“It was Christmas morning and all through the house…..”
were the quiet echoes of Christmases past. The giggles of children creeping downstairs to find plump stockings. The shouts of glee pulling the Christmas orange from the toe of the sock. The ooohes and aaahes of parents opening crazily wrapped gifts from proud children.
The clang and clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen. Cooks’ shouts to scullery maids. Butlers’ formalities. Stable boys familiarities. Maids singing carols just under their breath.
The ringing of doorbell as guests arrived. Ladies floating in gowns of gossamer; sleepy children holding nannies’ hands. The hundred push in/pull out of dinning room chairs. The thousand clinks of crystal holiday toasts, sparkling under the chandelier. The polite level of chatter occasionally broken by louder laughter.
The quiet echoes of Christmases past in the forlorn house. Days of light, laughter, love. Of family, festivities, fun.
Thankfully, the house’s sightless, broken windows can’t read the sign: Condemned. Demolition to begin December 26.
Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale Weaver #45: Christmas Flash Fiction
© taleweaver/ing (phylor) 2015