Anna Desnitskaya
Christmas angel
It was night. Snow fell quietly to the ground in soft flakes. However
and, despite the late hour, there was light in almost all the windows. B
what's the matter? Let's take a look at one of them. It is brighter and bigger than everyone else. We
we can see into it a large hall. In the middle of it stands a huge
table Guests are sitting around. A nice woman approaches one of the
them, then to another. This is the hostess. There is a Christmas tree next to the table,
bending under the weight of toys hung on her. Beneath her
two little girls dressed up as angels are sitting. They
play with dolls. Now comes Christmas and they will get new ones.
Here's another window. If you look there, you can see the room,
everything seems to breathe home comfort and happiness. For a little
A man and a woman are sitting at a table covered with a white tablecloth.
The man is elderly, and his beard is streaked with gray. He picks up
glass and makes a toast. We can't hear him, but because
how the woman smiled and how he kissed her forehead, you can
guess that the toast was dedicated to her. Ten year old boy
the one sitting between them laughs loudly. He's happy - it's
the first Christmas he celebrates with adults.
And this window does not light up. Have his owners forgotten about
holiday? Let's see what's going on there. Onsmall crib
on the eve of the Christmas miracle, a charming girl sleeps with
golden curls and eyes, which are usually depicted as angels
on postcards. On the other bed sits a boy, extremely
similar to his sister. He's waiting for Christmas to come. But the dream
closes his eyelids and the boy decides that he will only sleep for half an hour,
puts his head on the pillow and falls asleep until the morning.
It seems that every window radiates holiday happiness and
contentment. Only one of them seems black and white, carrying
only grief for myself. What's there? Let's take a look. Sits by the window
woman with a haggard face. She prints an article in antediluvian
typewriter. She wants to sleep, but if tomorrow she doesn't
brings an article to the editor, she won’t be given money, but the baby needs
medicine. Behind there is a bed, on which remains of the former are visible
luxury. But the wooden curls have long fallen off, and one leg
broken and somehow glued together. A little girl is lying on the bed.
She's sick. Her eyes are closed, she is sleeping, but it seems that she
dead, her cheeks are so pale, she is so somehow
unearthly, not belonging to this world. But the girl wakes up.
Her lips whisper: “Mom, mom!” Mother approaches her. "Mom, I
“I’m thirsty,” the little girl says with difficulty, licking the dry
lips. “Now, honey,” says the mother, approaches the table,
which has a tin jug withwater, pours it into a mug and
gives it to the girl. She drinks greedily and drops it on the floor. "Mom, honey, I
Shall I sleep?" - she asks. "Of course, of course." "Will you sing to me? About
little fox? “I’ll sing,” says the mother and sings, looking tenderly at her daughter:
"The little fox is lost,
He ran away from his mother
The little fox got lost
He didn't know the way..."
The girl slowly falls asleep to the pleasant sounds of her voice. And
the woman herself is so tired that she drops her head in her hands and immerses herself
in deep sleep, leaning against the bed.
Morning is slowly creeping up. The baby wakes up. She doesn't
wakes up her mother, because the girl knows how tired her mother is. She looks in
window and suddenly sees how he does not fly into it, no, but as if he enters
some kind of creature. He is in a white robe, his entire figure
wrapped like a cloak in golden hair radiating radiance. Eyes
his hair is light, almost white, slightly greenish. They are joyful
but shrouded in a haze of sadness.
-You're a Christmas angel, right? Did you bring me gifts? -
says the girl.
- No, I didn't bring any gifts. But I'll take you with me, -
answers the angel.
- And mom?
“She will come to us later,” says the angel, “but get up!”
- I can’t, I’m sick.
“Not anymore,” says the angel, takes her in his arms and they
fly up, up, where it is picked up by hundreds of others like them
angels.
Morning has come.The first morning light woke up the woman. She
raised her head and looked at her daughter.
-Are you feeling better? - he asked the baby, touching her hand.
But she was cold as ice. The girl died. Her whole figure
as if carved from light pink marble, it breathed like this
peace and tranquility that the mother did not even cry. She
she just dropped her head into her hands with a loud groan.
At about twelve o'clock a neighbor came to see her. She found
poor woman dead. The Christmas angel held his own
word.
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