It's that time of the year again! Advent Calendar 2023 is back with a 3rd edition! With a collaboration between 20 profiles, we bring you a calendar that counts down to Christmas with various activities and challenges that keep you in the mood! Join...
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Bauble, Bauble, Toil, and Trouble
Despite loving a good ghost story, Noel Cranford was never very superstitious. So, when her grandmother warned her that breaking a bauble while decorating the tree was bad luck, she was quick to brush it off.
Of course, breaking anything expensive and rare was bad luck. Noel had grumbled internally, cleaning up the pieces of her favorite ornament from under the tree.
Before she dropped it, the bauble had perfectly portrayed the four ghosts from A Christmas Carol. To her, it's hand-crafted beauty was unparalleled by any other decoration... Now here she was, sweeping it's remnants into her hand. The silky-green glass was shattered so finely it looked like ghostly starlight, glowing under the blinking tree.
Noel's eyes dampened. Perfect. Just great. She thought,her heart sinking as she wrapped her fingers gently around the last piece. Pulling it out of the tree skirt, she winced when the sharp edge sliced into her pointer finger.
"Oh, now you've done it," Her grandmother clicked her tongue from the rocking chair, knitting with an eccentric smile on her face. "You can kiss your soul goodbye, Noel. You belong to that thing's spirit now."
"Grandma," Noel sighed, fishing out the piece more successfully this time with her other hand. "Not now, okay?"
As she left to toss the pieces away in the garbage, she heard her grandma snicker behind her. The old woman whispered, quite amusedly to herself, "Bauble, bauble, toil and trouble."
A painful bitterness sank in Noel's chest, and she found herself angry. She was frustrated with her grandmother for making jokes, with herself for dropping the one thing most precious to her, and with the universe for reminding her, in such a cruel way, why decorating for Christmas was such a difficult time.
Resentment forced her to the side of the kitchen and made her throw up the lid of the garbage can, "Whatever. It's just a stupid ornament."
But, looking in the black bag, then at the pieces one more time as they sat in her hand, she imagined them lying in the dump and fading day by day under a pile of rubbish. Her finger stung, but the sting of having to say goodbye was much worse.
She couldn't do it.
Instead, she set the pieces down on the kitchen table and grabbed some superglue from the cabinet. Sitting down, she began to sort the pieces back into the picture the best she could. However, as the hours ticked by, and the night darkened the kitchen beyond sight, she didn't find herself any closer to repairing the bauble. She did, however, find herself closer to a mental breakdown.
"This is so stupid. I hate this. I hate Christmas!" Leaning back in the chair, she closed her eyes and groaned. "And I suck at fixing things."
"Tell me about it." A deep voice rejoined her. "You've got me all wrong."
