Callen Waits for Silver — Every evening before the winter market opened, Callen polished the little silver bell with a square of flannel until his fingers smelled like metal and cinnamon. Read the full story →
Every evening before the winter market opened, Callen polished the little silver bell with a square of flannel until his fingers smelled like metal and cinnamon. He wanted to hear it ring clear, the way his mother said it had rung when the first frostlight cake woke. But the bell only gave a soft clink, clink, clink.
Then, one snowy morning, the baker set the Christmas cake on its tall stand and forgot the holly crown. Because of that, Callen climbed the cold ladder to place each leaf and berry himself. Because of that, he saw the bell’s reflection tremble in the sugar ornaments, as if it were waiting too. “Not yet,” he whispered, though the market doors boomed open below.
At last, when the last child stopped rushing and simply looked, Callen touched the bell once. Its note floated thin and silver, and every sprinkle shone like a quiet star. If you find the tiny ornaments around the holly, you may know why Callen kept polishing through all those clink, clink, clinks.
