Christmas Shorts

Echoes of a Flute

Ancient feet moved lithely across new grass, and small eyes nonchalantly beheld the early dew on the leaves. Holding his brown cloak close to him in the cool morning, Nason sat down by his an old oak tree. He sighed with melancholy, watching his visible breath dance in the morning air. He reached into a sack made of soft bark woven together and pulled out a wooden flute. He stared contemplatively at the object for a moment, almost daring himself to bring it to his lips.

He roughly stuffed the flute back into his sack, his eyes darkening with distaste. He wondered if he should get rid of the thing.

The beauty of the forest was largely lost on Nason, as he began his daily brooding.

The ache in his empty heart was greater than the quiet of the forest. He took out his flute, and thought about using it for firewood to be rid of it.

He didn't get too far in his self-pity session before the silence was obliterated.

"Go ahead, play me a song!" The female voice came from behind him and was all too familiar. Nason closed his eyes and shook his head. Just like clockwork.

Nason hazarded a look and wasn't surprised at what he saw. There she was, wearing that ridiculous green tunic, and red hat. Once a year she graced him with her unwanted presence, and once a year he turned her away.

"Why do you think this year will be any different, Sondra?"

Sondra marched up to him with a smile to melt any frost. "Nason! It's so good to see you! How is that fawn that was born last year?"

"Why would you pretend to care about anything that happens in this forest?" Nason's voice was quiet and cynical.

Sondra gave him a look of mock hurt. "I'm not pretending! Just because I want you to come with me, doesn't mean I don't appreciate what goes on here."

Nason shrugged, a frown etched in his face. "The fawn grew up. What more can I say?"

Sondra didn't lose her cheerful demeanor in the face of his nonchalance. "That's great! I always love to hear of animals doing well. Why, just this last month we had a reindeer give birth. We called the baby Mixen!"

"That's ridiculous."

"Sure it is! That's why we picked it."

Nason turned his face away from her. "You are not helping your case. Why would I want to be a part of something frivolous?"

Sondra sat down next to him, causing her pristine green tunic to become soiled by the damp ground. "Oh, come on. You know our work isn't frivolous. We just like to have fun sometimes! We feel our lives are very meaningful, and we find joy in all we do."

Nason put his flute back in his sack. "Joy is quite an elusive breeze for me sometimes."

Sondra's eyes softly looked his way, as if viewing the unseen possibilities. "It doesn't have to be."

Nason frowned, a wave of bitterness surfacing. "Thanks to you and all the others, I've been alone in this forest for hundreds of years now. For so long we had lived in harmony together, away from the humans. Then, all it took was for some rosy cheeked bearded man to come along, and you all followed him like sheep."

Sondra gave a chuckle. "Some of the best biblical metaphors are with sheep."

"I meant it negatively," he grumped. "What does that jolly red-cloaked man offer that is so much better than our old life?"