​

Psalmi XCVI

"Montes sicut cera fluxerunt a facie Domini; a facie Domini omnis terra." 

​

​

Canon Missæ

"Qui prídie quam paterétur, accépit panem in sanctas ac venerábiles manus suas, et elevátis óculis in cœlum, ad te Deum Patrem suum omnipoténtem, tibi grátias agens,

​

benedíxit, fregit, dedítque discípulis suis, dicens: 'Accípite, et manducáte ex hoc omnes.

​

Hoc est enim Corpus meum.'"

 

IV Regum XX

​

"Invocavit itaque Isaias propheta Dominum, et reduxit umbram per lineas, quibus jam descenderat in horologio Achaz, retrorsum decem gradibus."

++++++

Saturday

​



​The snow had enveloped all of the town and the mountainside roads, slowing business at the Black Bear Lodge. 

Jackie sipped on her coffee that morning reading the advice section of the Black Bear Morning Post.

She adjusted her glasses as the boss walked inside the lobby, brushing fresh white flecks off his red and black jacket.

​"Mr. Dornwald," said Jackie startled by his sudden arrival.

"I'm gonna need some help, Jackie. You in?"
"Whatever you need, Boss."
"I'm asking as Siegfried. You can stay at the front desk, but if you'd rather I'm going to the Super Bear."
"The Arcade?"
"Right. They've got skee-ball. Can you bowl?"
"I've been known to manage a spare or two."
"Perfect.I'll need a bite before we roll though."

Jackie cooked him some eggs and bratwurst, along with a cup of coffee and a glass of OJ. 
She watched impressed and bewildered as the boss scarfed down the meal in a matter of seconds.
"You're starved, Siegfried!" 
"Me and Crockett were up in the hills all day yesterday."
"What for?"
"Crockett took off like a rocket from Oma's house. After I caught up to him we ended up a bit lost. Don't remember how we got back downhill."
Siegfried gulped his last cup of coffee and clapped his hands.
"Ready for the arcade?"
"I'm getting paid for this, right, Boss?"
"No-of course you could stay here for the rest of your shift and thumb-twiddle."

They left the Lodge, hopping into Siegfried's truck. A Mannheim Steamroller Christmas cassette popped in its player, they slowly drove across the snow packed roads to a synth laden rendition of 'Deck the Halls.'
A few minutes later they were parked outside the Super Bear in the half-timber facade market center of town.

In the hall of mountainous woodland decor, whizzing and beeping automatons and quarter-to-play video games, Siegfried exchanged 100 dollars worth of quarters at a glass counter at the back of the arcade. 
On the opposite side of the counter, a corpulent, sour-faced man shaped like a pear begrudgingly pushed Siegfried and Jackie four hundred quarters in ten plastic bags.

Jackie's little bespectacled eyes widened in delight as she scoped the wares within the case. Therein lay a veritable trove of winnable trinkets: 100 tickets for a pink teddy bear, 200 for a Swiss army knife; 500 for a crystalline ring and 1,000 could be traded for that ever mysterious miniature golden treasure chest.

"That's what we're rolling for, Jackie," said Siegfried, eyeing the chest.
"The treasure chest? It's just a hunk of plastic."
"No...back when Helga and I visited here when we were younger...legend among the youth was that it contained a priceless object...a priceless pearl or a gem of some sort. If you weren't satisfied with what's inside you can return it was the guarantee."

Money bags in hand, they strolled through a cacophony of 8-bit music squealing from arcade game cabinets, glittering holly and tinsel dangling from the rafters. Across from the rows of game cabinets on the east-facing wall was an alley of twenty-some skee-ball machines. 

Jackie took the machine to Siegfried's left, as he handed his assistant a quarter. 
Eight balls rolled into their queue on the right side of the sloped machine. 
A ball held to his heart he patted Jackie on the back and said: "Aim high."
The bowling commenced. 
Rolling and rolling ball after ball up the slope of the machine, Jackie managed to plop her tosses in enough high scoring rings to pump out a decent number of tickets. 
Siegfried was locked in on a streak, rolling, scooping, pushing in quarters, tickets cranking out like a dragon's tail drawn from its lair.
At around noon they had won 500 tickets and had spent 300 quarters.

