It was late one December night. John, landlord of the Star Inn bid farewell to the last of his customers as they stepped out into the falling snow. Above the pub, shone the brightest star he’d ever seen.
He bolted the heavy oak door, settled the glowing remains of the fire, and extinguished the lights. As he began climbing the creaking stairs he heard loud banging on the locked door. Had someone had left something behind?
“I’m coming” called John.
Ankle-deep in the snow stood a young man, a terrified expression on his ashen face.
“My wife’s having a child,” he cried, “Our car got stuck in a snow-drift on the way to hospital. Can we come in? Will you help us? Please?
“Let’s fetch her,” said John. “I don’t have a spare room but it’s warm in the bar”.
John called nurse Ruth, who rushed to help. Minutes later a beautiful baby boy was born. They lay it in a log-basket for a crib.
Somehow news of the birth spread through the village. Several neighbours arrived carrying small gifts; a gold bracelet, scented candles and sweet-smelling flowers.
All that was several years ago. The village hasn’t changed, but something’s different. It feels like a place where something very special happened.
Thanks to Donna for hosting.
My story is vaguely based on the photo from figrock @ Morguefile!