NOTE: As Wing is aware, I was accused of plagerism for this piece. It makes me really quite upset to think that I have caused such a reaction. Therefore, I must note very clearly that this is based off the German Christmas folk tale, Christuskind but it is entirely my work. None of it is copy/pasted; only the beginning part of the plot has similarities. Please enjoy.
The Tale of Christenkind
The air burned the lungs of a young boy as he huddled under his cloak for warmth. He watched his misty breath escape his lips, and imagined that he was breathing fire into the icy breeze.
“If I were a drache, I would be able to keep myself warm just by huffing like this,” he puffed his cheeks and blew as hard as he could before frowning in defeat.
“I need to find some shelter; I can’t stay out here or I’ll freeze to death.”
As the child wandered through the streets of a busy town, he noticed an iced plum pudding in a bakery stall. The fruity aroma wafted around him and mulled his mind into a trance. His tastebuds tingled; they longed for the rich, warm treat to coat his tongue in sugary goodness. The baker sneered at the child who lofted around his shop.
“Get out of here! I’m not giving away my goods to the likes of you,” he growled as he glanced down at him. The boy followed the man’s stare to his own sodden shoes. They were water damaged and gritty; one was missing its laces while the other sported a rip over the toes. The boy looked like a vagabond, and so, when he reached into his patchy pockets for some money, the baker assumed he had stolen it. A vein bulged on the man’s temple as he lifted his rolling pin threateningly.
“I’m not taking your dirty money; verpiss dich before I call the police!” he spat and pounded the pin to his palm. Without hesitation, the boy scurried away through the snow.
Further down the street, he saw an extravagant manor. From behind stained-glass windows, the flickering warmth of an elegant fireplace beckoned him closer. The boy gasped. His eyes were drawn to the glimmer of a golden star that was perched upon a Christmas tree. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Bells and baubles that were made of the finest materials, hung proudly on the boughs like trophies on a veteran’s chest. His dainty fingers brushed along the frosty glass; he could almost feel the fire kissing his skin. With a glance over his shoulder, the boy gently tapped on the window.
“What was that noise? Gustav, go and see if we have a guest,” a deep voice called from the lounge room. The door was opened by an attendant who was dressed in a crisp white suit. He looked down to see a timid little boy whose dirty blond locks clung to pale cheeks. The boy closed his eyes and indulged in the warm gush of air that escaped from within.
“Kann ich Ihnen helfen?” He asked, wondering what the child wanted.
“Please, sir, may I sit by your fire? My toes have fallen victim to Jack Frost and it’s getting rather dark.” With a piteous look, the attendant shook his head and sighed.
“Wer ist da?” The master asked in a demanding tone as he peeked over the butler’s shoulder. He was a tall man whose long neck was hugged by a fine cashmere scarf. His stomach bulged a little under robes that smelled like parchment and musky cologne. Surely a man of such wealth would make room for me on Christmas eve. the boy thought to himself. The lord of the house looked revolted by the sight of the child.
“What does he want?” The he hissed at the attendant.
“The boy seeks shelter, my lord,” Gustav replied. With a look as sharp as his tongue, the master took hold of the handles of the door.
“Nein; I’m a business man, not a philanthropist,” he said cruelly before slamming the door.
As snow continued to fall, the sun seeped from the sky and left a bitter night chill. The blonde boy continued to walk along all of the main roads and alleys. The winter breeze raged against his shivering skin indignantly, as it choked him with its dry grip. He hoped that somewhere, someone would take him in.
He paused at a house that twinkled with Christmas lights. Through the window, he saw two children playing games with each other. Their cheeks were flushed from laughter and their grins were broad. From the outside looking in, he felt an aching desire to be part of the festivities. He found himself beaming from the contagious joy that radiated from the little home. His hands reached out to touch them, but he only made contact with the glass. The girl snapped her attention to the boy outside. Her brother pushed a toy truck in her direction and didn’t notice where her eyes were fixed.