Taking a lunch break, they got cokes and burgers from the 'Bear Burger and Soda Shop' next door before returning to their laborious rolling.
It was three o'clock when Siegfried counted their total booty: 900 tickets.
"I may need some more quarters. Hold on, Jackie." 
Stepping up to the counter he flagged the pear shaped man down and asked for twenty dollars worth of quarters. The clerk scowled.
"Damn well will take all my quarters at this rate."
"You want my cash or not?"
"I'm paid by the hour, pal," he said clawing Siegfried's twenty out of his palm.
Grumbling inaudibly, he passed Siegfried two bags of eighty quarters. 
Eyeing Jackie rolling in the corner a perverse grin crept on his purple lips.

"What are you doing here with another girl, son? Ain't you courtin' that pretty blonde, gal? What's'er name? Olga?"
"If you tell my girl I'm dating a pretty blonde named Olga she'll kill me first and you after."
"But there was another one too...more than one in fact. That brunette...Now, that girl got herself around."
"Mind your business, clerk."
"Jus' tellin' it like I see it."
Siegfried frowned, turning around to the skee-ball machines as a fat, pink fist came flying at his cheek, eighty dropped silver coins bursting from their bags, scattering across the floor.
Knocked down, the boots of the three hundred pounder Gunnar came stomping into Siegfried's ribs.
Gunnar picked Siegfried up the back of his hair to the screams of Jackie and the annoyed cursing of the clerk.
"Take it outside ya, meathead."
Gunnar looked to the shopkeeper with a glare that said 'I'll clobber you next, boy.' 
The clerk put up his hands. "Ok, ok, just make it quick. Yer scaring away business," he said before he began sweeping up the dropped quarters as Gunnar recommenced his pummeling. 
Blood spurting from his nose and mouth, Siegfried groaned.
Gunnar lifted his fist again. 
He stopped. Then he yelped, stumbling backwards palms covering his eyes.
In front of him was Annie, holding a little candy cane striped bottle of pepper spray.
She and Jackie rushed to Siegfried's side as Gunnar wailed.
"Call 911!" said Jackie, yelling to the oaf sweeping quarters.
"I already have! The cops are comin' to arrest you hoodlums."
"No. I saw you, you haven't done shit!" said Jackie livid.
She hopped over the counter in front of the treasured prizes to a telephone, dialing up the ambulance. 
"Annie! Look out!" she said, dropping the phone.
Gunnar was charging Annie like a mad bull.
Annie blasted his face full of spray, sending him down,cursing and stumbling out the door.
"3:03, by the Burger Bear, just like the Adventskalender said," said Annie under her breath as she knelt down to Siegfried out cold on the floor.
+++++
The paramedics arrived soon after Gunnar had fled, the girls piling into the back of the ambulance with Siegfried.
At Black Bear Valley hospital, Siegfried was treated for his cuts and wounds but otherwise was allowed to leave by that evening.
"Well, that was a failed plan with the skee-ball," said Siegfried. "Doubt that jerk clerk will trade the chest for a measly 900 tickets."

Jackie wagged her finger.  "Don't be so sure, Mr. Dornwald. I pocketed something before we left."
Cupped in her hands lay the golden treasure chest.
"Damn! I knew I could count on you, Jackie," said Siegfried.

Jackie blushed.
"Ah-hem, don't forget who gave Gunnar a face full of pepper spray" said Annie.
"And Annie...you saved my ass...thank you."
"No, that old timer and his calendar at the Cougar saved your ass...really strange course of events these past couple of days. Needless to say Gunnar and I have split up for good."
"Thank you both, I mean, I could ki-..." Siegfried stopped mid-sentence. 
Helga was standing in the doorway.
"I called her when we arrived," said Annie. 
"Hey, Helga," said Siegfried bashfully.

Helga in a red dress shimmied into the room and kissed Siegfried on the lips. "You moron...see what happens when you fool around." 
Jackie clumsily hid the treasure chest behind her back.
Annie's smile soured. "I'll go...Wait, one thing. Merry Christmas, Siegfried."
"Merry Christmas, Annie. Thank you again."
She handed Siegfried a newspaper wrapped package before bowing out.

