down. The shock of hitting the water appeared to have knocked him out.

Kicking off her slippers and dressing gown Mary grabbed the long rope attached to the reindeer. Running to the river’s edge, tying the rope round her waist as she went, Mary dived into the icy water, swimming towards the young boy.

As she hit the water, a shout was heard coming from the open door of the cottage. Mary’s parents were walking home when they heard their daughters scream. Dashing in the front of the building, they find the bedroom empty. Noticing the back door ajar, they headed outside in time to see Mary diving into the icy cold river.

The shock of the cold water winded the young girl, but her determination allowed Mary to fight the pain. Forcing her complaining muscles to propel herself through the water, Mary intercepted the boy as they were both carried down the slow moving river. Grabbing the boy around the waist, she twisted herself round in the water, wrapping both of them in the rope.

Mary’s father, Dr Mike Roberts, dashed to the riverbank, followed closely by his wife Anne. As they reach the reindeer, they hear the shout of their daughter.

“Pull us in!” Mary managed to splutter while desperately hanging onto the unconscious boy. She was succumbing to the cold of the river and could barely move as her muscles cramped under the conditions.

On the command of the little girl, the reindeer immediately started trotting towards the house. The slack in the rope was quickly pulled tight and the animal used its might to drag the two children to safety. Dr Roberts also grabbed the rope and assisted the efforts to bring them ashore.

Anne ran to the river’s edge and as soon as the children were in reach, she pulled them from the river. The rope was untied and the two youngsters were taken inside. Unable to walk due to the cold, Mary was carried by her mother. Dr Roberts brought the boy.

The reindeer calmly picked up the discarded slippers and dressing gown in its mouth and trotted back to the cottage. Depositing the items through the open door, it turned and fetched the discarded camera, once again placing it inside. Getting hold of the handle with its teeth it pulled the door shut before breaking into a run as it headed from the cottage, leaving in the same fashion as it arrived.

Laying the boy down in front of the fireplace the doctor quickly started to perform mouth to mouth and chest compressions. Anne took her daughter into the bathroom and stripped the young girl of her wet clothes. Taking some warm towels from the cupboard, she wrapped the shivering girl and patted her dry.

They both headed through to the living room where Mike had managed to revive the young boy. He was now led in the recovery position on the rug covered by a blanket. Anne lit the gas fire and turned the heat up to warm the two children. Mary was shivering uncontrollably, and the boy was still unconscious on the floor.

Having stabilised the young lad, the doctor turned to his daughter to check her condition.

“He’ll be okay; he is suffering from hypothermia but will recover. How are you feeling,” he asked his daughter.

“Cold,” Mary replied looking at the boy led in front of her. “I’ll be okay once I warm up a bit, that water took all the energy out of me.”

“What happened, who is this boy and how did he end up in the river?” Mike asked.

“His name is Gary Matthews. He’s thirteen and goes to my school. I heard the reindeer outside, so went to investigate with my camera. While watching the animal I spotted him climb the bridge and jump in the river. It wasn’t an accident,” Mary stated.

“You mean he tried to kill himself,” Anne said, shocked. Mary simply nodded.

Gary started to stir. He felt so cold, but at the same time could feel the warmth on his skin. Opening his eyes, he could see a gas fire blazing in front of him. Rolling onto his back, he saw three worried faces watching him. He recognised Mary from school, and he had seen Dr Roberts once at the surgery. He assumed the women must be the wife and mother.

Seeing that his patient was now awake, the doctor started to ask a few simple questions. After correctly giving the day and identifying how many fingers were being held up, the doctor asked him for his name.

The boy had to think about this, as for some reason his thoughts were still cloudy. At first, he was confused, and then his memory started to return, he answered softly, “Abigail. Abigail Matthews.”

This surprised the adults sitting in the room. Mary however simply smiled at the response.

Saying his own name woke the boy up from his stupor and he remembered why he was here. He had jumped off the bridge by their house. Mary was sat wrapped in towels, shivering, and he figured she must have pulled him out of the river.

Gary paused and closed his eyes, sighing. Opening them and looking the onlookers in the eye, he said in a sad and dejected voice, “Gary Matthews, my name is Gary Matthews.”

“You wouldn’t happen to use the screen name Abi97M on the local TG chat room?” Mary asked, “I’m MissBobbieSnow12.”

Tears formed in the boy’s eyes as he nodded. Mary grinned and wrapped the boy in a big hug.

