A view from the sky tram in Jasper on a family holiday
Some years ago I was privileged to teach a small group of friends a mini-class on writing. One of these was Trudi Gray, who had come from England and had become a close friend of mine. She wrote these two stories at the time and I always felt others might enjoy the opportunity to read them.
A Christmas Visitor by Trudi Gray I grew up in a small English village. When I was about ten years old, there was a rash of petty crimes. Stones were thrown through windows attached to a note signed ‘The Phantom Avenger’. Nearby was a mental institution from which occasionally escaped, an inmate. He always wore white sandshoes and became known as ‘Sandshoe Joe’, stalking lone walkers and frightening people. It was Christmas Eve. My mother was sitting sewing doll clothes for my younger sister who was asleep in bed. I, being the eldest, was permitted to stay up and was reading, ‘A Christmas Carol’. The chains of Marley’s ghost rattled vividly in my imagination. A loud knocking on the back door broke the silence in our home. Mother looked at me expecting me to answer it. I didn’t want to because the mental rattling of Marley’s chains had filled me with fear. Reluctantly, I left the comfort of the well-lit living room and opened the door a little, slamming it shut, shouting, “Mother! Mother! There’s a man at the door with a gun. Stand back,” I said, “he will fire through the door. It must be ‘The Phantom Avenger’ or ‘Sandshoe Joe’.” “I don’t know why he bothered to knock. The door isn’t locked,” commented Mother. Another knock sounded, accompanied by “A Merry Christmas.” The voice was my grandfather’s. Opening the door, Grandfather had a goose under his arm and was holding the legs as one would hold a gun. Being slightly inebriated, he had swayed toward me in the darkness, when I first opened the door. He had won the goose in a raffle at his club and had come to present it to us. Mom said that when we went back into the living room my face was green. I never did finish reading that book. A “White” Christmas by Trudi Gray The next day Grandfather’s goose lay on the bench with its fine array of white feathers, posing a problem of how to remove them. “There’s a sturdy hook in the living room ceiling. We will tie the legs together and hang them over the hook,” directed Mom. She put a large zinc bath under the goose. We gathered as a family and vigorously started plucking, putting the feathers in the bath. We were almost finished, pleased with our efforts. My youngest brother picked up his cat and threw it into the bathful of feathers. The living room looked as though a vicious snowstorm had passed through. It took hours for the whole family to collect the feathers and make the living room presentable again for Christmas. *************************** May God's choicest blessing be upon all of you at this time and in the coming year. I want to take this time to express my love for my Heavenly Father who loves all His children, including even me, and for our Savior and Redeemer, Jesus Christ and for the Holy Ghost who is our Comfortor and witness of all truth. I feel so blessed. I am grateful for my family and friends. You are an added strength and support to me in my journey through this life. Thank you all.
3 Comments
Terri
12/21/2016 06:32:24 pm
I can just hear Trudi's telling the stories in her rich British accent. :)
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JDT
12/22/2016 09:48:27 am
Fantastic stories. Merry Christmas
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Margery
1/5/2017 06:16:01 am
Thanks both of you.
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