"I believe I'm off the clock, huh Boss? Wait up, I'll walk you out, Annie," said Jackie.
As Jackie left the room, she slipped the treasure chest in Siegfried's leather jacket hanging on the door.
Helga sighed. "Annie explained what happened...The old man at the bar giving her the pepper spray and the exact time to be there..."
"Sounds like a lie, right?" said Siegfried. 
"No, Siegfried. I believe it. Honestly."
"You do?"
"I do. Last night I had heard a voice. Speaking a strange language. Suddenly I was in a room, a dark room full of old men with long white beards dressed in robes as if they were from the Old Testament or something... They were all huddled around a candle's flame, taking turns peering into it as if it were a keyhole. 
Behind them was a lump of powdery dough on a kitchen counter...thing was, the dough was kneading itself.  Flattening itself out, hovering like a flying saucer across the men's beards and placing itself into an oven. The men were now gathered around the oven, looking through its transparent door. They watched the dough as little lumps emerged, valleys, cliffs, cabins and lakes, a whole mountain had risen. And I saw you, Siegfried, coming down one of those hills with Crockett along with a lady in a green dress..."
"Strange dream," said Siegfried.
"That's not all...Inside the glass I saw a pale face, dripping and melting like a burning candle!"
"Sounds like the same face I saw in the window of Roon 8 at the Lodge," said Siegfried.
"Right. With Annie," said Helga.
"Yes."
"Wonder what sort of Christmas gift she gave you there," said Helga pointing to the newspaper wrapped square in the corner.
"Might as well take a look," said Siegfried.
Unwrapping the newspaper, he presented the contents to Helga.

"A photo album?" said Helga.
The album's front cover was labeled 'Weihnachten 1871-1995'
Helga flipped through the pages.
"Look," said Siegfried, his blue eyes widening, pointing to a photo of a pretty lady in front of a half-timbered home. A young man in a leather jacket stood beside her, a hunting rifle held at his side, a hefty stag splayed out in the foreground snow.
"Sort of looks like you," said Helga, queerly.  
"And the girl sorta looks like, wait...her name is labeled there- Agatha Creutzburg. Koenigsberg, 1931."
"Oma?? Why would Annie have this?" said Helga darkly.
Flipping through the album she landed on the last page labeled 1989, Brandenburg.
A little blonde girl rode a sled down a bunny slope, her Mom and Dad waiting with encouraging open arms at the bottom of the hill.
"...It's you," said Siegfried. 
Helga pointed to the girl's mother.
"And Annie."

​+++++

Sunday
The 4th Sunday in Advent and Christmas Eve

The Black Bear Cafe was buzzing with customers on Christmas Eve morning.
Otto had left St. Gertrude's 8:00 am low mass to pick up a special order from the diner for the Creutzburg's Christmas Day supper.
Sitting at his favorite booth under an elk head trophy, his great bushy moustache smiled as the waitress waltzed over for his order.
"Oh. Hi, Mr. Creutzburg," said Annie smiling a bit nervously.
"I placed a special order to-go last night. Christmas Goose."
"You ordered just in time. We have an avalanche of Christmas dinners getting sent all over town. Goose is sold out since five minutes ago."
"I figured you'd all be swamped."
"Figured right. Anything else for you while ya wait? Coffee? We have special on white sausages today."
"I'll take that coffee and a butter-brezel if you're still baking 'em," said Otto lighting up a pipe.
"One butter-brezel- you got it.You still know about our secret menu? Most folks don't go for the Old Country stuff these days."
"What a pity," said Otto exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Annie returned a few minutes later with the coffee and pretzel.