“Mutter! There is a little boy standing outside. He is watching Hans and I playing with das spielzeug,” she squealed as she waved the toy in the air. Adrenaline coursed through the outsider’s veins. What if they are mad at me? I don’t want to scare anyone. A woman came to the door with an apron around her waist; she was dusted with flour and had her hair tied back in a messy bun. He noticed that her features were rat-like as she squinted down at him through beady eyes.
“What do you want?” She said menacingly. He began to stutter about wanting to play with the children, but the mother shook her head and thrust her arm forth to signal her wish for him to leave.
Misery crept over his skin and sunk into every pore; it lurked around his nervous system as it nibbled at his esteem. The boy kept walking towards the edge of the town, until he found a bridge he could sleep under. It was cold and gloomy, but it was safe. After trying to salvage something to sleep on, he settled for some old clothes he found by a dumpster. An unpleasant smell lingered on the damp rags. Nonetheless, it was better than sleeping on the bare concrete. It was quite isolated on this side of town; he figured no one would disturb him while he slept.
As he huddled up with his knees to his chest, the boy tried to think of better times. It was so hard to see beyond his rough exterior. So many people around him sneered in contempt and evaded his outstretched hands. I don’t understand why so many people hate me. Does being born to poverty make me an ulcer to society? Before he could continue on his train of thought, the echo of clanging metal vibrated around him. Cackling laughter of some teenagers followed as the sounds of metal being kicked around rung in the boy’s ears. They were getting closer; he was petrified into silence.
“Hey! There is a kleines kind under the bridge!” A young man called out. He kicked a tin can towards the little boy who was huddled in the shadows.
“Please, don’t hurt me!” The boy cried. He swiftly leapt onto his feet as three teenagers came closer. They laughed at his trembling arms and knees.
“We aren’t going to hurt you; what are you doing out here?” One asked out of concern. The boy exchanged glances of uncertainty with the new comer, before he finally spoke.
“I have nowhere to go.”
“That’s ridiculous; you can’t stay out here,” a second called out.
“Come on; let’s get you somewhere warm.”
After a long walk through a neighbourhood that looked less-than-inviting, the gang pointed out a run-down industrial estate. It was a large building made of steel and concrete; it held no aesthetic value at all. A wire fence surrounded the weedy lawn and the windows were barred with wrought iron. Above the door was a sign that read “Obdachlosenheim.”
“Homeless shelter?” The boy asked curiously.
“Yep, Fritz, Viktor and I stay here with Tante Anna.” The first boy grinned.
“Who is Tante Anna?”
“She is the warden who looks after all homeless kinder like us. We call her Tante because she is like family,” Viktor replied with a smile.
“She sounds nice.” The little blonde boy muttered as he was lead inside the shelter. When they walked inside, the group was greeted by a rather plain looking woman who had mousey brown hair.
“What are you three doing out past curfew? You scared me half to death!” She sighed as she clucked her tongue.
“We were just exploring; can’t you be a little easy on us? It is Christmas Eve after all,” Fritz winked with a cheeky smirk.
“You best be a good boy if you want Sainte Nikolae to visit you tonight,” she warned playfully. Her face crinkled as she smiled. Anna’s skin was slightly discoloured from age and she sported three dark hairs on her chin, yet she was the embodiment of perfection. Her peridot irises radiated empathy and compassion in its rawest form. The chips in her teeth did not hinder the expression of her whimsical nature, but rather they revealed the beauty in her faults. Her eyes fell upon the shivering little stranger who hid behind Viktor’s back.
“Who is this we have here?” Tante Anna asked.
“We found him under the bridge,” Viktor replied.
“Oh heavens he is freezing; quick, let’s sit him down beside the fire.”
Anna pulled him closer to her chest and enveloped him into a hug. Finally, he could feel warmth on his skin, both from the flame and of human touch. Anna began to sing him a lullaby as he rested his head on her shoulder. He drifted into dreams sparked by the longing for a world made up of more people like her. His breathing tapered to a final exhale of relief, before he went limp in her arms. Tante Anna was petrified into a chill of dread. She pressed her fingers over the boy’s wrist before letting it slip from her grip.
