Bach’s Last Cello

by Paula Gail Benson

sheetmusic-world.com

 

The venerable cello lounged in its case awaiting the performance. Across the room, the centuries younger violins chirped.

“I heard . . .” one began.

“Who knows if Bach played cello . . .” the other interrupted.

The cello knew but wasn’t talking.

A sultry viola twanged. “He certainly could compose.”

In a sound low as the gentlest brush across the strings, the cello’s bow whispered, “Tell them.”

“No.” They either wouldn’t understand or be envious. The cello had sealed Bach’s musical touch inside its frame so whoever bowed, only Bach played. His last cello. Even on “Jingle Bell Rock.”

 

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 This 100-word story is offered as an entry for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightning Fall. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity! 

 

Bar Story

 

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Bar Story

by Paula Gail Benson

An elf, a reindeer, and a snowman walk into a bar. Really. They find places at the crowded counter, and each orders an Arctic beer. The elf downs his in a gulp—for courage to face more toy-making. The reindeer slurps his and orders another mugful, checking the reddening of his nose in a mirror. The snowman futilely clinks his glass against his line of black coal teeth, hating that he can never taste the beverage. With a sigh, he looks at the puddle developing beneath him—wishing someday that he might leave behind something other than a watery trail.

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This 100-word story is offered as an entry for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightning Fall. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity! 

Continuing The Babas Dilemma: Parts Two through Four of a Four Part Tale

Tato’s Mama’s Story: The Adopted Snow Child (Part Two of a Four Part Tale)

NJSV Snow Maiden Doll

by Paula Gail Benson

          Tato’s mama looked sternly at the assembled grandchildren. They fidgeted and giggled. “No respect,” she muttered.

          “Listen,” I instructed my cousins. “So you can judge.”

          They quieted. She began:

“At midnight on Christmas Eve, a childless couple fashioned a snow baby. The next morning, the baby came to life, a beautiful girl they named, Snegurochka.”

          “Like Pinocchio?”

          Tato’s mama ignored the question.

          “Snegurochka played with the other girls. They went into the woods and made a great fire. The others jumped over it. But, when Snegurochka tried, she melted away.”

          Everyone was silent. Then, the youngest granddaughter began to cry.

 

Mama’s Mama’s Story: The Icy Immortal (Part Three of a Four Part Tale)

Ded Moroz

 by Paula Gail Benson

          “Coddled,” Tato’s mama huffed.

          Mama’s mama tsk-tsked. “They are caring. My turn.”

          Silently, the grandchildren listened.

          “Traditionally, Snegurochka accompanies Ded Moroz to distribute Christmas presents.”

          “Ah, Grandfather Frost,” said one child.

          “Father Christmas,” another insisted

          Mama’s mama raised her hand for quiet. “Snegurochka was created from snow by Ded Moroz and Spring, both immortals. When Snegurochka sought to befriend a mortal shepherd boy, Spring allowed her to feel love. But the warmth in Snegurochka’s heart caused her to melt.”

          “Like Frosty?” asked one child.

          “Why are both versions so sad?” another wondered.

          The Babas shook their scarfed heads in unison.

  

Iryna’s Question (Part Four of a Four Part Tale)

Father Frost and Snow Maiden Ornament

 

by Paula Gail Benson

           Neither Baba’s story won the contest. They walked away, huddled together, despairing no respect for tradition and blaming American child-rearing.

          Later, in her room, I found Iryna, my youngest sister, comparing two books. One told the immortal Snegurochka’s story. The other was The Wizard of Oz.

Hallmark Keepsake Ornament

          I sat beside her. “What are you thinking?”

          “The Tin Man and Snegurochka were hurt by receiving hearts. If they remained heartless, couldn’t they love each other?”

          Hopeful little matchmaker, I thought. Smiling, I placed my arm across her shoulders. “Only with pain does one know love is real.”

          With a sigh, Iryna nodded.

 

Snow Maiden
Glass Ornament

 ***

These three 100-word stories are offered as entries for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightning Fall. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity!  

Traditions

by Paula Gail Benson

Aoutrow 24-Day Advent Calendar
featured on Amazon

Mom always prepared the wooden Advent calendar, placing unique treats in each drawer.

In the spring, celebrating twenty-five married years, Pop gave Mom a new engagement ring. She removed the original and told me. “Joe, this is for your bride.”

I said, “Keep it for me.”

We lost Mom unexpectedly. Auto accident. With Sheila beside me, I watched Mom’s remains guided into the mausoleum vault.

The holidays approached. Important little things went undone. Regretfully, I lifted the empty Advent calendar, not having the heart to fill it until I heard something rattle in drawer 24. Mom’s engagement ring for Sheila.

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This 100 word story is offered as an entry for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightning Fall. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity! 

The Yule Cat's Fury

 by Paula Gail Benson

As Skeggr placed the candle stub on his grandmother’s tombstone, its melting wax burned his fingers.

“I’m alone without you, Amma,” he said. “I’ll receive no Christmas gift of clothing to save me from the Yule Cat’s fury.”

He heard a low growl from the shadows.

“The thirteen Yule Lads played no tricks on me. Window Watcher saw I had nothing worth stealing.”

A light flickered nearby, illuminating Candle Snatcher, who handed Skeggr a ribbon with attached bell.

Gratefully, Skeggr donned his new apparel before leaving.

Seizing the smoldering stub, Candle Snatcher whispered, “Yule Kitty, follow your collar bell’s ring.”

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This 100 word story is offered as an entry for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightning Fall. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity! 

Tribute

by Paula Gail Benson

The small, unadorned tombstone sat wedged at the corner of the cemetery's cinder block fencing. Larger monuments in the family plot had lengthy chiseled homages and floral wreaths.

Before leaving the desolated spot, a visitor wondered, could not some recognition be made at Christmas, even for a murderer?

At midnight, the young woman’s wispy figure appeared holding a small bouquet. “Even as a ghost, I feel the wind whipping through the broken bones that never healed,” she whispered.

Beneath her spectral feet, warmth radiated, as if her condemned protector opened a small door from hell to offer her Christmas comfort.

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This 100 word story is offered as an entry for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightning Fall. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity!

 

Ever Here

The flood washed everything away, including me. At the kids’ urging, Con stayed. So, among the tangled roots that emerged from the drained lake bed, my spirit lingered. First, Con rebuilt the dock, certain of the water’s return. The construction lulled me to sleep beneath green foliage blanketing the bank. Then, I awakened among brown leaves, hearing metal clanking above. I peered around the planks and saw a lighted framework tree. We’d had one each Christmas, now for thirty-seven years. Eyes glistening as he viewed it, Con said softly, “Not evergreen, but ever here.” I stretched, yawned, and nestled deeper.

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This 100 word story is offered as an entry for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightning Fall. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity!

Photo from Walmart Online Catalog

Beneath the Decoration

On the mantle, the shimmering stag perched, a desperate silver spray-painted statuary, a fake gray fur secured with a lopsided satin bow looped around his neck. His glittering eyes beseeched. The jolly fat man’s nose twitched. “An indignity, even for a replica reindeer. Won’t you join my sleigh tonight?” The twinkle in Santa’s eyes loosened the beast’s frozen shoulders. Dipping his mighty head, he shook off the fur loop and pitched it from his antlers. He reared and jumped into the open sack, hearing “Ho, ho, ho” as the drawstring closed above him. Up the chimney, they escaped décor purgatory.

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This 100 word story is offered as an entry for the annual Advent Ghosts event hosted by Loren Eaton at I Saw Lightning Fall. See the other entries there. Thanks, Loren, for the opportunity!