I Am An Angel

Here is story number two for my creative writing class.  I am yet to read my story out in class and have it critiqued by everyone.  I am off there this afternoon and I am sure I won't escape this time!  For this exercise we had to use an object as the stimulus for the story and allow the object to 'talk to us'.  My object is pictured below; unfortunately it wasn't saying much!

I Am An Angel

For many years, each December, I have been carefully taken out of my box and hung up near the very top of a richly decorated Christmas tree, surrounded by twinkling lights and baubles of red, gold and green.  I can still smell the fresh scent of the thick and bushy pine needles that surrounded me and feel the comfort that they brought me.  

From my secure perch, way up high, I could see the fire that always burnt brightly in the hearth, with amber, orange and bright yellow flames a-glow.  I could watch safely over the children as they excitedly hung up their brightly coloured knitted stockings in a row, in anticipation of St. Nicholas and the gifts that he would bring.  The thick curtains would be shut, snug and tight, against the cold winter’s night and the children’s mother would play Christmas tunes on the little piano, and I would silently sing with joy, as the children sat in front of the fire and sang happily along until it was time for their little feet to take them off for a fitful night's sleep.

As the rest of the house crept to bed, I would be left alone with the lights, the tree and the gently glowing fire.  Orange and clove oil would fill the air from the pomanders that sat in a bowl in the centre of the room.  The house would be warm and quiet as we all waited for the soft pad of black boots on the hearth and the ‘ho, ho, ho’ of old St. Nick.

But sadly, that was long ago and the children are now all grown up.  The magic has been shut away for years and I too have been shut away in my box.  Christmas hasn’t come for me for many a year and I lie still and remember how it used to be.  I am an angel, and I am waiting for the gentle patter of little feet for the magic to be opened up once more.