"The goose is ready for pick-up whenever you like, Mr. Creutzburg."
"Thanks."
"My pleasure and-just wanted to say-Merry Christmas to you and your family. Even Helga, though she hates my guts."
"No, no she doesn't."
"Enjoy the coffee, Mr. Creutzburg."
"It's Otto, Annie."
"Enjoy the coffee, Otto."
"How's your family, by the way?"
"My family?"
"Yes. Your husband...Kevin was his name?"
"Kevin's long gone. I mean, we've split for a long while now. Since...about when the Soviet Union fell."
"Well then, you're welcome at our house, Annie."
"Thanks, Otto. But I don't think Helga would like me over."
"Stop saying that. Mama misses you. Helga too. You've always been welcome at our home."
"We were close before, I remember...Helga and I."
"Not so long ago, was it? But now you see Siegfried and her are close now, and you don't want to come between them."

"No! Otto, have a nice day."
"Annie, we're all family. Don't forget."
"I haven't forgotten, Otto. Siegfried has! Why I just want him to remember...that's why I gave him the old family photo album. From Room 8 at the Lodge..."

"You'll have to stop pretending we're not family for things to be right, Annie. Helga will know the truth soon enough."
"I can't go back, Otto."
"You were in our home a few nights ago."
"That's impossible."
"Annie. Mama saw you. I saw you. Come home; stop running."
Annie's silent tears glistened under the Christmas lights and tinsel.
"I-I can't go back. She won't let me. Anneliese won't. And Siegfried will be there."

"Siegfried is not the same Siegfried as the old days. We have to hope this time he does his job...that he defends us..."

"Defends us from what?"

"Don't play dumb. You know damn well what has been plaguing our home all these years."

Annie wiped the tears from her face with a green sleeve, nodding. "Yes...yes, I know."
"Why else did you give Siegfried the photo-album if not to have him know what sort of family he is ingratiating himself into? What sort of darkness lurks in our house that must be banished."

"But how?...We've tried everything."

"No, Annie. We haven't."



+++++
 
That morning Siegfried attended low mass with Agatha, Otto and Helga at St. Gertrude's. Before they left, he managed to spot Fr. Lillis emerging from the sacristy.
"Time for confession, Father?"
Fr. Lillis pulled a purple stole from the sacristy and draped it over his black cassock.
"Certainly, Herr Siegfried."
They walked into their respective ends of the confessional booth and leading with the sign of the cross, Fr. Lillis began the sacrament.
Making his confession, Siegfried received a moment of counsel and his penance before saying his act of contrition and the final prayer of absolution:
"Deinde ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis, in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."
"Thank you, Father."

"Happy Christmas, Siegfried."

Siegfried trudged through ankle high snow to the Creutzburg house in time to help Otto chop firewood while Helga baked with Agatha.
"Will you come to the midnight mass?" asked Agatha pulling out a piping hot apple strudel from the oven.
"Of course, Oma."
"Good...we traditionally fast till after mass, though the men are incorrigible and demand sweets...will you wait with me? I know it's torture cooking in the kitchen without a bite to eat."
"First you fast, then you feast, right?" said Helga.
"Right!" smiled Agatha.
The doorbell rang.
"Now who could that be?" said Agatha
"I'll get it, Oma," said Helga going to the door.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her hand to her mouth as the door opened.

Inside walked a man with a neatly trimmed but prominent white moustache and beard clad in a long red and white coat with a black leather belt and fur trimmed cap on his head. Strapped to his side was a falchion sheathed in a candy cane striped scabbard.
"Where's the party?" he said with a jolly timbre.
Agatha's mouth dropped.
"Is it really you?" said Oma.
"In the flesh- I hope I've not spooked you too bad...it's Christmas after all."
Helga hugged the man tight. "I missed you, Opa."
"Oh, Helga, I missed you too...but Opa was busy this Christmas. I had my work cut out this year helping your betrothed; that Siegfried rascal."
"Betrothed?"
"He better be!"
"You met him? Where?"

"At the Crying Cougar of all places. I admit he was being a bit naughty."

Siegfried walked inside from the back door, his arms cradling firewood.
"It's you..." said Siegfried nearly dropping the firewood from his hands.
"Indeed! How did the little scuffle go yesterday?"
"I'm still alive thanks to your calendar's tip off," said Siegfried.

