Join the new world

I started this serial a long time ago and never finished it. I have decided to revisit it and take it to its completion. That being said, please enjoy the gradual reposting of the first four parts...do yourself a favour and don't look for the next 3 parts by searching my newspaper...enjoy the ride!

Please enjoy this short Christmas serial story, featuring some of eCanada’s more notable citizens. The descriptions of the characters reflect how I view them in my minds eye

At last it was 5 o’clock. Time to extinguish the candles, close the books, and lock the door. It was after-all Christmas eve, and there were places to go and people to see. With the last book closed, I snuffed out the last wick and was left with the warm glow of the streetlight peering in through the windows. I slipped on my woolen overcoat and promptly wrapped my scarf around my neck. Comfortably bundled, I put on my leather gloves and took comfort in the plush fur lining that now enveloped my hands. Making my way out the door, I closed and locked the shop. The “Click-Clack” of the locking mechanism signalling the beginning of my holiday.

The street was covered in a blanket of fresh snow giving it the appearance of a soft marshmallow wonderland. Blazing above were the candle lit coach-lights. Their warm orange glow dancing merrily off the white snow. Further on ahead, shoppers scurried around like mice, trying to lay their hands on that last gift or two, or perhaps the final trappings of a holiday dinner firmly envisioned in their minds eye. On the corner, a man dressed as Santa Claus rang his bell while soliciting whatever donations he could for those who found themselves less fortunate. His nose and cheeks a bright red from the nipping cold in the air.

A tap on my shoulder from behind quickly drew my attention away from this Thomas Kinkade scene. Turning, I was met with the gaze of a friendly face. His long black topcoat and crisp red scarf accenting his dapper beaver fur tall hat. Quickly extending my hand, I took his in a firm handshake.
“Wilhelm Gunter, as I live and breathe...Merry Christmas to you sir!”
“And to you as well Acacia, just on your way home I assume?” he replied
“Indeed sir I am...its Christmas Eve and a few days of rest and merriment await, why don’t you come over and share a drink before you make your way home?” I asked
“Why thank you Acacia, if its not a bother, I think I will”
laughing I replied, “Wilhelm...you're never a bother!”
I had known Wilhelm for a couple of years. In that short space of time he had quickly become a dear friend. His warm manner, honest and humble approach, and genuine good spirit made him a well respected community figure and a loyal friend.

The coach ride to my house was filled with conversation of all things kith and kin. The backdrop of our conversation being filled with the gentle sound of snow crunching under wooden wheels and the sounds of Carollers making their way down the street. It was a scant 20 minutes by coach to my house but it seemed much quicker in the company of Wilhelm. A successful business man in his own right, he had not allowed his success and wealth to stain him. To meet him on the street, you would never know that he was a man of great means and even greater charity. Though he gave generously anonymously, those who knew him best knew how charitable he was with not only his money, but with his time.

Almost as quickly as it had started, the coach stopped and the driver hopped off his perch and opened the door to allow us to exit. Hitched to the front of the coach were two beautiful Lipizzaner Stallions. Magnificent creatures in their own right, they were, on this evening, stunning in the moonlight and snow covered backdrop. Shaking their heads, the bells on their reigns chimed with glee adding a dash of Christmas to an already beautiful scene.

Having tipped the driver for his efforts, he hoisted himself back up to his seat and with a gentle crack of the reigns, he was off again in search of his next fare. We stood and watched as the Stallions pulled away. The sounds of the crackle and crunch of snow quickly becoming softer and softer until we could hear it no more. The falling snow collecting on our topcoats, we turned to make our way to the house.

The front walk had not been tread in almost 8 hours leaving a virgin blanket of snow before us. The cobblestone steps and sidewall were barely visible underfoot. The coach-light lantern casting a warm golden hue across the snow illuminating our way. My house was a modest cottage style home of two stories. Nestled into the woods, large pine shrubs dotted the front of the house and looked as though a giant coat of icing had been poured on them. A single pine treed stood out front, its hearty branches stretching out as if welcoming me home from a long days work. The front porch was open and supported by four white columns, two of them framing a solid wooden door with a wreath. Inside we could see the light from the candles that were burning. Surely a well stoked fireplace hearth awaited its now well chilled visitors.

Carefully making our way up the steps, I promptly opened the door as we both ushered ourselves into the hug of a warm house. Only after closing the door and turning around did I realize, we were not alone...