A round, cold eye that looks sullenly down

Out of the placid sky

At the little creatures creeping and crawling by

Staring until the quiet ocean

Rises towards the sky

Shining, glistening in the crisp night air.

Dulling the sense of the earth

With an icy, silver beam

Until the shapes upon the earth

Become shadows in a dream

This story was inspired by the 1956 painting entitled "The Discovery" by Norman Rockwell.

“Mommy! What did I get for Christmas?” I asked. I couldn’t wait! Christmas was the best time of the year. I loved it. All those presents!

“Honey, I don’t want to ruin the surprise!” replied Mommy as she poured me a cup of iced milk.

“Fine, then what about Santa? What did he give me?”

“I don’t know honey! It’s not like I’m Santa.”

“Okay fine!” I pouted. I had to figure this out myself. The tension was building up inside me and I was about to snap like an out-stretched rubber band. I was plotting a plan as my fingers traced the picture of Santa’s beard on my napkin. I have a plan! When my mommy turns her back on me, I will dash up the stairs to Mommy and Daddy’s room and search for my glorious presents! I thought to myself.

I sat there watching the seconds on the shiny, silver clock – tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock. “Hey Mommy! Don’t you have anything to do besides watch me eat my lunch?”

“Why of course I do honey. How can you say that? I was going to make a phone call, but decided to wait for you!”

“Mommy, you don’t have to wait for me! I’m alweady five” I complained as I held up five fingers to prove to her how mature I already was.

“Okay then young man. I’ll make my phone call.”

“Whatever you want to do Mommy!”

My mommy gave me a you-better-watch-it look, then finally turned her back on me to make the phone call I was waiting for. I leaped out of my seat, and skated like a pro hockey player across the shiny linoleum floor to the tall, spiraling staircase. I dashed up the stairs as fast as lightning, and slammed Mommy and Daddy’s door behind me.

I scanned the room like a spy for a place to start looking. My eyes paused at the tall, towering dresser that held all kinds of secrets. It was the door to my answers; I could feel it. My dad’s pipe and my mom’s jewelry box sat on top of the dresser like a good sign.

Quickly I frantically started looking for my presents. I pulled open the third from bottom drawer and flipped it inside and out. Nothing. I searched through the second from the bottom drawer, but I was slowly starting to lose hope. Nothing.

Finally, I rummaged through the last and bottom-most drawer. Inside, I saw a string sticking out from a pile of clothes. I tugged at the suspicious-looking string harder and harder and harder. The smell of cologne wafted through the air accompanied by the faint smell of pipe smoke. The fuzzy, green carpet felt reassuring under me like it was encouraging me on. I tugged at the string one more time. SNAP! The string snapped in half, and a gazillion white, white beads exploded from the dresser drawer. It was like it was snowing!

“Ow!” A white bead landed on my head. I heard shuffling noises coming from downstairs.

“Honey! What are you doing up there?” my mommy exclaimed up the stairs.

“Nothing Mommy! Don’t worry!” I called back.

Quickly I turned back to the dresser. I scanned the contents inside of the drawer: Dad’s t-shirt, Dad’s ugly green vest, and – Ah ha! A cherry red corner of something was sticking out from underneath some clothes. I thought to myself, Yes! I finally found it! I yanked at the red corner. I kept on pulling and pulling. More and more of it kept on coming out. Suddenly, out popped a white wig, and, finally, the whole red thing came tumbling out. It looked like a red bag. Then I took a closer look. It wasn’t a white wig. It was a white beard! And it wasn’t a big red bag. It was a pair of red pants, a red jacket and a red hat. But not any beard, hat, pants, and jacket. It was Santa’s!!!

I was so, so, so, so shocked! I felt like someone just slapped me across the face, like in those funny cartoons! Except this wasn’t funny. This was absolutely amazing! I realized with a shock, MY DAD IS SANTA!

The summer air.

Nothing hangs but

hundreds of huddled fireflies.

