Christmas is a time of joy, love, generosity, forgiveness… bla bla bla. To me, Christmas is just a commercialized holiday that forces you to feel happy when you’re actually not, stresses you out with all kinds of obligations and just so fake that it makes me feel more depressed than ever. Why doesn’t Christmas just stand for: an optional holiday, you may give gifts but you can also just tell people what you feel and…by the way, you can just do that every moment of the year and you don’t need Christmas to remind you of that? I hate Christmas, if you haven’t noticed it yet…but, not entirely. There is one thing I like about Christmas, not the red and white colour combination but the red and black, the blood and darkness, the ghost stories told around the fireplace with chestnuts in the oven and more wine and chocolate than you can handle. The ghost stories are all that matter to me. And for that reason, just like in the Dickens story, I will tell you about three ghosts that decided to pay me a visit.

It was 3.31 in the afternoon and it was pouring rain. I looked outside my window and sighed. I hated it, for it always rained in the Netherlands during Christmas time. I suddenly heard an eerie whisper that brought tears to my eyes:

‘It can’t rain all the time…’

I remembered the words. It took me back to 1993 when I was just a child and I was watching a movie called ‘The Crow’. I fell in love with that movie and I fell in love with the actor who died making the movie. A new whole world opened before me back then, a world of painted faces, sinister surroundings, sorrow, death and crows. The eerie whisper reminded me of who I was.

It stopped raining at 19.18. I was still looking outside my window thinking of the past, when I was startled by something moving in the darkness. I looked closer for it rested on my fence. A crow!

‘Did Brandon Lee send you?’ But its reply proved me wrong.

‘Nevermore,’ it spoke.

I immediately recognized the word. ‘I thought you were supposed to be a raven,’ I said amused but then I thought of its reply. ‘Nevermore?’ I repeated. ‘Are you referring to my memories? Nevermore? Never again?’

It studied me with its dark, morbid eyes and said nothing. ‘Will you take me away?’ I asked.

‘Nevermore,’ it replied.

‘We both know how this goes,’ I said. ‘Whatever I ask you, you will only reply the same.’ I thought of that poem about loss, memories, forgetting and wanting to remember it all…my memories…my past. Some memories hurt so much, I wish I could forget them but then…if I would then…then they would not have brought me to where I am today. I would not be the person I am today.

After a few hours I grew tired of the crow. There just so much ‘nevermore’ a woman can take. I eventually went to sleep, confused and afraid, thinking of my past, my memories, where had they all gone? Then, just after midnight, at 12.16 to be more accurate, I woke up. Something pulled me towards my window and I had to check if the crow was still there. I didn’t see a crow. I saw something much bigger. I saw a raven!

‘You?’ I asked. ‘Are you here to take me away? To show me my death?’ I asked anxiously remembering the poem again. But the raven replied and I realized this was an entirely different entity:

‘Should the Ravens ever leave the Tower of London, the White Tower will crumble and a great disaster will befall England’.

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘Who does not understand should either learn, or be silent,’ it replied.

I looked at the raven for a moment. Was it talking about my future? Was it giving me a choice?

‘I don’t want to be silent,’ I replied. ‘I will not be silent! I want to learn and I want to see so much more in this life.’ And it was true, despite my dark childhood, despite my grey present, I wanted my future to be white, white and not black! And so this December, no matter how rainy it will get in the lovely Netherlands, my Christmas will be white…well white…and a little black…with a few drops of red in it…

I wish every one of you a peaceful and warm Christmas, whether you love Christmas or not, no matter what memories you cherish and no matter what ghosts haunted you and may haunt you still on Christmas Eve. Wherever and however Christmas may find you, just drink…’Drink and be Merry!’

 

By Niguanta, of Romania.
www.niguanta.com

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 25th, 2014 in Uncategorized.