Noel

  Written By Mudga 

for the Christmas Story Competition

 

I used to hate Christmas. The painful memories it brought back stung, and I found Christmas day would 

sweep by in a tangle of tears. Essentially,it was just another day. Another mission to complete, and 

another day to survive. 

I was named after the celebration, Noel, that's what my mother and father called me. After all, they loved

Christmas. So it was almost preternatural when they both passed away on Christmas day, their favorite

day of the year. I guess that's why I despise the Christmas season, the memories. 

Not many people in Ethiopia celebrate Christmas. People do what they can, for some, Christmas means

large parties, for others, it may mean trying to get people to sleep with a full stomach. I try the latter.

But one Christmas, four years after my parents passed away, something anomalous happened. 

I was darting through the overcrowded fish markets in Ethiopia, everything was normal, loud shop 

owners averted their fish prices, men and women hustled about bargaining and arguing, it was all as it 

should be. 

Suddenly, a hand grasped my upper arm, I flung around to hit whoever it was, when my eyes set upon a

golden figure. I couldn't quite make out his features, he was glowing mass, unearthly and almost like a 

cloud, but still almost human. 

Oddly I didn't feel the urge to scream nor run. I just stood, gazing upon this blinding figure that by now

had let go of me. He then smiled at me, and ushered me through the crowds, common sense would tell

me not to follow a strange man. But this almost seemed different, like i had known this person my whole

life. So I followed him. 

Through the streets we wound, I followed him out of the fish market, where he abruptly stopped. Then,

it happened so fast. 

Colours blurred and the alleyway in which we had been standing in now transformed into a rolling field.

I looked about me in disbelief, Oak trees towered above me, birds chirping and fluttering about. Bees 

hovered above vibrant flowers. It was my idea of heaven. 

Remembering the man, I turned back to him, to see he was watching a happy couple playing with a 

bubbly baby. I gasped, stumbling, tears welled in my eyes. It was them. Mum and Dad...and me.  

Running, I launched myself into the tall grass beside them. They didn't notice me, it was like I wasn't 

there.

 I watched them play with me, laughing and enjoying the meadow in which was so full of joy. 

After what seemed hours of watching my parents and me. I turned back to the man. He looked down on

me, and handed me a small box. Then, the colours began to swirl again, the meadow slowly faded back

into the dingy alleyway beside the fish market. And I was back. But the man wasn't. He had vanished, 

maybe he was still in the gorgeous meadow with my parents, I shall never know. 

My hands still clenched the box, I opened it up. Inside, was a necklace with a small cross dangling from

its chain, and a note with the words merry Christmas

After that Christmas. I swore I would celebrate. I went to church every Sunday, I donated every cent of

my earnings to charity, and I helped other people find joy in the Christmas season. 

As for the man, I never saw him again. But I know who he was. Jesus had helped me find joy, he had 

helped me see what Christmas was really about, it was about him.