It's Christmas Time Again: his story-a christmas story

Greetings, all!

Here is the second installment in my Christmas blog post series!

I wrote this Christmas story yesterday, and wanted to share it will you guys. I hope you enjoy it!

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I hold her hand tight. Her dark eyes are fixed on mine; her other hand rests on her round stomach. Her breath comes in short gasps.

It is almost time.

Night is falling and the air is cool. White stars flicker in the darkening sky. The donkey snorts; it skirts a large rock with care, as if it knows how priceless its burden is-the one yet to be born.

The Son of God.

I can see the first of the buildings of my home town in the distance. A flicker of light shows in a window; some inhabitants are still awake. I urge our beast up a slight incline.

The pressure in my hand increases. I look up at my wife. Sweat drips from her forehead. “Joseph…”

I let go of her hand and lay mine on her cheek. “We’re almost there.” I pull the rope tied around the donkey’s neck and hasten forward.

Mary’s eyes close and she grips the lead rope so tight I can see the blue veins in her hand.

The donkey and I stumble onwards. Rocks spew in all directions, kicked up by our feet. Mary’s gasping breaths come faster now. I slide to a stop before the first house and pound on the door until I hear voices inside. An old man opens the door, his keen eyes glittering underneath heavy white brows. I nod my head in respect, and ask for the home of my relatives. He answers, pointing out a small collection of homes in the distance. I thank him and hurry on, conscious ever of Mary’s sighs of pain.

Why had Yahweh entrusted us with his Son? And why at this time? Surely He would have known we would be forced to return to our ancestral town for the census.

The donkey slips, nearly falling. Mary does not scream but grips my shoulder hard as I help the beast. We are nearing the homes.

The night sky above is now dotted with cold stars. One seems to grow larger the longer you look at it; its brilliance overshadows the others around it.

We reach the first of the buildings in the cluster of dwellings. My relatives’ is the third in the line, a small dark home with one window. My heart sinks as I help Mary off the donkey and up the steps to the door. There will not be enough room. I know that before the apologetic woman at the door finishes speaking. I plead with her nonetheless.

“There must be someplace you can put us!” I motion to Mary. “Her time is very near. We can not have the child on the street!”

Mary moans softly, her grip on my arm unbearably strong. I turn back to the woman. “Please!” I am shouting now.

A man’s face appears above the woman’s shoulder. “Put them in the stable,” he says. “They can not come in.”

I lift Mary in my arms and half run, half stagger to the rear of the house. A small hollow in the hill behind the building offers shelter to a motley assortment of sheep. I push my way through and clear a space for Mary, removing my outer cloak and laying it on the hard ground.

The kind woman from the house comes to the entrance of the small cave with some cloth and water. She hands them to me. “It’s the best I can do,” she says, then hurries back the way she came.

I look at the clothes she gave us. Rough material, such as they bury the dead in. Unfit, surely, to wrap the Prince of Peace in. But it is all we have.

The labor is long and painful. I pray for my wife and the child as Mary’s cries grow louder and more agonizing.

Near midnight, a baby’s cry splits the cold night air.

Exhausted, Mary hands Him to me after His first feeding. I wrap Him in the swaddling clothes and lay Him on the only available surface; the animals’ feeding trough. A manger for a King’s bed.

I sit next to my wife and take her hand in mine. She smiles at me. “Isn’t He beautiful?”

We stare at the Son of God. So small, so helpless. I do not understand why Yahweh would choose to send the Messiah in such a form, but I do know that for a short time it will be my burden to raise Him.

Our burden. I smile back at Mary. “He is perfect.”

And although I know the future is full of trials and darkness, for this one small moment, there is light and peace.

For God is with us. 

written by MiddleEarthMusician, December 17th, 2018. 

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Did you like it? It’s my first entry into quasi-flash fiction writing, first person present POV, and nativity stories. I had a ton of fun writing it. :-D

Are you all excited about Christmas? It’s in exactly one week! Eeee!

Namarie,