Winter calls for those who seek it, 
Winter sings for those who listen.

Mother and I feasted for a week.

Mother was happy bustling about in our little kitchen. Our house was rather small, so the living room and the kitchen were really in the same room. We had a small bathroom behind the kitchen, and our two little bedrooms were to the left of the house. From the outside, the house looked a bit narrow, but on the inside it was cosy a house as any. And the fireplace was warm. There was nothing more I could have wanted.

Well, I did want a bit more light. The house was a bit dim. But I could not change that. There was hardly any moonlight or sunlight where we lived. But mother was fine with that. So I was too. She liked the house to be as dark as possible. “So nobody knows where we are,” she used to say. “We’ll be as quiet as mice, and this will be our little secret base.”

She used to say that, until she forgot about why she was hiding, if she really knew at all.

Mother was cooking an apple pie. The smell that emanated from the oven was wonderful. My mouth watered as I played with my little clay figures. I made them dance about as I waited patiently for pie.

Then suddenly, mother stopped and stared into the distance. Without warning, she dropped the bowl she was holding.

It shattered into many little pieces, scattering all around the house.

“Mother?” I cried out, panicked. She did not answer. I had seen this happen before. I dashed up and dragged her quickly to her chair so she would not faint onto the hard ground.

“Mother?” There was still no response. I stood still and made sure she was still breathing. She was. I sighed in relief. Then I began to pick up the little pieces on the ground.

After a moment, Mother started to whisper. “Roxy, what time is it?”

“Nearly five, mother,” I said, keeping my voice calm, still picking up the pieces. They were all over and it was hard where they were.

“Oh… I need to go to the market…” she mumbled.

“Not today mother,” I said. “Today is the New year. There will not be a market.”

“Oh… oh… the new year?” There was a moment of panic across her face, that was quickly replaced with confusion. “Oh yes… there’s something about the new year… it’s… how fun. There is a party, we could go too, there should be dancing and … yes, we should go.”

“Maybe later mother,” I responded gently. “I don’t think you are feeling too well. You nearly collapsed a moment ago. So, maybe later. Or even next year. There will always be another party.”

“I guess you are right Roxie,” mother said smiling weakly. “Oh dear, what ever happened?” she said looking at me picking up the pieces of the bowl. I had hoped to finish before she properly awoke.

“Nothing important mother, the bowl… broke, it can be replaced. Don’t worry,” I smiled. “I could always make us a new one.” I made all the utensils in the house out of clay.

“Oh, okay, okay, I’ll just… I think I’ll just… there’s something that I can’t remember…” she trailed off staring resolutely into the fire. “If I could only just remember… what is it? It will come to me I’m sure, it was so important… Oh do you smell that? The pie!” Mother said and jumped out of her chair, running to check on the pie.

I smiled to myself and finished tidying away the rest of the broken pieces of pottery.

Hours later mother went to sleep. I pretended to go to sleep too, but just lay in bed and listened for the faint noise of distant bells.

I waited for twelve rings. Then I heard it. Then the world went very still.

I got up and went to my mother’s room.

“Mother?” I said softly. She did not stir.

“Mother?” I said again louder. She still did not move. I shook her, and yet she did not rise from her slumber.

I tucked her in, putting the covers closer to herself, so she would not move about and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Sleep tight mother. I won’t be long. Do not worry.”

Then I went outside.

I felt a rush of breeze on my face. The air smelt like fresh cold snow. I looked at the clock. It was exactly midnight. One hour before darkness would rush in.

This was it. This was my one hour of freedom.

I left the house gleefully, kicking up clouds of snow as I ran through the sleeping town.