They group and break,

group and break,

splitting and spreading their light.

They glide through the clear air and gleam.

Shine down strips of light

to guide those whose eyes

were taken when the moon fell.

The fireflies brighten the world,

the power of their light so pure

and through the still summer air

they glow and

guide a thousand eyes.

It was just me and my dad, Horace Vanwick sitting alone in the old, musty library in our mansion. Old books were stacked up on empty desks, and lined up on shelves. He was lying down on the window seat covered in a ripped, gray blanket. The moon shone through the window, shining down on his pale face. Mice scattering through the walls and rain splattering on the roof were the only sounds we could hear that night. The room was so full of dust that I could see it, hanging in the air everywhere. I could almost taste it. . . I stared into my dad’s eyes that were filled with pain. Memories flew through my mind, of me and my dad together in my childhood. I managed to create a small smile.

“Mary, your brothers think I have lost all my money. But that is not true. There is one thing I have kept since you were young. You will find the location in the letter, please promise me you will not tell anyone. No one Mary…”

“Dad!” I shrieked, running my fingers through my long brown hair as tears spilled down from my stinging blue eyes. Fingers shaking, I pulled the old blanket over his face, and, head hanging, hurried out the room. After I had yanked open the giant wooden door, I was surprised to see my older brother Nathan standing by the door. He forced a shocked smile and I knew he had been eavesdropping. I breezed past him and down the hallway to my old bedroom as a kid where there I lay, sinking into my deep thoughts. Tick, tick, went the clock as its hands struck midnight.

Scene 2

Place: Funeral

Time: 10:36 p.m.

A week later, at the funeral, I stared into the glum crowds. Most people I didn’t even recognize. It was probably because of the fog which was seeming to cover the people in a thick blanket of mist. The funeral was being held at a huge garden with black folding chairs set up in rows. My dad’s coffin was covered in a bright red cloth, but was painted a shiny black. I shivered because the sun was hidden behind a thick cloud. Moisture hung in the air, and it was cool outside. I was sitting in my black dress and sweater all alone when Jeb, my little brother’ walked over and placed a hand on my back. I managed to turn and look up at him. At that moment Nathan walked up in his tuxedo reminding me of dad – high cheekbones, tall, skinny, pale and dark black slicked back hair.

“Hey Nathan,” Jeb said greeting him. Nathan just nodded, his usual self, quiet and serious.

“Listen guys, I was just talking to the sheriff. He says we cannot visit the mansion anymore and must stay at our own houses because it is on the verge of falling down.” He snickered.

“Why? We were just there a couple nights ago. Everything seemed perfectly safe,” I said matter-of-factly.

“Well, I am just warning you to stay away from the mansion. Under the sheriff’s rules.” Then he walked away leaving me and Jeb alone in the fog.

When my brothers and I were saying our farewells, I noticed something weird. The local sheriff had not attended the funeral. I weaved my way through the chairs and past the coffin. I explained this to Jeb.

“Why would Nathan do such a thing? It’s not like he needs the mansion to himself,” Jeb chuckled. I just sighed and didn’t even bother to explain about the night of my father’s death when he had told me about something left just for me.

I was heading back to my black Prius when I saw Nathan still standing next to the gray metal fence. His chocolate brown eyes were flashing, darting from side to side. I softly opened my door and crawled inside my small, neat car. A fresh smell filled my lungs. I reached for my thick, gray seat-belt, eyes focused on Nathan. I pulled out of the parking lot and saw him sprinting to his car. He hopped in, and roared away toward the exact opposite direction of the mansion. What is he doing? I asked myself. But his car was gone, headed up the road and all I could see was exhaust slowly joining the mist in a wall of fog.

Scene 3

Place: Nathan’s House

Time: 8:49 p.m.

