Posted in simple obsession

Untold storie of Christmas 

That time is nearly upon us and the stories will be told , of how a jolly fat man will travel true and bold . This is an adventure or is it true to see , of how one man can sail the earth for you and me . The tale starts with one boy and a dream that will be , a shooting star will bless him for all eternity . 
The date is unknown the time is neither here or there , the scene is set in one house where the day is crisp and blue . One loving mother sat down in her house with nothing to do , the fire is cooking the rabbit and the veg is in the pot . The smell of dirt and cinders fills the room with rot , she sits on a blanket and cradled her stomach as she cooks . In the room there not much in it just a fireplace and a bed , a table made of a log pile and a little wooden chest . Over in the corner there is a pile of little sticks , the making of a basket or a cradle made to fit . The half worked baby bed lays there not complete , as the mother spends her daytime hunting for her eats . The days are filled with house chores or relaxing as she may , for the one who would become her saviour and would be born for that day . Each day would be forgotten and the basket was complete , but filling her time from hunting she would scavenge in the woods . Gathering herbs and mushrooms and wild fruit as she walked , her due date was come as she waddled to gather food to hold . 

The seasons set for changing , the chill it filled the air . A crisp frost it thickens and is laying everywhere , each day was getting colder and the woods would be becoming still . That day that she was hoping was just over the hill . She laid in her bed to rest up , as uncomfortable as it would seem , for a few hours of sleeping or some rest so it seemed . A few hours had shot passed and the time would fade away , when light would creep in side the hour to stir he to the day . She sat up and looked at the fire the embers burning red , the flames where dancing in the wind and warm up her bed . The sun was slowly rising and as she stood to walk to the door , but as she took her first step her waters hit the floor . She turn and held the head rest and the contractions came in fast , the baby wanted her loving arms as she pushed the baby passed . Each time the contraction would cripple , but with the love that’s in her heart . The loving warmth it was feeling as she cradled it in her arms , she gazed at it and smiled . A little boy she had , the sweetest little crackle as she wiped her tears down of his head . The baby clean and feed now and she cleaned up all the mess , her little boy was crying in the cradle , his own nest . 

Each day was a struggle as her chores needed to be done , no name for her baby as she contemplated or more then one . A week had slowly shot past and the name was still not set , she looked at the stars and pondered as he rested on her chest and neck . As he slept he twitches and tickled and she giggled as he did , a name would come to her eyes as she call him her sweet nick . 

The days and years they crept past and the seasons they all changed , for many time she whispered I would never have it any other way . With age there came her illness and by the time that he was 10 , she was too ill to care for him and his story would just begin . The illness was slowly taking her breath there as she laid , she looked at the boy of 10 years and wiped the tears from his face away . Each breath was slowly driven and the shaking was a quake , as she softly whispered to her boy of mourning . ” your my saint , my love , my nick ” . He placed his head in her hands and then she pulled him in real tight , he could hear her heart beat quicken as her body gave up the fight . Her last breath was a soft one as her hands fell to her side , her eyes slowly glazed and her chest became still . ” mother , mother ” . A tear gently kissed his cheek and drop off his chin , one lonely tear for all the love he brings . His cheeks went from Rosie to a pale shade of red , as he sat there next to his mother laying in her bed . 

An hour it went past and the boy never moved even the neighbours came to see and sooth . Her spirit was now taken and her Vessel her was left , as the priest came to pray and place a cross there on her chest . The funeral was peaceful as the family came and went , the boy left to see in his life with an empty bed . The nights was long and lonely and the darkest times for him , as with a fire crackles and warms up the toy making begins . Each day began a new toy , the collection had begun . The day job was now calling , the wood won’t fashion it’s self . The toys don’t make the people , as he worked just like an elf . One night the sky was shining , been a year since she had gone . A shooting star was call , for he was the chosen one . A boy with imagination , true to the core . The one with sadness still warming , a willing to give out more . The boy wished and wondered , as the light was shining bright . A little kiss from heaven , as the boy grew over night . A childhood of poverty , now years of getting by . A silver beard was growing , as the world would feel his wealth . 

A few years has flown past , the boy was now a man . A women he was courting , as he worked she held his hand . They wanted to have a family , the wanted to see the world . That night once again had came round , and he still wanted to see his mum . Waking from a nightmare , as he was swollen in the tum . The snow was softly falling , and laying on the trees . The woodland creature calling , as the flakes fell on to thee . The man stood at his doorway , with his wife and food for three . No winter callers coming , as the snow laid thick and fast . The whiteness was is all over , it even covered up the glass . 

Nick’s birthday was now coming , but he never wanted gift . He want to something special , he wanted to give out his birthday wish . For a year he worked and fashioned , and made a sack of toys . His birthday was upon him , and that day had finally . For when he went calling , be never saw no one . Each door he went to visit , there was no one there inside . He left a gift and letter , for whoever may be inside . The night was long and tiresome , but he never felt like that . A world of wealth and sadness , but not for that night . The spread of joy and happiness , not wealth for all tonight . The gifts and letter would ponder , they would collect inside the mind . Who is the one that was calling , Nickolas Claus will be tonight . On this his birthday , he spreads gifts for all tonight . 

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im just starting on my writing journey still finding my ground hoping to get noticed in the writing world

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