​

As Siegfried shook the man's hand, he was pulled in close, Helga's Opa whispering in his ear: "Treat her well, my boy. This might be our last chance."
The doorbell rang again.
"Now, who could it be- oh! Another pleasant surprise," said Agatha.
"Merry Christmas Eve, everyone," said Father Lillis, brushing snow off his cassock.
Following him walked another man, his hair gray but his face youthful.
"Hey, honeybear," he said to Helga.
"Dad!" said Helga flinging herself into her father's arms, unable to leave his grasp.
Siegfried eventually managed a handshake. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr..."
"Kevin Gagarin," said Helga's father, unsmiling.

"Hello, Kevin," said Opa striking a match to a pipe. 

"Roland," said Kevin looking away from the old man's electric gaze.

Pipe in his mouth, Opa kicked off his boots and plopped into Otto's chair beside the fireplace.

A heap of finely wrapped gifts glimmered underneath the light of four and forty candles from the advent wreath and angel warded fir.
"A beer for Opa," said Agatha placing a frothing golden masskrug beer stein in his grasp.
"Lecker," said Opa taking a sip, the foam covering his moustache.
The door opened.
"How you enjoying my chair, Old Man?" said Otto with a cheerful glimmer in his eye.

"It does the trick as they say, Son."
Otto shook his father's hand then went out to the back with Siegfried to chop more firewood. 
Crockett cautiously curled up at the base of the tree when the commotion had finally died down.

++++++
Opa was slurping his sixth masskrug when the clock struck four.
"And where is Anneliese? She should be here by now," asked Opa to the room.
"Don't worry Opa, she's coming! I'm sure, she's coming," said Agatha rather doubtfully on her rocking chair.

The radio was playing a rendition of 'Adeste Fideles' Fr. Lillis singing along in his bright bass-baritone.
Dusk had fallen. The fourty four candles were brightening the family's faces gathered around the tree.
The doorbell rang again.

"Who the hell is it now?" asked Kevin.
"I'll get it," said Siegfried opening the door. 

Gunnar stood shivering outside, naked, except for boxer briefs and black rubber boots, on the welcome mat pointing a pistol.
"You made a damn fool of me yesterday. You understand? A damn fool!"
"Hold on...easy there," said Siegfried.

Kevin peered outside from the window and yelled.
"Whoa! He's got a gun!" 

"Gunnar!" bellowed Opa stepping outside.
"You are right on time, Herr Gunnar," he said.
Gunnar expressed a look of beady eyed confusion.
"Yes, indeed! I was expecting you at this hour," said Opa looking at his watch,"you are interested in her, yes? My Anneliese?"
"What are you talking about?" said Gunnar dully.
"Here: look."
Opa unfolded a piece of violet paper.
Thereon were written eight dates in golden ink, starting from the previous Sunday, December 17th, 1995, to that present hour on Christmas Eve.
Under Christmas Eve was scrawled: 4:01-Gunnar's got a gun. The Grandfather uses pepper spray.
Opa sprayed Gunnar in the face, the boy dropping  himself and his gun to the snow, plunging his burning face into the relief of the ice.

​

The men in the house detained him
until Sheriff Brunswick arrived a half hour after, handcuffing a blubbering Gunnar.
"Thanks, Sherriff," said Opa saluting.
"I only came hoping for a bite of apple strudel. Instead a find a half-naked gorilla pepper sprayed..."
"I'm sure Oma can help you with that strudel," said Opa grinning.

+++++
The snow had piled high by nightfall. Indoors, warm around the fire, the family had settled in close to the tree as 'O Tannenbaum' played on the radio.
"...Anneliese," muttered Opa.
"You really want her to show up?" said Kevin.
"Of course! She's my daughter!"
"And she's my ex," said Kevin plopping a can of Sud Lite on the dinner table.
Opa rose to his feet.
"We've invited you warmly enough here, Kevin. It's your choice if you decide you can't be a husband to her anymore, but don't ever bring your ancient
schism back into my house!"

"She left me, Roland...Helga, help Daddy out here...Tell the Old Man what Anneliese did to Daddy."
Helga said nothing, tears in her eyes.
"Alright. I see how this is going to be...this damn house never wanted me, and I don't want it neither...it's me or them, Helga...who are you going to pick?"
"My family, Daddy. That means you too."
Kevin shook his head. "You just don't get it! I'm not good enough? Not as good as...him?"

