A Winters Tale

The air was so cold that every breath was painful. It was as cold as a winter’s night could be. I walked down the twisting lane heeding every step less I should slip on the frost beneath my feet. Either side the grass on the banks stood rigid, white, frozen. Barren hedgerows glistened silver in the moonlight, and distant trees wove a border of black lace below a grey winter sky.


I trudged into the village. Six disgruntled ducks stood motionless on the frozen pond unable to reach the water beneath a surface of leaden ice. All was quiet but for the dull sound of my footsteps. Suddenly a bird flapped noisily into the air. I saw the shadow of a man, head bowed, deep in thought. It was mine.


As I turned the corner a golden glow filled the street before me. Quietly at first, then more loudly the sound of merriment and laughter filled the air. I had arrived. I pushed open the heavy oak door at once my spirits rose amid the sounds smells and warmth of the ancient inn.


“Mine's a brandy landlord, and make it a large one!”