It was a week after dad’s funeral. Jeb and I sat at the apartment table at Nathan’s House. Jeb had decided we should give Nathan a surprise birthday for him. When I had checked Nathan’s calendar it was blank for tonight. The funny thing was, Nathan was not home. It was cold in Nathan’s apartment so I wrapped my sweater even tighter around my goose-bump covered arms. I looked over my shoulder and lifted up the greasy cardboard top to the pizza box. The pizza looked cold so I hopped off the chair and timidly shoved the pizza box into the hot, roaring oven. The smell filled the air, and it warmed the cool night air that was drifting into the room from the open windows. The birthday cake was slowly melting, white frosting slid down the sides and onto the chocolate brown table. Jeb and a couple of family friends didn’t care because they were having too much fun watching a basketball game on Nathan’s T.V.

“Yes! Go go go go go! YES!” They yelled from the other room.

“Jeb, I’m going to try Nathan on his cell phone,” I said, trying to make myself heard over the cheering and clapping.

“Oh, alright good idea,” he responded, but his resplendent eyes were glued to the screen and it was obvious he didn’t care. I swear, something is wrong with my brothers, I thought to myself. I sighed and picked up the house phone to dial Nathan’s cell phone number. The second I had clicked SEND I could hear a faint ring coming from Nathan’s bedroom.

I hung up my phone and walked down the short hallway, but then tripped and fell on a shiny clean bike. Ouch! I carefully and quietly lifted up the bike to place it back in its spot. I stood up and looked down at my knee which was now bleeding and blood was creating a small path down my leg. I limped into Nathan’s room and saw an open window, breeze flying in. Clothes were thrown across the floor and papers flew around the navy-colored room. Neon notes hung from his calendar like climbers clinging to a steep cliff. I shivered and lunged for a corrugated piece of paper that was about to fly out the open window into the active, city streets of Greensboro, North Carolina. I spread it out, and began to read the letter. It said:

Dear Mary,

Congratulations my dear! You have found the letter. You probably miss me now, and right now I can picture your expression when reading this. Oh, you look so much like your mother. How I wish to be dancing at another Christmas ball together, laughing as I trip over every single step. She always wore the most elegant dresses. Now they are probably all stored away somewhere up in the attic.

Please take care of your brothers as you all move on with your lives. I am so proud of everything you have done for our family without a mother to be there with you as you guys grow up. Never lie, always be honest as you have always been. Kare for your family. Got to be yourself! On and on you smile. Wherever you go, I will be with you. Nathan and Jeb will always be there for you too.

Sincerely your Dad,

Horace Vanwick

I copied the letter down on a spare piece of paper and tucked it in my pocket as I heard the door open. I ran down the hall and Nathan walks in looking shocked.

“Happy Birthday!” we all hollered. I had more mumbled it because I was just as shocked as Nathan. He smiled, this time for real, and I could see a huge cut on his cheek. His clothes were splattered with mud and his boots were covered in it.

“Well! Thank you um, hold on, let me change and I’ll be right there,” he said.

“Hey where were you Nathan?” Jeb asked.

“Oh um, well I was biking. Yes, biking,” answered Nathan before he ran down the hall and into his room. I glanced down at my cut.

Scene 4

Place: Mansion Trip

Time: 8:33 p.m.

It was the very next night when Jeb and I had our first trip to the mansion. It looked scary with the moon shining down on the broken four-paned windows that covered the house. It was a clear night, and luckily and Jeb and I were in my small black Prius. I was explaining how I had decoded the letter. Jeb listened intensely, blue eyes squinting straight ahead.

“I found the letter in Nathan’s room and quickly copied it down. Dad’s sentences sounded choppy so I tried almost all the codes I could think of. I even wondered if it was a riddle. The sentences, as you know, were random and the word ‘Care’ was spelled with a K. I looked at the spelling of each word that starts a sentence. That’s when I solved it. The first letter of each word spelled out PINK GOWN. He also talked about mom’s beautiful dresses up in the attic, stored away. The necklace must be somewhere around mom’s favorite pink gown,” I explained.

“Alright, so we should search in the attic first, I assume,” he affirmed.