He extended an accusing finger at Siegfried.

Cursing the family, he stormed out of the house slamming the door to his daughter's cries.
+++++
Christmas

All but Siegfried and Opa had gone to St. Gertrude's for midnight mass. 
The grandfather clock tolled twelve when Opa smiled and said, "Christmas is here!...could you get me some snuff? It's down the hall next to Helga's room in a little blue box."
Siegfried nodded and made his way towards the hall. "Sure, Opa."

"It's Roland, Siegfried."

"Roland," said Siegfried smiling.

The candlelit hallway projected a stream of light reflecting along the hardwood floor guiding Siegfried, keeping his pace slow as he opened the door next to Helga's room.
Inside he peered around, pitch dark except for a candle burning close to the bed allowing his eyes to just make out the outline of a dresser with the little container on top. Grabbing the snuff box, he turned before his blood turned ice cold.
A hand had touched his arm.
He looked to his side.

Slender fingers of an outstretched pale hand glowed in the candlelight.

A lady in a white nightgown, her hair long and black and covering her face sat on the floor. She had been holding the bedside candle there.

Her translucent hand gently stroked Siegfried's arm.

Siegfried pulled back falling and stumbling to the ground.

The world spinning, he gathered himself to his feet, a quiet voice behind him saying: 
"Don't leave me...I just wanted to be close to my daughter. If you go...I'll lose her forever."
He dared not look though recognized the voice. "Annie...?"
 

He crawled backwards, the woman following him, holding the candle high in the dark hall. Finally risen to his feet as they reached the staircase, down the stairs clopped cloven hoof. 
Siegfried froze as the great hand of the dark beast reached for his throat.

In the candlelight he looked upon its masked face before it tore away that abyssal veil.

There stared back a handsome, youthful human face.

"Out!" said Anneliese, her voice a belabored wheeze.

The beast recoiled in pain at the candlelight; roaring like a bear, clawing at them both in retaliation.
Siegfried ducked.
A hoof was raised over his head.
The beast shrieked like a zoo on fire.

In its shrieking all the lights of the house intensified as if they were a direct beam of sunlight after dawn.
A sword was plunged in its neck.

Opa retracted his falchion from the beast's neck, that medieval sword's silvery surface reflecting the light of Anneliese's candle.

The Beat seethed.

It snatched the old man's blade, driving it into his belly.

"Opa!" cried Anneliese.

​

Roland stumbled backwards, moaning.

"Siegfried...help...us."

Siegfried turned to the great beast, its tongue flicking at him in mocking delight.

Anneliese had fallen over in her grandfather's body, weeping.

Siegfried grit his teeth and lifted Roland's sword.

​

The beast slowly stepped backwards as Siegfried slashed and stabbed the air.

"Venite adoremus Dominum," said the Beast amused.

 Siegfried screamed in rage.

He scaled the stairs, chasing the beast into the dark of the upstairs room.

There he saw nothing, heard nothing, sensing only a terrible cold permeated the place.

​

"Ego sum Pater patrum, Dominus Mundi," spoke the wretched thing from the dark.

Siegfried charged within that abyss slashing blindly.

"Ego sum tuus Pater, Sigurthus. Tua Mater, tuus Amator. Tua Amatrix."

Siegfried clenched the sword.

He felt the beast's sepulchral breath on the back of his neck.

Swinging the blade it halted, fell, turned inwards.

The falchion began to pierce his breast, slowly plunging deeper and deeper.

Siegfried dropped to his knees.

"Ego sum tuus Deus!" the Beast hissed.

He felt life escaping him. The darkness coiled around him like those plutonian thorns under Room 8.

​

He reached into his jacket's pocket.

Pulling out a little box with the last bit of life he had to muster, he flicked its top open.

The little treasure chest burst with an intense light, immersing the entire chamber with a fire scorching the howling beast.

+++++

​

He could see clearly: the flames of forty tapers burning on an east-facing altar of a marble temple, coloring the space with a muted flickering orange.

