For more years than anyone could ever remember, the scene had never once changed. Or so it was always believed. Inside a small bevelled dome, rising high towards the stars was a town encased in glass, forever in winter. Little coloured buildings, the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker all covered in a white cotton snowfall, no sun would ever thaw.
Where tiny flecks of glitter would shimmy and sparkle off reflective white ice. Tiny painted windows, and coloured glass panes, illuminated the houses for curious wide eyes. Children in mittens and scarves tightly wrapped, run through a carpet of powdered white grass. A boy with a snowball in his tiny clasped hand looks to another and plans his attack. Three little girls, in loose woollen hats, roll a large ball across to the flat. Two clumps of coal and a carrot lay close, waiting to awaken the snowman, we suppose.
A woman in grey, with a thick woven shawl stands by a window and studies its wairs. Inside the shop a little toy train track follows the curve of the glass fronted bay. A shiny black carriage is stalled at the station. The face of the woman is held in refrain, hope and despair are pained in her eyes. Christmas is coming and no money to spare; she could never buy the present she knew that he craved.
A pair of young lovers in an open top carriage steer a clear passage through a trail of white velvet. Their hands are entwined and hidden from view. A ring in his pocket, he would propose, she knew. Up to the church, that sits on a hill, a tower and a steeple, and a bell in pure gold. Their secret would out and all would be told.
A white haired old lady sits by her bed; her gnarly thin fingers show the life that she’s led. She holds the globe tightly, against her weak chest. Her ruby red slippers on over-puffed feet tap to a melody that plays in her head. It was her time to go, she knew it was so. A long life of plenty, now the curtain must fall. As she closed her eyes slowly and breathed her last breath, with the glass covered globe still held to her chest.
Her family held a yard sale not many years later and a small girl of eight with moonlight coloured curls picked up the globe and held it real close. Every night before bed she would look at the scene and whisper her stories to the people inside. She loved all the people, the children and the shops. But her favourite part of all was the smiling young lady with the ruby red slippers. She danced in the snow and smiled just for her.