“Right.” I answered.

We parked my car right in front of the house and slowly worked our way up the old wooden steps. The hanging porch swing was swinging to the breeze on the rusted porch. I reach a hand for the silver knob and slowly push open the door and it swung inward. The chandelier delicately hung from the ceiling, about to fall. I shivered at the thought and flipped the light switch and noticed the paint was peeling. The paint was peeling everywhere actually. We headed up a couple flights of stairs, squeaking as if they were yelping with each step we took. We brushed cobwebs out of our eyes and mouths and headed towards the back of the attic. We could make out a shape near the back of the attic.

“Hey, is that it?” Jeb whispered into my ear.

“Yeah, lets go,” I breathed.

We cautiously stepped through the junk that my dad had refused to throw out and reached the shape.

“It’s a rack!” I whispered excitedly.

“Here, there are dresses! Look for a pink gown,” he responded.

“Is this it?” I asked pulling a gown covered in lace and silk off the rack. Its jewels sparkled and shimmered in the moonlight that was glowing through the window. Jeb turned on his flashlight and we could see the pale pink better now. We looked through and around the dress until I stepped on a piece of paper. I picked it up and examined it.

“Jeb, can I see that flashlight?” I asked. When I shined the flashlight down on to the paper I could see a box lying with it’s top open on the ground. I picked that up too. I squinted at the note, and could make out the handwriting. It said, “Congratulations Mary!” I looked through the box, but nothing was there. Jeb was watching me carefully over my shoulder.

“It’s gone.”

Scene 5

Place: Nathan’s House

Time: 11:47 p.m.

I looked at Jeb before knocking on Nathan’s apartment door. He gave me a warm smile and nodded. I gave the door a couple of knocks before there were footsteps, and the door opened. Nathan was standing there in sweatpants. I could tell he had just woken up.

“Mary? What are you doing here this morning?” he asked groggily as he rubbed his eyes.

“May we come in?” Jeb asked. Nathan waved us in, then lead us to his couch. Jeb and I took a seat on the tan worn-out couch. I could see down the hallway into Nathan’s room with his bed unmade and a black outfit and running sneakers spread across the floor.

“Stayed up late last night Nathan?” I asked.

“I guess.”

“Where were you Nathan?”

His tired face suddenly turned serious and he slowly created a frown as his eyes narrowed, staring straight at us. “Bike riding.”

“Again? And why so late? It must’ve been dark out, how could you see? Last time, while you were ‘bike riding’ why was your bike clean and neat in the hallway?” I asked

“Hand over the necklace Nathan,” Jeb said standing up, and straightening his back. It seemed as if he had grown 6 inches taller. Although Nathan was older than both of us, Jeb was the tallest and the strongest. Nathan’s face turned bright red and I could feel the tension rising.

“Why did you steal it Nathan? And then lie about it? What is with you? Our dad just died, Nathan,” Jeb exclaimed.

“Jeb. . .” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder but Nathan stood up and charged at Jeb. Jeb looked surprised, but was quick and jumped to the side, making Nathan stumble over himself but turned right back around and grabbed onto Jeb, trying to hit him hard in the face. Jeb grabbed him by his shoulder and pushed him. Nathan fell into a desk and then lay on the ground, not moving.

“Nathan!” I yelled and ran toward him, flipping him over.

“Mary, leave him alone, he’ll be alright,” Jeb told me.

“Here.” Nathan swiped a beautiful emerald necklace off the desk, and placed it in my hand, leaving me holding the jewel, standing and staring into space, taking in the story of the Emerald Necklace. The hands on Nathan’s clock struck midnight.

Seasons left behind
by the ever-revolving Earth
Tilted, crooked on it’s axis,
the Pole
stuck through the Earth
pointing to Santa’s Workshop and a desert
of snow and ice.
Summer up North,
Winter down South.