Between the shadows he spotted the faces of  Roland, Otto, Agatha, Anneliese, Annie and Helga facing Father Lillis, that sacrificial celebrant clad in a golden chasuble who faced the altar.

Perched on the altar among the candles was a lady dressed in golden threads, her hair covered in a cerulean veil. A man in a forest green tunic, his hair hoary, knelt at the foot of the altar ringing a set of chime bells.

​

As the man in green rang the bells, Father Lillis knelt before lifting a golden disc up to the starry glass dome ceiling of the temple, the disc radiating with a burning light like the sun; Siegfried lowered his head, shielding his face from it intensity.

The others bowed in their kneeling, prostrating to the disc's elevation.

Men, long bearded and ancient, lined the pillars of the temple, too kneeling in adoration of the disc.

A small voice beside Siegfried whispered:

"Behold the Ancient Yuletide Carol."

​

Siegfried turned to the sides northern and southern sides of the temple exposed to the frosty elements outside, a steady snow falling.

Pines trembled in the frosty wind compassing the temple. Near and far snow capped mountains dribbled and melted like ice cream cones as the sunbeam radiance of the disc reached their peaks and valleys.

Beside Siegfried knelt a small blonde girl clad in white, smiling, her milk white flesh reflecting the disc's brilliance.

"Do you know their names?" she asked gesturing to those in attendance.

Before Siegfried had time to confess he did not know their names they vanished from the temple.

+++++



The child and Siegfried stood at the base of the Cretuzburg house living room fir.

In his left hand he held Roland's folded Adventskalender. Unfolding it, he read through its dates, mouthing the words at the bottom of the page:

St. Stephen's Day, 1998. Creutzburg Homestead. The lady of the house returns with a succulent meal.

Pressed to his sternum was the priceless gold chest.

The child whispered. "Listen,."

Ear held close to the open chest, Siegfried heard a somber tune as the child sang in a gentle, mellifluous voice:

​

Maria durch ein Dornwald ging,
Kyrie eleison.
Maria durch ein Dornwald ging,
der hat in sieben Jahrn kein Laub getragen.
Jesus und Maria.

Was trug Maria unter ihrem Herzen?
Kyrie eleison.
Ein kleines Kindlein ohne Schmerzen,
das trug Maria unter ihrem Herzen.
Jesus und Maria.

Da haben die Dornen Rosen getragen,
Kyrie eleison.
Als das Kindlein durch den Wald getragen,
da haben die Dornen Rosen getragen.
Jesus und Maria.

​

"Protect me, Child, that I might protect them," said Siegfried to the child as it finished the song, the music box still playing.

The child held the white candle in its hand and lowering it beside the tree, placed it in the middle of the advent wreath.

"Merry Christmas, Siegfried, may your days ahead be guided by this light of the joyful mysteries."

Rising overhead, the angelic Child levitated and froze as it topped the Christmas tree.

​

The front door opened.

Inside stepped a beautiful blonde woman, carrying two buckets of a steaming sumptuous supper.

"Martin, got chicken and mashed potatoes." 

Setting the food down on the dining table, she removed her snow dusted gloves and sighed.

"Martin? You home?"

Her gaze fell to a wooden nutcracker underneath the tree, painted in the attire of a Prussian soldier.

A little toothpick like saber was lodged where his heart had ought to be.

The woman scooped up the nutcracker placing it on the fireplace mantel.

She noticed then the miniature treasure chest in its right nub-hand, a purple velvet scroll in the left.

Heavy footsteps tromped down the stairs.

"Martin? Did you hear me? Got chicken."

She looked to the staircase and said to the shadows:

"Martin? Turn the lights on there, I can't see a damn thing."

From the opposite end of the fireplace glass, ever so faintly was a song that neither the woman nor the one she called out could quite audibly perceive. To their ears it was a wailing, a ghostly, intrusive moan. It was what years before the lady would have known to be the final chant of Father Lillis before imparting his benediction on his flock, the chant known to both monastery and film studio transmitted from man to man, century to century, millennium to millennium. 

No voice, no response returned from the staircase. The heavy footsteps tromped back upstairs and shut the bedroom door.

Beyond the glass a voice finished its song, waiting for a response:

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