In the corner of the room stood a decorated Christmas tree, its fairy lights flickering in their own playful rhythm.
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When everyone in the house had gathered for the festive supper and the room grew quiet, the lights stopped blinking to give themselves a little rest. Beneath the tree lay the presents. How they had got there, only they and the tree itself knew. Together they enjoyed the precious time of being side by side, in the magical silence before the storm of joy. The moment just before the excited children would rush into the room.
The tree adored this moment. That is, until the presents began quarrelling among themselves. They did it every Christmas. The tree would scold them in vain, reminding them that these were supposed to be days of joy – above all, of peace. Yet beneath its branches, the very opposite was happening. Bickering, boasting, and endless comparisons. Always the same. They argued about which one was bigger, shinier, or wrapped with more ribbons.
Apart from them lay a lonely present, as though it did not belong. Just a plain box clad in festive red paper with white snowflakes. Except that both the paper and the box were torn in one spot. From that tear a circle of bright light shone upon the carpet. The tree noticed it, and so did the other presents. Out of the circle emerged a tiny figure – radiant, like a little person woven from a thousand sparks of light. Its movements were like the dance of a candle flame, each one leaving a shower of sparks behind. “My name is Surprise,” the being introduced itself. The presents rustled with their wrappings in astonishment. At last they had met what children always long for at Christmas.
The being said nothing more but leapt onto the window ledge, then onto the tree, leaving behind a glowing trail that slowly faded. It swayed a few baubles and darted out of the room beneath the door, into the kitchen where the family were still sitting at their festive table. Surprise knocked a fork from the table and blew out a candle. The adults thought it was a draft but the children knew – it meant the presents were coming.
Surprise continued its journey. It passed through a pantry full of food, slipped out of a half-open window, and onto the balcony wall. There lay a heap of presents. All were wrapped in black paper, gazing longingly through the glass at the tree where Surprise had just appeared. When it saw them, its glow dimmed and it grew sorrowful. These were the presents that had lost the gift of surprise. It encountered such gifts every year, yet never in such numbers. The children awaiting them had stopped believing. Either they had grown up, or they had lost hope that Christmas would bring any wonder. They were gifts for children whose deeds had clouded their chance for a gift. They were black because they had lost their magic – and empty inside.
But Christmas night is, after all, a night full of miracles. Surprise blew a sparkling kiss to the Moon, whose light reflected in the snow. The Moon returned the kiss, and it landed right on the street’s Christmas lights. The lights flared up and bathed the street in brilliance. Then another. And another. Soon the entire town glowed – even in places where no lights had ever been. Families left their festive tables and rushed outside to see what was shining through their windows. Of course, the eager and curious children ran first, and together they marvelled at the little miracle. Most amazed were those who had doubted, those who had never believed such a thing possible – and who now realised that Christmas truly brings something extraordinary. Some parents had tears in their eyes as they watched the pure joy reborn as their children started dancing in the shimmering lights.
The presents on the balcony were no longer black. Surprise blew upon them with all its might. One by one they dissolved into the air, only to reappear where faith in the Christmas miracle was slowly being reborn. And the world found its wonder again.192Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoiDycWqnCH
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