“No; he can’t be,” she whispered to herself as she lifted him from her arms. His golden curls fell in front of his eyes as his head drooped. Anna began frantically pounding on his chest rhythmically to try and jolt his heart into beating.
“What’s wrong?!” Fritz asked aghast.
“Don’t ask questions just help me; his heart has stopped!” The children all frantically ran around the room looking for water, blankets, and whatever else they could find that could help.
“Tante Anna, will he be okay?” a red-haired girl asked in a sob.
“Oh lord, do I hope so.” Anna said as she continued to perform the compressions. She paused and pressed her ear to the boy’s chest. There was nothing. Everyone looked over to Anna eagerly; she shook her head slowly. A spluttering cough followed the sound of the child sucking air into his lungs. Everyone sprung backwards to give him some room. His eyes snapped open; his pupils dilated and his irises glowed gold.
Anna reached out to cradle his head, but before she could lift him from the ground, he screamed in pain and curled into a ball. A couple of girls ran over to help him, but his whole body broke out in convulsions. Tante held the younger children closer, though she was as frightened as they were. The glowing child thrashed about; blood spurted from his shoulder blades and spattered across the floor. Girls shrieked as two feathery tendrils were thrust from his deltoids. Blood was flung from the tips as they flexed like fingers stretching from a clenched hand. The red blotched feathers fanned out either side of the boy until they spread to twice his height.
“Oh mein gott; they’re wings!” Viktor gasped.
He flapped the tendrils forcefully to propel himself above the ground. Everyone stared at him in silence, unable to move; the only sound within the shelter was the whoosh of the air beneath the angel’s wings.
“I am the Christenkind and I have long been seeking someone with a heart like yours,” he chimed in an eerie, high-pitched tone. Anna took a step back in awe as the seraph continued.
“You take in people, who are most in need, here at this Obdachlosenheim. You treat them as your own family and welcome them to a place they can call home.”
“Everyone deserves a roof over their heads and food in their bellies; we just try to do the best we can with what little we have,” the woman mumbled with tears in her eyes.
“This philosophy has restored my faith in humanity. Every Christmas for the last three hundred and sixty five years, I have sought shelter and kindness. Those who bestow it upon me are deserving of my blessing of good fortune, whilst those who turn me away are subject to misery and disaster,” he explained.
“I d-don’t understand,” she stuttered. The angel pressed his finger to his lips and glided over to Anna. Her eyes reflected Christenkind’s glossy skin; his body seemed to be coated with flawless gold as every cell in his body began to harden into the precious metal. Without another word, the angel kissed her forehead and gently blew a gust of wind over her head. A tingling sensation spread, from the place where the angel’s lips had touched her skin, to every surface of her body. A crescent shaped mark appeared on her forehead in golden ink. Her hands flew to her face to stroke the markings he had left on her. Each in turn, the Christenkind kissed and blessed all of the children in the shelter. Everyone within the Obdachlosenheim broke into a chorus of thank-you’s. With a smile, the angelic child rose above them and closed his eyes. His arms crossed over his chest as he spun faster and faster. In a rapid blur of gold and feathers, he exploded into golden particles. Gasps and screams shook the building as it snowed flakes of gold. The floor quickly became dusted with enough gold to provide a life-time food and necessities for the children.
“Quick, sweep it up and put it in bottles; that is quite a large fortune the Christenkind has given us,” Tante insisted as she handed out the brooms. The children were still shocked and many were crying.
“But the boy just died!” Fritz cried out. He didn’t know what to feel; he did just witness a child sprout wings and combust into a pile of gold after all.
“The spirit of the Christenkind is never truly dead, Fritz. He is out there, trying to help those who are purest at heart. He sacrificed his own body to provide for all of the homeless children in the province by donating to our Obdachlosenheim.”
“Is he really going to be okay?” Fritz asked sceptically. He glanced at the shimmering particles that were scattered across every surface of the room. Tante Anna nodded her head towards the window with a smile. Outside the window, a little boy with dirty blonde curls grinned. His tiny hands were covered by patchy fingerless gloves and he wore the same sodden shoes. With one final wink, the Christenkind turned towards another town and ventured into the snowy night.
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