So, here we are, continuing the recent trend of coming back to posts about Winter holidays 6 months out of season.
Happy New Year, everybody.
In, uh, almost-June…
Photo by Polina Tankilevitch on Pexels.com
Though it’s fitting in a way, given that we’re previewing The Alchemist of Middlesbrooke this week.
Copyright
J.B. Norman
“Ugh,” Lucia groans from under the blanket she’s hidden herself beneath. “New Year’s Eve is the worst!”
“But you’re missing the fireworks,” Roland protests. “Miss Celeste worked really hard to make them this year.”
“And I helped!” Alda says proudly.
“I’m. a. cat,” Lucia notes from the safety of her blanket. “I hate fireworks. Big noises and —”
BOOM!
Lucia yowls in distress and cowers under her blanket.
“Would you like a New Year’s shrimp?” Petra says, proffering a traditional Middlesbrookian holiday shrimp from her plate.
Lucia’s hand emerges from under her blanket and blindly feels around for the shrimp.
“Wow,” Roland says, staring out the window at the fireworks. “That was a cool one.”
BOOM!
“Ooh,” the other says, enraptured by the pyrotechnic display and Celeste’s judicious application of Skremmler’s Combustible Powder.
BOOM!
“Aahh.”
“Oh, sure,” Lucia mutters from under her blanket. “Let’s all ignore our friend being traumatised for life and stare at the bright lights and big noises. Thanks a lot, guys.”
Elisa, the little girl that Lucia, Apolline, and Petra often babysit wanders over to where Lucia is sequestered under the safety of her blanket and consolingly pats Lucia’s head through the blanket.
“Still love you, Cia,” she assures Lucia.
BOOM! BOOM!
Lucia takes a deep, unsteady breath to keep herself from shrieking with terror.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOM!
“Well,” she says. “That was —
BOOMBOOMBOOM! BOOM!
BOOMBOOMBOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOM! BOOMBOOMBOOM!
“Apolline!” Lucia cries. “Save me!”
“It’s okay, Lucia,” Roland says. “That was probably the last —”
BOOMBOOMBOOM!
“Okay, well. That was probably the end.”
… boom.
“Finally,” Lucia says.
“Which means,” Roland continues, “it’s just about midnight.”
He points expectantly towards the window.
“Right about now.”
He is met with only silence.
He flicks his wrist.
“Now.”
He is met with only silence.
He flicks his wrist.
“Now.”
As one, all the bells of Middlesbrooke begin to peal, greeting the arrival of the new year.
“See?” Roland says with a satisfied smile on his face. “Right on cue.”
Lucia decides to look on the bright side.
“Well, at least the bells aren’t as —”
Suddenly, the door is shoved open and Agricola sticks his head into the room. The Ducal family of Middlesbrooke’s eyepatch-wearing Elven valet also sticks his arm into the room and begins vigorously ringing a handbell.
“The Duke and Duchess wish me to pass along their sincerest wishes that you have a happy new year,” he says. “To that end, Happy New Year, all.”
“Happy New Year, Alda!” Roland says to his sister.
“Happy New Year, Roland!” Alda says to his sister.
Lucia speaks up from under her blanket, “Happy New Year, Apolline, Petra, Elisa, and Alda.”
“Ahem,” Roland says.
“And Roland, too, I guess,” Lucia murmurs.
“Happy New Year,” Apolline says. “May all your—”
She trails off as she notices something is missing.
She looks around.
“Oh my,” she mutters. “Where’s Elisa gone? Has anyone seen her?”
“Gah!” Lucia cries suddenly, flailing wildly under the blanket.
“Happy New Ears, Cia!” a second voice calls from underneath Lucia’s blanket.
“Yeah,” Lucia mutters. “I’ve got her.”
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