The Chimes at Midnight
Created | Updated May 31, 2007
Rain beat against the window pain that dark night. Craig Paull lay recumbent on the sofa, he drifted in and out of consciousness. On the arm sat an almost empty glass of Irish Whisky. He was comfortable and warm. The television was on, the light form it danced all around the room, mixing and merging with the twinkling lights on the Christmas Tree.
This year he wasn’t going to be bothering with many decorations, but hr thought it would be beneficial to keep the old traditions alive to a curtain extent.
Craig was finding it difficult to remain conscious, though he did not want to move, here he was warm, bed would be cold.
The effect of lunchtimes lager had had more then an effect on his continuity now and now at this late hour he was beginning to flag somewhat.
Christmas was the worst time for those living alone, he knew that. He had considered going away for the festive period, but then decided against it.
A lump came to his throat as he remembered only one short year before, two sacks of toys sat in front of the fireplace just their before him, coloured gift wrapped boxes peeking out of the tops. His wife had already gone to bed and he was watching the Ghost Story for Christmas session on one of the many BBC channels.
Then his world had been torn in two when the car carrying his
immediate family had run off the road following a blown out tier. The fire that ensued killed them all.
Less then a year ago, but it all seemed like a dream now, a dream he could not awake from. Was he asleep now or awake? He didn’t know exactly.
This years re run ghost story was ‘The Signalman’, Dickens great classic, and his favourite. He just managed to find the remote and turn over the channel for the late ‘Carry On’ film which would inevitably be on the TV in the small hours of that Christmas morning.
The channel changed he could now relax again. Finding the arm outline on the sofa again he watched through narrow eyes.
Warm, comfortable, happy?
The voice from the TV announced, “and now we go over to Liverpool Cathedral for Midnight Ma…” he heard nothing more.
When he opened his eyes again a feeling of confusion swept over him. Where was he? What time was it?
The room looked different, the decorations he hadn’t put up were now hanging up. He must have put them up after all. Something was different, he could not quite put his finger on it though. The TV was still on, now showing children’s programs. His eyes panned around to the clock on the wall. His eyes strained as he tried to focus on the time piece.
Vision was blurred somewhat, but he could see a red light shining through from the kitchen, the oven was on. Why had the oven come on? Slowly he swung his stiff legs around off the sofa and onto the floor.
He rubbed his eyes and focused again on the clock. One thing was for sure, he’d missed the Carry On film.
“Oh no, six o’clock.” Six in the morning on Christmas day, he was cold, mouth dry.
His sock covered left foot could feel something. Whatever it was soft. Slowly he looked down toward his feet, through his half open eyes he could see two sacks full of brightly wrapped presents, just like…
Before his mind could register he heard a noise, the sound was a door closing. A look of shock came to his confused facial expression as the living room door opened and his two children ran into the room, followed slowly by his wife.
All were dressed in their dressing gowns and all whore a smile on the faces.
“You soft thing,” said the women looking down on him. The soft voice of his wife was like a gentle caress on his soul, it was something he thought he would never hear again.
“What, sorry I…”
“Don’t worry,” she said, “I told you I’d do the veggies today. You didn’t have to stay up all night doing them.”
He tried so hard to remember the previous evening. He couldn’t recall peeling or chopping any vegetables, he couldn’t remember anything apart from the pub at lunch time then watching Carols from Kings at around 3pm. Was the memory of that yesterday gone or was it the last year as he recall it, was all that a dream? Surely now, in the here and now it must have been.
“I’ll put the coffee on,” she said opening the door which lead to the kitchen. The slightest num of the oven could be heard, it had switched itself on, ready no doubt for the dinner to be cooked.
The children had already set about the presents assembled in their relevant sacks, several now were already open. Wrapping paper now lay stroon across the floor.
The women returned from the kitchen two cups of coffee in her hands one of which she passed over to her husband. Sitting on the arm of the sofa her hand on Craig’s right shoulder and watched the two exited children opening their presents. Craig felt the hand touch him and rejoiced in the feeling, all was well again.
He took a sip of his coffee, it was too hot to drink. “Happy Christmas Dear,” she said handing him a small wrapped box.
Still in a state of shock he unwrapped the gift. Under the paper was a box. He took off the lid and peered inside.
“It’s to replace the one that got broken.” said a soft voice in his ear.
In the box was a brass compass engraved under the lid with the words, ‘love from Amanda, Rebecca and Joseph’
The children were already playing with their new toys, Amanda had drifted off now into the kitchen again. On the TV the children’s programs had finished and the voice was announcing the programs for the rest of that day.
