The wind whistled outside as white flurries pounded the windows and stuck to the panes. The cold wanted in, and the only defense of the people inside the cabin were piles of blankets and a roaring fire.
The door flew open. A man entered, as did the storm. Snow dusted the floor and clung to his tall frame as he struggled to lock it back out again, and stomped his feet once he succeeded.
“I’m afraid we won’t be getting out of here anytime soon.” He slipped out of his coat and hung it on the rack affixed to the wall. “This blizzard came from nowhere.”
“Oh, Papa,” a redheaded young woman moaned, who bore little resemblance to the dark-haired man who had sired her. “What about Christmas?”
Papa spread his hands. “What about Christmas? We’re all gathered here.”
“But we don’t have a tree!” The littlest girl in the room chirped. She was already donned in a nightgown with her dark blonde hair braided down her back. “Or any presents!”
The man stroked his dark mustache. “Well, we do have a roof over our heads, though. And this cabin is warm, and we have each other.”
The two middle boys, who had gotten into a rather bad tiff earlier in the day, glared at each other. The younger of the two locked eyes with his current nemesis and muttered under his breath, “I don’t want to have you.”
The older, now-offended boy jumped up. “All right. You asked for it!” And he grabbed one of the blankets off the sofa and leapt on his brother. The two rolled about and came dangerously close to the hearth until the eldest child, a girl with their father’s dark hair and eyes, stepped in and separated them.
“You two are fourteen and eleven now. When are you going to behave yourselves?” She held both boys by their collars and hauled them away from a fiery death.
All this was observed by two silent people, tucked right by the fireplace. One was a tall, thin boy in a wheelchair, a checkered blanket covering his lower half. A lean girl, more bones than flesh it seemed, sat next to him, her head on his lap, and her wild, curly, ash brown hair draped across his throw. These two relaxed against each other with what could only be described as people who share a split soul; a friendship so strong, born of secrets, mysteries, and unfathomable, inexplicable trust. Such bonds could never be described, not even by the poets, and can only be understood if one owns a split soul themselves.
“This is going to be the most boring Christmas ever,” the eleven-year-old moaned. He let his head clunk against the couch. “We have nothing to do!”
“We have our imaginations,” the redhead sister reminded him. “And we can read.”
This brought groans from both boys, and the youngest tacked on, “Like I said. Boring.”
The boy in the wheelchair stirred a bit. He adjusted his position and rested his hand on the head of the sharer of his soul. “Come on, don’t complain. How about we share stories?”
The eldest girl reclaimed her position on the couch. “I take it from your suggestion that you have one in mind.”
“I do.” The wheelchair-bound boy gave a shy smile to the group. “But I don’t know if you’re interested in mermaids, mermen, and sea witches.”
The redhead—who, despite being twenty, was still very much interested in all aforementioned things—perked up, as did her eight-year-old sister.
“Yes!” the elder girl breathed. She clasped her hands together and cinched the shawl around her shoulders tighter.
“Is this a kissing story?” The eleven-year-old eyed the storyteller with such a dubious expression, as if a kissing story was the equivalent of switching out an apple pie for a mud pie.
The other boy considered this with a tilt of his dark head. “Hmm...no. Not really. But it is a story of love and betrayal and everything in between.”
The younger boy scratched at a freckle on his chin. “Well, betrayal is good.”
Papa chuckled to himself. “Agreed. Speaking of betrayal, I best go make sure your mother and grandmother haven’t murdered each other. You all behave, and don’t stay up too late.”
The boy in the wheelchair watched the flames for a moment. Their reflection flickered across his face before he began his story in a low tone… “Once upon a time…”
~~
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