And when the Earth rushes to turn itself like
a toy wound up
or a clock newly repaired,
seasons switch, summer  left breathless
like a young girl racing after the school bus
in the morning.
Winter is sleeping, and waking up,
he finds that he’s up North,
and lazily lets the sun rise up
late as usual.

You thought the winter would last forever
so much snow smiling
at you
each as different as the people you’ve met;
yet you can’t tell at first glance.
Snowmen pout as they are smoothed out
and shrink smaller
smaller
and smaller still
until their surface is smooth;
and, satisfied, a child grins, though
chided at for being sopping wet and cold.

Spring scowls and scolds
Winter for his laziness
and begins to bring the Sun up earlier,
muttering about the Winter dragging the
Sun into his antics,
and hastily goes to wake all of Nature;
and flowers bloom, full to the brims of their
petals with happiness at being able to see
the sun
once more.

Summer leaps at you,
her bright eyes
shining as much as her
smiles and cheery attitude,
not even skipping a beat to the fast melody of
Sun’s drumbeat of heat beating down
at the Earth.
Puffing out occasionally,
letting a few streams of
breezy wind float past
us.

Fall and
or Autumn,
twins in time, warm at first,
then chilling to the bone
but not yet snowing white
instead, cherry oranges,
smitten yellows, apple greens,
vivacious reds and crispy browns -
leaves of all kinds rain down in their own
precipitant dance.

You thought it would never end;

Sara woke up to the sound of the phone ringing. She picked it up. “Hello,” Sara asked sleepily.

“Hello is this the Parkland Residence?” asked a lady with a very high voice that sounded like she had swallowed a whistle on the phone.

“Yes it is. Are you calling about the cello that I’m selling?” Sara asked as she pulled a chair across the tiled floor.

“Um, why yes. I was wondering about the cost,” said the lady on the phone.

Sara panicked and her thoughts raced. Am I sure I want to sell it? I mean this is my most beloved possession that I own. But then again, I DO need the money more than the music.

One thought, however, threatened to cancel out all her other thoughts. My father gave this cello to me when I went to college as a birthday present! Can I really sell it? Oh, I am so stupid! Why did I have to put an ad in the paper?! Perhaps I should lie to the lady on the phone and say that it was already sold!

She sighed. Or maybe I should just grow up and let somebody else play my cello.

Or maybe I could let the lady borrow it. Or simply just rent it for awhile. Or perhaps I should lie to the woman and then play on the street for money.

Finally, she realized that she had to answer the woman on the phone. “Oh uh, um, the cost – Well, as I said in the newspaper, the cost is 200 dollars,” answered Sara.

“Well, then I’ll take it!” replied the lady on the phone excitedly. “When should I pick it up?”

“Uh, Thursday,” siad Sara quietly.

“Sure, then it’s settled. How about ten a.m?”

“Um, ok.”

“See you then,” the woman on the phone replied.

“Sure,” Sara answered and then hung up the phone.

Sara kicked herself and thought furiously, why do I have to be so polite to people? I could have just said, ‘”No, you can’t have it!” and then hung up. Now I just have until Thursday before the lady with the squeaky voice comes here to take my cello away.

Sara stood up and went over to the practicing room. She opened the door and walked in. She stood in the middle of the doorway peering at everything in her room. She thought about the choice she was making. She could have sold her house and lost this playing room and every room in the house, or she could sell her cello and lose her music.

Sara strolled over to where her most prized possession rested. She reached for the neck of her instrument and closed her fingers around the wood. She lifted it gently and held it in midair, suddenly remembering how proud she felt when she had her first big concert in college.

She quickly took the bow from its resting place and walked over to her chair and sat down. She tried to forget what she was giving up, but somehow she just couldn’t. Arranging her raven, black dress, she lowered her cello in between her legs. Then, she lifted the bow into the air and landed it on the strings. She pulled. Her arm seemed to glide back and forth as she played on. The music rang in her ears as the sound echoed in the once-silent room. It was as if the room was filled with loud speakers.

