The following tale was published in the Westmorland Gazette in November 2019. It was one of the winning entries for a competition seeking Winter-themed tales under 300 words.
The Ravens’ Spell
By N. P. Arrowsmith
In a world without laughter, a strange noise wakes the people of an ancient town. The residents are accustomed to the oppressive cackling of ravens, but tonight, all is eerily quiet—except for the solitary call which stirs something strange within the people’s hearts.
The townsfolk, wearing thin rags, grumble as they emerge from cold homes to silence the call. Barefoot, they tread on frosty cobbles and walk beneath icicle archways. The residents do not work together, and consequently, they are poor.
Dim streetlights cast narrow alleys in a glow devoid of colour. Tall, stone houses funnel the townsfolk towards the square. The ravens sit still, no longer cavorting atop the antiquated rooftops and steeples.
The strange chuckle multiplies, more residents wake, and miserable faces begin to crack. Another new noise is heard—a jingle.
Streets branch off the town square like tentacles, and from each, people converge. At the centre is a man with a bushy, white beard and a bright, red suit. He wraps each resident in thick clothes, hands them slippers and a small bell, and embraces them with a warm hug. He spreads his joy and soon the whole town is awake and in merry song.
There is music, colour and mouths that curl curiously at both ends. The ravens flee; their gloomy spell is broken. The jolly man leaves on a peculiar chariot, but he is not forgotten. In time, the clothes perish and the slippers crumble, but they work together to make new ones. The true gift was kindness. Every year, the new community celebrate with a great festival because now they know happiness and cheer and laughter.
N. P.
