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Posted by Sebastian on Mar 12, 2010 16:20:50 GMT -6
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May 18, 2013 11:53:12 GMT -6
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(This thread is open to anyone who would like to post belated Christmas solos, but no pressure if you don't want to add anything.)
(P.S. Yay for Poe and Longfellow!)
--
Watching.
Colorful paper ball mice danced in circles, their ribbon tails swirling as their bodies got caught in a miniature cyclone formed by a draft and captured in a corner. Silver accents caught bits of light and threw it back against the walls like swirling sunflakes. The colorful little display looked odd juxtaposed against the stark gray concrete walls and floors, just like a day to celebrate Christmas seemed odd tucked into a month of days preparing for war.
Sebastian had no reason to celebrate, so when people started to trickle into the canteen for the turkey dinner that had been planned, he slipped outside and began to walk. He shifted his form as he went, younger and younger until he appeared no older than a teen. His small horn then fit under the oddly slanted brim of a baseball cap. His tail he kept wrapped around his torso under his bulky winter coat.
In the distance he heard the bells of the city's churches begin to chime.
I heard the bells on Christmas Day, Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet the words repeat of peace on earth, good will to all.
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Waiting.
The bells marked the hours, marching onward and onward. Twenty four hours in a day. Twenty five days. Six hundred hours.
Time, time, time, the bells seemed to sing.
The tintinnabulation that so musically welled up throughout the city brought no joy to Sebastian's ears. Yes, it was another hour closer to her rescue, but it was also another hour that she had to somehow manage to survive in the concentration camps. He was racing against time. If the hours before the rescue were too many, his wife could run out of time before he got there.
Time, time, time, time, time.
Five more nights. Five more days.
Till ringing, singing on its way The world revolved from night to day, A voice, a chime, a chant sublime Of peace on earth, good will to all.
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Listening.
The optimistic harmony of the city's bells seemed to foretell a world of happiness for those that listened, like wedding bells that promised a long and happy life for those who were joined beneath their mellow chords.
The bells lied.
The molten golden notes were a false prophet intent on lulling their listeners into a sense of blissful lethargy. But there was no happiness waiting around the corner for any in this city. Even now, beneath the rhyming and the chiming of the bells Sebastian could hear the beginnings of the battle to be.
A crack of a gun. A roar of rage.
Then from each black, accursed mouth The cannons thundered in the South, And with the sound, the carols drowned Of peace on earth, good will to all.
--
Hastening.
A real gunshot! A real roar! At the other end of the street, around the steps of the church, a crowd of torpidly curious onlookers was gathering. Sebastian rushed to join the throng, to observe from the sidelines what was happening.
Much too horrified to speak, the woman at the top of the steps cried out wordlessly as she backed all the way up to the ornately carved wooden doors.
“Not another step! That first shot was only a warning.” A crazed man shouting in Romanian marched up to her, pointed his gun right at the bundle tied to her chest. “Now you either wait for us to call the dog catchers to take you and that mongrel child to the pound, bitch, or I'll put you both down right here.”
“This is a-a s-sanctuary,” the woman's stammer was barely audible to the crowd at the bottom of the steps beneath the clamor and the clangor or the bells. Sebastian tried to shove his way through, to get in position to do something useful, but to no avail.
The woman clutched her precious cargo tightly to her chest with one hand, the other found the handle of the door behind her. Twisted.
It was locked.
The bells tolled the twelfth hour.
The echo of the gunshot grated on the silence after the clashing and the jangling of the bells.
It was as if an earthquake rent The hearth-stones of a continent, And made forlorn, the households born Of peace on earth, good will to all.
--
Despairing.
“I told you not to move!” The melancholy menace of his tone scared no one. “Damn it, now you've made me put a bullet hole into a two hundred year old oak door. Damn bitch.”
The woman did not respond.
The man with the gun kicked at her with his toe, then turned and left without another word, his human heart a stone. The crowd dispersed. Nothing left to see.
It was all over so quickly and there had been nothing Sebastian could do about it.
And in despair I bowed my head “There is no peace on earth,” I said, “For hate is strong and mocks the song Of peace on earth, good will to all.”
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Mar 13, 2010 1:33:21 GMT -6
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