A Christmas Fable For the Young at Heart ( Pt 1 )

My story begins one Christmas Eve, in a tiny comfortable, old stone cottage, where lived grandmother Vitachka.

This was her favourite time of the year, all her happy childhood memories would come flooding back, also those of her children,
and now she could share the festive season with her grandchildren too.

Outside the cottage and all around the great forests and countryside,
raged a forbidding icy wind, it blew a gale that whistled against the front door and window panes, trying hard to penetrate through cracks
or crevices, but not succeeding, though outside the wooden shutters on
the shed, could be heard rattling in the wind.

Inside the cottage, there was a spell binding warmth. The smell of pine and orange incense drifted across the ceiling's wooden beams, of which were festooned with holly and mistletoe, red ribbons were tied in bows, they hung colourfully from the rafters, matching the holly berries bright.

Atop the timber mantle, more holly had been placed, some candles flickered lighting up a framed picture, of some children playing in the snow.

Six woolly red and green socks that Vitachka had knitted, hung on hooks, she would fill them with nuts, fruit and gifts, once the children
were asleep.

A roaring fire blazed, as twigs crackled and visions danced in the radiance of the flames, that lit up the cottage.

In a corner by the fire, stood a tall Christmas tree, from the branches hung gingerbread men, with currants for eyes and nose, with a bit of
glazed cherry for a mouth. Strings of red liquorice hung from branches, as well as spiral barley sugar sticks, that were sticky and sweet. At the very top of the tree, was a star made out of plaited twigs.
Each child had made a decoration to hang on the tree, all believing theirs was the best, till grandmother Vitachka agreed they were all good.

By the fire she sat in her old rocking chair, her face wizened, for she had seen many a Christmas come and go. Her plump body rocked to and fro, she smiled over the top of her glasses at the children sitting cross-legged on the floor, their faces had a rosy glow as they drank their mugs of hot chocolate, all excited to hear grandmother Vitachka's
tale. Once she had their full attention and there was silence, she then began her story.

To be continued........