twirling between shards of moonlight,
Never wanting to stop.

I ran and ran. Cold air invading my lungs as I pushed myself to run as fast as my feet could take me. I only had an hour to get there and back. I could make it to the town’s centre in ten minutes if I ran. That would give me forty minutes. Then I would have to run back home again. It was not much time, but for the past few years it had been enough. It was all I had after all. It had to be enough.

I paused a few times, attempting to catch my breath and shake the snow from the bottom of the boots. I did not want to stop, but the streets were long and winding, and I was only very little.

I ran until the clock tower was in front of me. With ragged breath I looked upwards, checking it for the time. It was eleven minutes into the hour. I collapsed onto my knees. The snow was not very deep, but it was deep enough that I did not hurt myself when I fell. My dress was thick, but it was not thick enough to withstand the cold for too long. I should have brought my scarf or a coat, but for now I was warm from exertion, and too excited for the celebrations to care about the cold.

My breath was a twisting trail of mist as I stared in awe at the decorations. All of the usual marketplace carts were pushed back, towards the buildings that circled the town square. Some of them had banners on them, wishing readers a Blessed and Delightful New Year. There were red and white balloons tied up to the lamp posts and balloons of various colours tied to chairs that were dotted around the place, though in dim light it was hard to tell the colours apart.

Every year the decorations seemed to get more and more extravagant. I wonder where they got all of the banners and balloons from. Were they bought over from Undern? Or maybe even from Morwen.  

When my breathing steadied, and the snow was off my boots, I began my own New Year celebrations.

Close to the clock tower was an gramophone. They brought it out every year to stand in the same spot. I liked to think of it as the ‘guest of honour’. It was old and the paint on it was very chipped, but it still did the job it was made to do.  I walked to it and wound it up. A bright happy tune flooded the frosty air. I smiled and began to dance around. I did not know the song, but that did not matter. Mother had taught me a short dance once, a long time ago. I danced the steps to that over and over again. I happily swirled and twirled around. Laughing, and watching my breath trail about in the air as I spun. Bathed in twilight, I danced and dance, forgetting all my worries, forgetting who I was. Then at the song’s end, I bowed to my captive sleeping audience.

Next, I went to the large long table that was in the middle of the square. On it was a wondrous spread of different kinds of food. My mouth watered looking at it all. After a moment to say grace, I stuffed my face.

My mother’s food was delicious, and I loved having it every day, but there was something about the New Year’s party food that I really enjoyed. I did not know who made it, but I was always grateful that they did.

I was careful not to step on any of the sleeping bodies around me as I picked and sampled the various treats from the table. Treacle tarts, piles of chocolate drizzled cookies and apple puddings, they made my mouth water even more as I gulped each of them down. Everything tasted so delicious. Then I wondered to the other side of the table and drunk something sweet and fizzy from a little cup. It tasted a bit like strawberries.

I was happily sipping away when I noticed something moving from the corner of my eye.

At first I was stunned in disbelief. No one should be conscious. Nothing should be moving. I quickly spun around and saw a boy.

A boy that was very much awake.