What Came Down the Chimney this Christmas

Wolves

A few minutes passed, and the boys remained at the cold table waiting for Gran to return. Suddenly, they heard low growls coming from outside the cabin. William's mind initially thought to the formidable howling that had come from the fire the evening before, but he soon realized this was not the same sound. Jack barked into the night, and this sound made both of the boys jump with fright. The growling outside grew louder, and then there was a sudden yelp of pain. The quiet stillness of the night returned, and the boys listened once again to the outside world.

Both of the boys feared the worst, Gran never had cared for their pet. Although Jack had done nothing wrong, neither of them believed Gran's head was clear, and right now they weren't sure what she might do to the dog. William was more concerned than John. William and Jack had bonded in a way which John never had with the dog; however, both of the boys cared dearly for their pet.

Gran walked through the open door, and shivered from the cold. In her right hand she held a freshly bloodied knife. Dark fur stuck to the knife, the same way that the chicken's feather sometimes had stuck to the boys hands if they were wet or muddy. Gran walked over to the table and sat the knife down. Blood dripped from both of her hands, and the black fur stuck to her palms in the same manner it had the knife. A tear ran down from William's eye as he looked at Gran, petrified and unable to speak.

"I realized I never finished my story from last night boys. How rude of me," Gran apologized, and sat down at the table. She looked at her hands with discontent, and then leaned over and wiped them clean on William's pant leg. William was too scared to resist Gran using his clothing as a cleaning rag.

"My brother was the first to get eaten by the wolves. I watched from the window as they overtook him. He tried to resist, his arms flailing wildly until one of the wolves tore open his throat, ending him," Gran drummed her fingers on the wooden table as she spoke.

"It was a horrible sound to hear, truly I wish I hadn't heard it. I can still hear it in my dreams sometimes. He called out to my father, and me. Although I'm not sure how he expected a little girl to help him," Gran broke off from her narration and looked at the vacant chimney. She stood up from the table. Both John and William tensed up, fearing she was coming for them. They relaxed a little as Gran walked past the table, over to the chimney. She began constructing a fire, adding bits of kindling and some of the sticks which were left out from the night before.

"My father didn't even try to save him. He watched from the window, same as me. My brother was long dead by the time my father walked outside. The wolves were still feeding, and he left me, leaving the door wide open," Gran glanced over to the wooden door as it swung violently from the winter breeze.

"I ran to the door, and called out to him. I asked him if I should close the door. My father turned and looked at me with total calm. He spoke to me exactly as I am speaking to you two now. I've spent years pondering the meaning behind the words he said to me. But tonight, I finally think I understand what he meant."

"What did he say to you?" William asked, wiping at the blood on his pant leg.

"He told me it didn't matter if the door was open or not. He said the wolves were already inside," as Gran finished her story she looked into the fire she had created. Flames seldom served as mirrors, but this Christmas Eve they did. With cracked lips and broken yellow teeth, Gran looked into the flames and saw herself, and she smiled.