Presents, what had he bought for his wife? He must have bought something, where was it? What was it? Frantically his head turned through so many memories or at least the lack of them. What had he bought her?
Craig stared at the children playing on the floor. Christmas had always had an unmistakable small in his mind. That smell was plastic. When the plastic packaging which invertible comes around all manner of toys has a smell all of its own when removed. Why was that? He could not say, but it had. That smell was as integral to the season as the aroma of pine needles and roasting turkey.
Taking another sip of his coffee he became aware of a lump in his dressing gown pocket. Putting in his hand he pulled out a small box. The box was gift wrapped and label. The label was marked with his Amanda’s’ name. moments later he stood framed in the kitchen doorway.
Dotted around the worktops were various bowls of water covered chopped vegetables, enough to feed an army. “What time did you finish doing this lot last night?”
Nothing would have pleased him more then to have an answer for the question, but he couldn’t. instead he handed her the box found in his pocket, “Happy Christmas.” he said to her.
“Thank you.” She replied taking off the wrapping paper in the neat and organised fashion as she always did. Beneath the paper lay a felt covered jewellery box. Slowly her fingers opened it revealing a necklace, the pendant containing a single diamond.
His heart settled into a rhythmic beat once again, he was so glad she liked it and even more thankful that there had been something in it.
After a kiss on the cheek she sent him back into the living room where he sat back down and watched his two offspring playing.
The late night was catching up with him now and he could feel his eye lids slowly becoming heavier and heavier.
“and now on this Christmas morning,” the continuity announcer said, telling the TV viewing world the next morning, “we go over to St Paul’s for…”
His eyes closed, but he could still hear the TV, “… for Midnight Mass.”
What? Midnight, midnight was... he forced open his eyes…
The room was dark, the smell of plastic no longer filled the room, the hum of the oven was gone. The cup of coffee which occupied the arm of the settee next to him was also gone, replaced by a tumbler of whisky.
The light from the TV scene mixed with the winking tree lights. The clock on the wall betrayed the reality of the time, midnight.
His heart sank, had it all been a dream? He felt awful. Downing the remainder of the whisky he decided that the time had come to go to bed. As his foot felt around the floor for his slipper it found something else. Whatever it was, it was hard and cold. Looking down he struggled to focus on the small round object.
Craig reached down to pick the object up, but suddenly stopped. Something was stopping him, was it fear.
At his feet lay a brass compass. It was shaking hand that picked it up, dare he look inside under the lid?
The case opened with a click. Inside were inscribed the words, ‘Love from Amanda, Rebecca and Joseph.’
This year he wasn’t going to be bothering with many decorations, but hr thought it would be beneficial to keep the old traditions alive to a curtain extent.
Craig was finding it difficult to remain conscious, though he did not want to move, here he was warm, bed would be cold.
The effect of lunchtimes lager had had more then an effect on his continuity now and now at this late hour he was beginning to flag somewhat.
Christmas was the worst time for those living alone, he knew that. He had considered going away for the festive period, but then decided against it.
A lump came to his throat as he remembered only one short year before, two sacks of toys sat in front of the fireplace just their before him, coloured gift wrapped boxes peeking out of the tops. His wife had already gone to bed and he was watching the Ghost Story for Christmas session on one of the many BBC channels.
Then his world had been torn in two when the car carrying his
immediate family had run off the road following a blown out tier. The fire that ensued killed them all.
Less then a year ago, but it all seemed like a dream now, a dream he could not awake from. Was he asleep now or awake? He didn’t know exactly.
This years re run ghost story was ‘The Signalman’, Dickens great classic, and his favourite. He just managed to find the remote and turn over the channel for the late ‘Carry On’ film which would inevitably be on the TV in the small hours of that Christmas morning.
The channel changed he could now relax again. Finding the arm outline on the sofa again he watched through narrow eyes.
Warm, comfortable, happy?
The voice from the TV announced, “and now we go over to Liverpool Cathedral for Midnight Ma…” he heard nothing more.
When he opened his eyes again a feeling of confusion swept over him. Where was he? What time was it?
The room looked different, the decorations he hadn’t put up were now hanging up. He must have put them up after all. Something was different, he could not quite put his finger on it though. The TV was still on, now showing children’s programs. His eyes panned around to the clock on the wall. His eyes strained as he tried to focus on the time piece.
Vision was blurred somewhat, but he could see a red light shining through from the kitchen, the oven was on. Why had the oven come on? Slowly he swung his stiff legs around off the sofa and onto the floor.
He rubbed his eyes and focused again on the clock. One thing was for sure, he’d missed the Carry On film.
“Oh no, six o’clock.” Six in the morning on Christmas day, he was cold, mouth dry.