“Nice to finally meet you in person Abigail,” she said, kissing the crying boy on the cheek. “You are safe here. I will say again, what I have told you online. I will always be your friend, no matter what. I never realised you were so close.”

As the two children lay together on the floor, wrapped in each other’s arms, the two adults looked on puzzled at the exchange between the two.

“Abigail and I have been talking online in the support group for the past six months. I knew she was transgendered and that she lived on a farm, but never put two and two together to work out that Abigail and Gary are the same person,” Mary explained. “What happened, you haven’t been online in weeks, why were you trying to kill yourself?”

“My father hates me. He found out about my cross-dressing a few weeks ago. I was always afraid to tell him about the real me. When I tried to explain that I am transgendered, he flew into a rage. I have been trying to reason with him ever since, but he would never listen,” Abigail told them, “I couldn’t take any more, he was giving me another beating with his belt. I kicked him and ran out into the snow. I stumbled down the lane until I came to the bridge. I saw the cottages and considered seeking help, but the water looked so appealing and I couldn’t face the thought of ending up being taken home.”

The boy broke down into tears, sobbing in Mary’s arms.

Abigail awoke in a strange bed. Looking around the room, she tried to work out where she was. The memory of the night before came flooding back. She tried to kill herself in the river and one of her school friends, who was also her anonymous pen pal, had rescued her. She felt a warm hand stroke her bare belly under the covers, and Mary’s head appeared from under the duvet.

“Morning, Abigail, feeling any better?” Mary grinned at her sleeping companion.

“I assume that this is your bed,” Abigail stated, “and I appear to be naked,” she added having run her hand down her side to feel for nightclothes.

“We both are. Your pyjamas were soaked, as were mine. I could have put on a spare pair, but thought it would fairer if we were both naked,” Mary replied.

“I must be dreaming,” Abigail stated, before yelping as Mary pinched a very delicate bit of her male anatomy.

“Nope, this is for real,” Mary said, “and before you ask, my parents are fully aware that their twelve year old daughter is snuggled up with a thirteen year old male. Until about an hour ago they were taking it in turns to stay awake and watch us sleep to make sure neither of us had any lasting effects of hypothermia. You effectively died out their last night. If I hadn’t seen you go in the river, well let’s not linger on that thought.”

Abigail could feel the warmth of Mary’s body pressing against her. She would have been content to lay in bed all day, but her bladder was insisting she do otherwise.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Abigail stated.

“Me too, I will show you the way,” Mary replied, flinging the duvet onto the floor, exposing both of them. Abigail squealed and hurriedly covered her groin with her hands. Mary giggled and stood up in front of her friend, not bothered by been seen naked.

“Don’t be so embarrassed, I used to have one of those as well,” Mary grinned. Abigail looked on in astonishment. Mary looked to be one hundred percent female. However, due to their conversations online, both children knew a lot more about each other than they ever realised.

Mary had been born intersexed. She had a vagina and penis, but no testicles, ovaries or womb. Her parents, rather than just assigning a sex at birth, had waited until she could make the decision for herself. Having alternatively lived as both a boy and a girl, Joseph Mary Roberts had made a decision to be a girl on her ninth birthday and never again switched back to being a boy. Just after her tenth birthday, Mary had surgery to hide her anomaly. Having moved to this part of the country a few months later, she was able to have a fresh start living as a girl. Because of her appearance, she has no trouble in using the communal girls’ changing rooms at school.

Both children were members of an online community for young transgendered individuals. Although Mary didn’t consider herself as transgendered, she did have similar issues and liked to share her experiences with others going through similar problems. It was through the chat room that she met Abigail, a young male who longed to be a girl but was too afraid to come into the open. Neither child realised that the other lived only a mile away.

Mary led them both across the hall into the bathroom. She let Abigail use the toilet first while she started the shower. Both children shared the shower, washing the river water off from the night before. Abigail found it odd to be in such close contact with a girl, but understood why Mary seemed reluctant to leave her alone. She suspected she would do the same if one of her friends had tried to jump off the bridge.

They returned to Mary’s room wrapped in towels having gotten themselves clean.

“As you can probably guess, the only clothes that are currently available are mine,” Mary stated. “You can borrow anything you like. I think I already know the answer, but I will ask anyway. Would you like to wear these boyish jeans and t-shirt, or this dress?”

