Saturday, December 20, 2008

It was late.

This weeks prompt on Sunday Scribblings is Late
It was very late. John, the landlord of the Star Inn had bid farewell to last of his customers as they stepped outside into the deep snow that lay like a blanket of sparkling white on the lane and the surrounding fields.

It occurred to John that it was lighter than usual that night. The moon was high in the sky, but the light that night was brighter than moonlight. It was whiter, and it threw the hedges and trees into sharp contrast against silver cloud- streaked sky.

He looked up, and directly above the pub was a star, the biggest brightest star he’d ever seen.
He pulled the heavy oak door, and it shut with the reassuring clunk which told him that his day of toil had finished.

Just a final bit of clearing up. He settled the glowing remains of the log fire, then flicked the switch which plunged the ancient building into darkness, except for a beam of light which had found a crack in the closed curtains covering the bay window.

John turned and started to climb the winding stairs, but as he reached the third step there was a loud banging on the locked door.

John sighed a heavy sigh. Perhaps someone had left their keys behind or maybe their gloves or hat. He reluctantly returned to the bar, and muttering something under his breath turned on a light and started towards the door.

Another loud, almost frantic bang. “I’m coming” called John “I’m coming”

The door creaked as it opened almost as if to say ‘I’ve seen my last person through tonight’. Standing knee deep in the freshly fallen snow was a young man with a terrified expression on his pale face.

“My wife’s having a child” he said “the ambulance couldn’t reach our cottage so I was trying to get her to the hospital myself, but our car is stuck in a drift just over there”

He pointed she shape of a car, its lights a dull yellow and caked in slush.

“Can we come in – do you have a room we can use? Will you help us? Please? Please?”

“We have no rooms to spare – this is just a tiny pub, there is just my own accommodation“

John felt the fear in the man’s face, and knew something had to be done.

“Let me help you bring her in” he said” You can use the small bar over there”

John was not experienced in the ways of childbirth and decided he would have to enlist the help of Ruth who lived a couple of doors up the lane. Ruth the retired nurse who by now would be settling down for the night. He needn’t have worried. She seemed only too pleased to have been asked. After all, this kind of thing added a bit of excitement to the somewhat dull routine she endured day after day.

The baby was born. A boy. And somehow news of the birth spread through the village. One by one the villagers came to the door to see the new child. Some brought small gifts – a little gold bracelet, scented candles and a bunch of sweet smelling flowers.

All that was several years ago. The village still looks the same, and the people who live there are mostly the same. But something is different. Nothing you can put your finger on, but it feels like a special place. A place where something special happened.

The rest, as they say, is history!


  1. A lovely snowy Christmas story, retold to bring a basic truth -- that of people reaching out to help people, regardless of faith. Sarah McLachlan's music added to the beautiful descriptions as well.

  2. A moving retelling of the Christmas story - always both old and new. I love your Christmasy blog decorations with lighted trees and drifting snow (how do you DO that?).

  3. now if they told it this way in bible school, I know I would have been able to stay awake!
    beautifully told Mr. Keith!
    merry Christmas to u!

  4. Beautiful story...made more meaningful by your telling.

    The blog is beautiful.


  5. mmmm, me thinks i've heard this storyline before. this version is nice too!!!!!

  6. The modern version. Lovely.....oh how I wish it were true... but would we accept the new born today as things were 2008 years ago. Probably not.

  7. A very nice revamped version of an age old story. I liked it, as I do your new digs.

  8. Nice one Keith, I was waiting for the three wise men to arrive or should it have been George in a taxi, Paul in a car, John on a scooter pipping his hooter following Ringo Starr!

  9. Yes, indeed - a special story - special!

  10. lovely description and there's an air of wintry holiday familiarity to this. Enjoyed reading here on my first time to your blog village.

  11. ahh very beautifully told.

  12. The picture is lovely, and so is your story.



Dear WORDPRESS friends. If you are having difficulty posting please 'Comment as' either:-

a) Name/URL
b) Anonymous with your name included in your comment.

Thank you!