His sock covered left foot could feel something. Whatever it was soft. Slowly he looked down toward his feet, through his half open eyes he could see two sacks full of brightly wrapped presents, just like…
Before his mind could register he heard a noise, the sound was a door closing. A look of shock came to his confused facial expression as the living room door opened and his two children ran into the room, followed slowly by his wife.
All were dressed in their dressing gowns and all whore a smile on the faces.
“You soft thing,” said the women looking down on him. The soft voice of his wife was like a gentle caress on his soul, it was something he thought he would never hear again.
“What, sorry I…”
“Don’t worry,” she said, “I told you I’d do the veggies today. You didn’t have to stay up all night doing them.”
He tried so hard to remember the previous evening. He couldn’t recall peeling or chopping any vegetables, he couldn’t remember anything apart from the pub at lunch time then watching Carols from Kings at around 3pm. Was the memory of that yesterday gone or was it the last year as he recall it, was all that a dream? Surely now, in the here and now it must have been.
“I’ll put the coffee on,” she said opening the door which lead to the kitchen. The slightest num of the oven could be heard, it had switched itself on, ready no doubt for the dinner to be cooked.
The children had already set about the presents assembled in their relevant sacks, several now were already open. Wrapping paper now lay stroon across the floor.
The women returned from the kitchen two cups of coffee in her hands one of which she passed over to her husband. Sitting on the arm of the sofa her hand on Craig’s right shoulder and watched the two exited children opening their presents. Craig felt the hand touch him and rejoiced in the feeling, all was well again.
He took a sip of his coffee, it was too hot to drink. “Happy Christmas Dear,” she said handing him a small wrapped box.
Still in a state of shock he unwrapped the gift. Under the paper was a box. He took off the lid and peered inside.
“It’s to replace the one that got broken.” said a soft voice in his ear.
In the box was a brass compass engraved under the lid with the words, ‘love from Amanda, Rebecca and Joseph’
The children were already playing with their new toys, Amanda had drifted off now into the kitchen again. On the TV the children’s programs had finished and the voice was announcing the programs for the rest of that day.
Presents, what had he bought for his wife? He must have bought something, where was it? What was it? Frantically his head turned through so many memories or at least the lack of them. What had he bought her?
Craig stared at the children playing on the floor. Christmas had always had an unmistakable small in his mind. That smell was plastic. When the plastic packaging which invertible comes around all manner of toys has a smell all of its own when removed. Why was that? He could not say, but it had. That smell was as integral to the season as the aroma of pine needles and roasting turkey.
Taking another sip of his coffee he became aware of a lump in his dressing gown pocket. Putting in his hand he pulled out a small box. The box was gift wrapped and label. The label was marked with his Amanda’s’ name. moments later he stood framed in the kitchen doorway.
Dotted around the worktops were various bowls of water covered chopped vegetables, enough to feed an army. “What time did you finish doing this lot last night?”
Nothing would have pleased him more then to have an answer for the question, but he couldn’t. instead he handed her the box found in his pocket, “Happy Christmas.” he said to her.
“Thank you.” She replied taking off the wrapping paper in the neat and organised fashion as she always did. Beneath the paper lay a felt covered jewellery box. Slowly her fingers opened it revealing a necklace, the pendant containing a single diamond.
His heart settled into a rhythmic beat once again, he was so glad she liked it and even more thankful that there had been something in it.
After a kiss on the cheek she sent him back into the living room where he sat back down and watched his two offspring playing.
The late night was catching up with him now and he could feel his eye lids slowly becoming heavier and heavier.
“and now on this Christmas morning,” the continuity announcer said, telling the TV viewing world the next morning, “we go over to St Paul’s for…”
His eyes closed, but he could still hear the TV, “… for Midnight Mass.”
What? Midnight, midnight was... he forced open his eyes…
The room was dark, the smell of plastic no longer filled the room, the hum of the oven was gone. The cup of coffee which occupied the arm of the settee next to him was also gone, replaced by a tumbler of whisky.
The light from the TV scene mixed with the winking tree lights. The clock on the wall betrayed the reality of the time, midnight.
His heart sank, had it all been a dream? He felt awful. Downing the remainder of the whisky he decided that the time had come to go to bed. As his foot felt around the floor for his slipper it found something else. Whatever it was, it was hard and cold. Looking down he struggled to focus on the small round object.
Craig reached down to pick the object up, but suddenly stopped. Something was stopping him, was it fear.
At his feet lay a brass compass. It was shaking hand that picked it up, dare he look inside under the lid?
The case opened with a click. Inside were inscribed the words, ‘Love from Amanda, Rebecca and Joseph.’
