"What child is this, who, lay to rest; on Mary's lap is sleeping......'' The soothing sound of a melodic voice could be heard echoing throughout the light blue nursery, as the carol was sweetly sung. A pale but pleasant faced woman sat mirthfully, rocking back and forth in a glossy wooden rocking chair, while holding a small child in her arms. She sang passively. Suddenly, the woman mysteriously stood up, placed the child in a crib and slowly walked away into a lucid golden light. Ross awoke in a cold sweat out of his daunting dream as the radiant sun shone through his bedroom window. A salty tear rippled down his cheek as he reminisced about the holidays when his mother was alive. He wiped his face clean as he then recalled the miserable years that would follow with his father, leading up to the time when he abandoned him four years ago.

His stomach tightened at the thought and he soon erased those unpleasant memories. Ross was a troubled teen, who had moved from foster home to foster home, never really getting along with his new families. He was always angry because of his unfortunate circumstances. He placed his bare feet on the cream coloured carpet as he then began to stretch. He put on his clothes, then headed downstairs smearing his hand along the rough wall surface. Upon entering the kitchen, he was greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, whose voices were cheerful. They were a sincere and kind-hearted couple who sympathised with Ross's situation and tried to support him. Ross refused the help and always pushed them away. "Aren't you going to eat something, Ross?'' Mrs.

Simmons asked softly. "I'm not hungry!'' Ross snapped, as he slammed the pantry door shut. Mr. Simmons sighed in annoyance and took a sip of his steaming coffee. The atmosphere was tense and filled with an uncanny silence.

"I'm getting out of here,'' Ross remarked showing his frustration, then stormed out of the house. Ross decided to take the bus to St. George's to meet up with his friends -- David, Smitty and Tackly. The three of them were trouble makers who had a very negative influence on Ross. They had planned to ride Tackly's brand new bike which they had been secretly working on for months. Upon entering the bus, he slowly strolled to the back and took a seat.

As he passed through Hamilton, the beautifully decorated shops captured his attention. The streets were teeming with busy shoppers all hoping to secure the best buys. The various lights were being hung from the building tops and as he passed the Crow Lane Bakery, the whisp of Christmas cooking tickled his nose. The bus bell rang and Ross hurried to the front to disembark at Slippery Hill. He could see his companions in the distance waiting anxiously near the white picket fence surrounding Tackly's house. As he approached the three, he could hear David ask in an insinuating tone, "So who's going first?'' "Since it's my bike, I think I should go first!'' Tackly announced proudly. As Tackly rolled the bike out, the other three stood in awe. Its red frame was buffed to a shine and seemed to sparkle under the beaming sunlight. Tackly slowly mounted the bike and started it with ease. "Like a charm!'' he exclaimed loudly over the resonant sound of the bike's motor. He began to ride up and down the hill, faster and faster each time. The others were filled with excitement and Ross could hardly wait for his turn. At last it was Ross's turn, and allowing his egotistical side to get the better of him, he refused his helmet and mounted the bike. The mere start of the bike gave him a tremendous thrill and soon he was on his way. The cool December air blew wildly through his hair and seemed to sting his face, as he raced the strip.

He could hear the cheers of his friends behind him and this seemed to motivate him more. However, before he could slow down or realise he had to put on the brakes, he hit a speed bump which sent him soaring over the front of the bike.

There Ross lay in a pool of blood in the middle of the road. His body appeared lifeless. "Ross, Ross,'' a soft voice beckoned. Ross slowly opened his eyes and despite his obvious condition, he felt no pain. He stood and gazed at his surroundings. They were of the familiar Slippery Hill, however, no-one was to be seen. Ross then heard his name being called again and walked in the direction it seemed to be coming from. Finally, after it appeared he had walked for miles, a bright light came into view. Just as he stepped closer towards the light, a woman walked out of the yellow glare. She had long curls as golden as the sun's rays and her white garment flowed as it was blown in the soft wind. Ross immediately recognised this woman as his mother and he ran towards her open arms. Ross felt warm and safe in her embrace and longed for the moment to last forever. "Am I dead, mother?'' Ross asked, breaking the silence. "No, and you won't die, at least not this time,'' she answered.

"I'm not at all pleased with you and I'll show you why,'' his mother continued. A light cloud of fog appeared just below Ross's waist. His mother cleared the fog and there before his eyes, he witnessed the recollection of all his bad doings. Although the chain of events was appalling, Ross relieved his conscience by admitting aloud, that no-one cared. "The Simmons' do!'' his mother responded with frustration. Ross looked down, and there they were as clear as day, Mr. and Mrs. Simmons. They were quietly weeping in what appeared to be a hospital. "Why are they crying?'' Ross asked her, bewildered.

"You've been in an accident and they don't think you're going to make it.

Does this fit the description of non-caring parents?'' she asked sharply.

Ross's throat tightened as the words spoken were all so true. She then revealed to him the Christmas of 2005. The future was even more dismal than the past. There he sat in a filthy alley-way, having the hungry rats for company. In his grasp he held a bottle of liquor and was cursing the passing carollers. He had become a homeless, thieving alcoholic and, worst of all, now he really had no-one who cared. Ross was speechless and realised that he needed to change his ways in order not to become the repulsive man that had flashed before him. "It's all up to you now. I'm here to provide you with a second chance. You can't continue to blame everyone in life for your misfortunes,'' his mother lectured. "I'll always be there for you, no matter what,'' she continued in a comforting voice. Ross then knew what he had to do and was anxious to rebuild his new personality. The future looked promising to him and he was going to make every minute count. A soft voice broke his concentration and he listened to the familiar song....'' What child is this, who, lay to rest on Mary's lap is sleeping....'' He then focused on his mother drifting back into the bright light, waving, as he had seen in the dream.

"Ross, Ross, can you hear us?'' the Simmons' asked in desperation. He opened his eyes with great effort, the words of his mother still lingering in his mind. He was in a hospital room. "Yes, I can hear you and I'm glad you're here,'' he responded in a weak voice. "Santa hasn't been yet, has he?'' he asked in a sneaky tone. The Simmons' chuckled, as they knew he was going to be all right. Ross felt a sense of warmness in his heart, which could be compared with the closeness to his mother. She had made him realise that he had so much to be thankful for in that he had someone who cared and was willing to help him when in need. He knew that many would welcome that kind of love and attention and yet he had taken it all for granted. Ross then announced, "I've really had my share of Christmas, for I've been blessed with my gift already.'' CHRISTMAS SHORT STORY CONTEST CPN