Here is a little excerpt from my book,
The Christmas Village. Over the next few weeks, I'll post snippets of it, so come back and check. The book, and its sequel
Return to Canterbury, are available from Amazon in paperback and Kindle.
And, just fyi, the book is not just for kids - it's for
US too.
Enjoy!
Excerpt from
The Christmas Village by Melissa Ann Goodwin
Grandpa held a cup
of steaming coffee in one hand and a biscuit in the other. A plate of butter
and an open jar of strawberry jam sat on the table in front of him. “C’mon over
here and join me in one of Granny’s buttermilk biscuits,” he said, pulling a
chair away from the table. “These things just melt in your mouth.”
“Wait, Bart,” said
Grandma, “there’s something I want to show Jamie first.” She took Jamie’s hand
and led him down the hall. “I finished that secret project I was working on
this morning.” They stopped in front of the living room doors. “Now close your
eyes,” Grandma ordered.
Jamie obeyed. He
heard the doors creak open.
“Okay, now you can
look.”
The sweet scent of
pine floated on the air. A fire roared in the magnificent stone hearth and
threw its heat across the room. The mantel was decorated with evergreens and holly.
A ten-foot-tall Christmas tree shimmered with tinsel, sparkling glass ornaments
and twinkling white lights.
“It’s beautiful, Grandma.”
“Now over here is the piece de resistance,” said Grandma, leading him across the room.
“What does that
mean?”
“It’s a French
expression that means, the Star of the Show, the Belle of the Ball, the . . .
the . . . the Main Attraction!”
Grandma’s Main Attraction
was a village of miniature porcelain cottages nestled in a blanket of
cotton-batting snow on top of a long table. Perched on a knoll overlooking the
village was a white church. Below the church stood a regal pine tree. A group
of carolers gathered in a half-circle beneath the tree, their heads thrown back
and their mouths open in O’s of song.
A sign on a brick
building read Canterbury
Town Hall and another
read Canterbury Post Office. Aunt Polly’s Kitchen and The Canterbury Savings
Bank rounded out Main Street, which was lined with streetlamps decorated with
red bows. A statue of a soldier stood in the town square. Scattered about the village
were other buildings: Miss Ida’s Boarding
House, Vanderzee’s Welding & Ironworks and the Canterbury General Store.
On a hill at the outskirts
of the village, a blue Victorian mansion with gables and two chimneys
overlooked a cluster of cozy cottages. At the very center of the village was a
glass pond on which two figures, a boy and girl, skated. Though they were tiny
– less than two inches tall – Jamie could make out every detail of their
clothing. The girl wore a red coat with matching hat, a white scarf and gloves,
red and white striped stockings and white skates. The boy wore a blue jacket
with gold buttons, gray pants and hat, and a blue striped scarf and mittens. In
a clearing near the pond, a black Scottish terrier with a red plaid bow around
its neck sniffed at a snowman that sported a black top hat and a bright orange
scarf with a large black “P” on one end.
Jamie put his arm around Grandma's ample hips. "You're right, Grandma. This is definitely a Piece of Resistance."
They admired the
village in silence, the snapping of the wood fire and the ticking of the
grandfather clock the only sounds in the room. Then Grandma squeezed Jamie’s
shoulder and said, “Let’s go have our dinner, shall we?”
Later that
evening, Jamie wandered into the living room for a last look before bed.
Crimson embers glowed in the hearth. Grandpa snored loudly but peacefully in
his chair. Jamie tiptoed past him to peer at the Christmas Village. He imagined
the skaters trudging home, their skates thrown over their shoulders and their
cheeks rosy from wind and cold. He pictured the banker closing up for the night
and the welders returning to their cozy cottages after a long day at work. He imagined
a choir practicing in the church and happy families eating pot roast and
biscuits smothered with honey in front of warm fireplaces.
Jamie imagined how
perfect life would be in a perfect little village like Canterbury. His heart
ached to live in such a place, where nothing ever changed. “I wish I could live
in Canterbury,” he whispered. Then he tiptoed past his snoring grandpa and
quietly closed the doors behind him.
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