crunch. Not a single bird had begun its morning tune, and on top of it all, as daylight came, everyone could see for themselves that the world had turned red. When they looked at their own fair skin, it was another shock to their lives to see their skin was red.
Everyone local by nature ventured out of their houses. They were trying to understand what was happening, for everywhere they looked, they saw trees, the landscape, grass, even the sea water had taken on hues of red. No one had ever witnessed such an abnormal sunrise, struggling through the cover of misty cloud and haze of smoke coming from those fires in the inland bush, further south from Desperance. It was such an extraordinary kind of day. The cloudy-coloured sea was high and brought king tides several kilometres inland. Sea water lapped at the town edge. Waves pounded the flat lands. The broken clocks were compared and it was established that, for unknown reasons, all local time had stopped at precisely eleven minutes past midnight. And the wise around town said, This was interesting indeed .
No one remarked about the way the air smelt of putrid salt from the odour of stinking corpses washed off the stagnant floor of the ocean and dumped nilly pilly at their doorsteps. They were only interested in speaking about how lucky they were that the Christmas decorations in town had not been ruined. They regarded it as a very strange miracle to see that all the nativity pieces the Town Council had placed in every front yard for free, could and did survive the galing winds of Leda . She had given the whole town the heebie-jeebies just listening to her whistling her ghostly crying. But the relief was, she had not singled them out.
After a spot check was completed, the damage was regarded as minimal. At least a dozen plastic reindeer statues had been blown down South to kingdom come, while for some unknown reason, the brightly-coloured plastic Santas still sitting upright in sleighs had remained. What was even more noticeable to the drowsy-looking residents was that all the big puffs of cotton-wool snow that had adorned the tops of every fence post in town were hanging limp and sorry-looking. At first glance it looked as though the town had been dragged through a blizzard. However, all said and done, the entire population, the heart of which claimed to be very Christian-oriented, felt fortunate and humbled that the cyclone had not struck the town or any of its residents. They regarded their luck as a late Christmas present, in spite of everything else, from the invisible one called Almighty, and claimed He must have listened to all the feverishly whispered prayers that were said across town throughout the previous night.
But, before the prayers of thanksgiving could be sent to the Almighty for not causing a catastrophe, danger signals struck again. Word of another miracle began spreading like wildfire from the kids running up and down the muddy street with heart-stopping excitement. What? What? said the people who never listened. Listen! Please! These little kids! The children, full of natural innocence from the obsessive parental protection that was the most endearing thing about Desperance, were yelling out how Santa’s sleigh must have fallen out of the clouds in the storm. Parents yelled: Come back here you kids!
One youngster who stopped to speak, said : ‘He is coming, so all you people you better come quick and have a look at Santa Claus, because he is walking if you please from the sea, coming straight towards Desperance.’ Christmas was too much . High time to be getting over Christmas – it makes parents go mad. Next, a galloping pantomime of people began running through the mud with arms flying, chasing one another, and going after those naughty kids to get them to come back.
The truth was that the town’s locals had flocked down, in droves mind you, to watch the stranger who had long white hair and beard, walking in the sea. As they stood together on
Everyone local by nature ventured out of their houses. They were trying to understand what was happening, for everywhere they looked, they saw trees, the landscape, grass, even the sea water had taken on hues of red. No one had ever witnessed such an abnormal sunrise, struggling through the cover of misty cloud and haze of smoke coming from those fires in the inland bush, further south from Desperance. It was such an extraordinary kind of day. The cloudy-coloured sea was high and brought king tides several kilometres inland. Sea water lapped at the town edge. Waves pounded the flat lands. The broken clocks were compared and it was established that, for unknown reasons, all local time had stopped at precisely eleven minutes past midnight. And the wise around town said, This was interesting indeed .
No one remarked about the way the air smelt of putrid salt from the odour of stinking corpses washed off the stagnant floor of the ocean and dumped nilly pilly at their doorsteps. They were only interested in speaking about how lucky they were that the Christmas decorations in town had not been ruined. They regarded it as a very strange miracle to see that all the nativity pieces the Town Council had placed in every front yard for free, could and did survive the galing winds of Leda . She had given the whole town the heebie-jeebies just listening to her whistling her ghostly crying. But the relief was, she had not singled them out.
After a spot check was completed, the damage was regarded as minimal. At least a dozen plastic reindeer statues had been blown down South to kingdom come, while for some unknown reason, the brightly-coloured plastic Santas still sitting upright in sleighs had remained. What was even more noticeable to the drowsy-looking residents was that all the big puffs of cotton-wool snow that had adorned the tops of every fence post in town were hanging limp and sorry-looking. At first glance it looked as though the town had been dragged through a blizzard. However, all said and done, the entire population, the heart of which claimed to be very Christian-oriented, felt fortunate and humbled that the cyclone had not struck the town or any of its residents. They regarded their luck as a late Christmas present, in spite of everything else, from the invisible one called Almighty, and claimed He must have listened to all the feverishly whispered prayers that were said across town throughout the previous night.
But, before the prayers of thanksgiving could be sent to the Almighty for not causing a catastrophe, danger signals struck again. Word of another miracle began spreading like wildfire from the kids running up and down the muddy street with heart-stopping excitement. What? What? said the people who never listened. Listen! Please! These little kids! The children, full of natural innocence from the obsessive parental protection that was the most endearing thing about Desperance, were yelling out how Santa’s sleigh must have fallen out of the clouds in the storm. Parents yelled: Come back here you kids!
One youngster who stopped to speak, said : ‘He is coming, so all you people you better come quick and have a look at Santa Claus, because he is walking if you please from the sea, coming straight towards Desperance.’ Christmas was too much . High time to be getting over Christmas – it makes parents go mad. Next, a galloping pantomime of people began running through the mud with arms flying, chasing one another, and going after those naughty kids to get them to come back.
The truth was that the town’s locals had flocked down, in droves mind you, to watch the stranger who had long white hair and beard, walking in the sea. As they stood together on
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