Abigail stared at the dress Mary brought out of her wardrobe. It was a beautiful red pleated Christmas dress edged in white fur. The grin on Abigail’s face stretched from ear to ear as she took the dress from Mary.

Mary was originally going to wear the dress herself, however she knew her friend would get more enjoyment out of it. She instead decided to get out her green skirt and lacy cream blouse. After handing Abigail a training bra, knickers and tights, both girls got dressed. Mary had several pairs of slippers in the bottom of her cupboard and was able to supply both of them with footwear.

The two children proceeded into the kitchen where Anne Roberts was busy chopping vegetables for the Christmas lunch. Looking at the clock, Abigail realised the time, it was already half past ten on Christmas day.

“Hi girls, you both look pretty this morning,” Anne stated as Abigail blushed at the compliment. “Abigail, don’t be embarrassed about being yourself here, nobody is going to criticise you. You can decide to present yourself as either a boy or a girl, or something in-between. We will support you no matter what mode you are in.”

“Where’s daddy?” Mary asked.

“He has gone up to the Matthews Farm with Constable Turner,” Anne replied. Turning to their guest she added, “We need to let your father know where you are. Don’t worry; you won’t be forced to return back there. We have all seen the wounds on your back. That counts as child abuse, and there is no way we will let you go back to that situation.”

Mary grabbed a couple of apples from the fruit bowl. Handing one to her friend, they both sat at the kitchen table and ate while Mrs Roberts continued preparing the Christmas meal. The turkey was already in the oven, however they didn’t know exactly when they would be sitting down to eat, as all their plans had been thrown out by the events of the previous night.

Ten minutes later, Mike Roberts came in the back door. After removing his coat and boots, he came and sat at the kitchen table with the other three people. They waited for him to speak, all eager to hear the fate of Mr Matthews.

“Abigail,” he said, acknowledging that the young boy had chosen to dress as a girl, “I am sorry to say that your father has died. We found him in the barn on top of some hay bales, covered in blankets.
His arm was broken and ankle twisted. It looks like he was able to drag himself into the barn and cover himself up, but it wasn’t enough to protect him from the cold.”

The child sat quietly, thinking about the news. The others watched and waited for the reaction, ready to provide comfort should it be needed. Instead of the emotional breakdown and inevitable crying that they expected, a broad smile appeared on the youngster’s face and she started to laugh.

Seeing the shocked expressions on everybody’s faces Abigail explained, “I am sorry if I seem callous, but I have no feelings left for the man who was once my father. When my mother died two years ago, a large part of him died with her. He was a shadow of his former self, and descended into booze. If he had been sober, he would be alive. His rejection of me was the final straw in killing off any love that I felt for him. As far as I am concerned, my father died two years ago when we buried my mother. I find it ironic that the fate that was to become of me, freezing to death unloved, has happened to him instead.”

Christmas dinner was slightly late that year, but the four participants enjoyed the meal before retiring to sit round the fire.

“Aren’t you guy’s going to open all the presents sat under your tree?” Abigail asked. “I hope you are not putting off the task due to my being here with nothing to open. I know I won’t be getting any presents this year. While I may be slightly jealous, I won’t be upset, and I don’t want to spoil your fun.”

“Actually you do have one present,” Mike replied, slightly nervously, “I found it under your tree at the farm and brought it back.”

The man handed the box to the child. The label read, “To Gary. Merry Christmas. Love from Dad.”

Abigail unwrapped and opened the box to find a polythene bag of coal. Laughing she lifted the bag of coal out of the box to reveal a steam engine kit hiding underneath.

“Classic Dad,” Abigail said, a tear running down her face. “He always insisted naughty boys and girls only received coal from Santa. It doesn’t surprise me that the first thing I see opening the present from him is some coal. He used to have such a great sense of humour; I thought that part of him had died along with mother.”

“Do you like steam engines,” Mary asked, wondering if this was going to cause her friend to be upset.

“Actually, yes I do, and I had asked for this as a present as I am fascinated by anything mechanical,” Abigail replied, “However, this doesn’t mean I’m any less of a girl. I knew I would never receive dresses and makeup from my father.”

After a minutes silence, where nobody spoke or moved, Abigail picked up a present from under the tree, handing it to Mary. “Now it’s your turn,” she said grinning, “I don’t need any other presents. I received the best gift early this morning: a second chance at life, one that I don’t intend to throw away. I know the road ahead will be difficult, but I am ready to face the challenge head on. Merry Christmas Mary, and thank you.”