When Sara finally finished, she stood up and strolled to the resting place of her instrument. She stopped in front of it, lingering for a while, and it was as if time stood still just for her. Slowly, she put her bow away. Then, with her free hand she stroked the smooth wood on the side of the cello and gently lowered it down into its resting place.

Sara looked around the room for the last time and walked out. Someone else would enjoy her music now. She decided to let it go.

He stood there, sweat dripping off his face like water coming out of a drain. His yellow goalie shirt flapped in the wind as he watched the other players fight for the ball on the other side of the field. There were only thirty seconds left on the clock. The game was tied at the end of the fourth quarter.

Sometimes goalie is the most boring position, he thought. Then, as if someone had just waved a magic wand, the ball exploded out of the pile, with a player right behind it. He instantly regretted his sin of thinking bad thoughts about playing goalie. He bent his body in the goalie position, arms and legs spread out in a W-formation. All the other players were far behind the player with the ball. He knew it was just going to be one-on-one.

“Come on!” one fan yelled.

“You can save it!” screamed another.

Quiet, he thought. I’m concentrating. The player sprinting towards him had a confident smile on his face. Overconfident, he thought.

Well, his foot wasn’t overconfident. It swung back, then slammed into the ball. The ball came towards him as though it was fired out of a gun. He waited until the last second, then threw himself at the top, right-hand corner yelling out loud where he thought the ball would go. The crowd went completely silent, as if someone had hit the mute button on the stadium. He thought he was going to miss, the crowd thought he was going to miss, his teammates thought he was going to miss, the other team thought he was going to miss.

But then he heard the SMACK of the ball hitting his goalie glove. The sound reverberated throughout the whole stadium. Another moment of silence. Then the crowd erupted like a volcano. He doubted even an air horn could be heard. He picked himself up off the ground yelling, “Yes! Yes!” He had about half a second to steady himself before his team jumped on him, and they collapsed in a jubilant pig-pile.

The game was over.

They had won.

I go for a midnight walk

After the snow has put a white blanket on the ground.

Darkness has fallen quickly,

The black curtain of night.

The moon looks like a dime in the sky,

Leaving the snow a bluish white.

Shadows chase my feet,

Trees branches are like scary claws

Scratching the midnight sky.

Wolves sing their lonely song

To the moon above.

I press my scarf closer to my mouth,

The wool in my mouth tickling my tongue.

The smell of sticky sap fills my nose.

Icy cold snow finds a way into my boots,

And numbs my ankles and feet,

Slowly turning them into ice blocks.

The wind accompanies me like a friend,

And whistles his low, sweet song all the way.

His song goes to the beat of my feet going

Crunch, crunch, crunch

Upon the fresh snow.

I finally find myself in the clearing;

The snow sparkles and glitters,

Untouched by any animal or human.

The midnight sky is cloudless,

The moon shining brightly.

I wait only momentarily,

Then the stars fall from the sky.

They leave streaks as they fall,

Then vanish mysteriously.

I make a wish on one,

A wish that only I will know.

When the stars stop falling,

I start to walk home with the wind,

With the wool tickling my tongue,

Listening to the sound of wolves singing to the moon,

With shadows chasing my feet,

And the trees branches scratching the sky.

I went for a midnight walk

After the snow put a white blanket on the ground.

Darkness had fallen quickly,

The black curtain of night.

The moon looked like a dime in the sky,

Leaving the snow a bluish white.

Warm sand squished under my feet.

Surfboard in my hand,

I ran towards the crashing waves.

I dove into the water

With a splash.

I jumped on the board

Feet planted, toes spread out wide,

Balancing with wide winged arms,

Skimming, sailing, smiling

Over the curving wave.

It curled over me like a curtain.

Then I crashed

And fell tumbling into the surf.

The taste of salt water and seaweed filled my mouth

As I surfaced.

Carrying me back to shore

Sprawled out on the sand

Breathing heavily

As the day came to an end.