The Story Finder

Mason Trent

Old Mr. Turner hummed a Christmas tune as he and his sleigh horse Bill went out for a ride. Mr. Turner was bundled in his winter coat and his favorite hat sat at a jaunty angle upon his head. If one looked closely, they would have seen a pair of bright blue eyes twinkling out at the world hiding in an age-worn, but happy face. Bill’s harness bells jingled merrily, as his hooves crunched the snow. A light dusting of white rested on his grey dappled back.

Sometimes, Mr. Turner and Bill brought wooden toys Mr. Turner had carved for different children or food and clothes for those in need. And sometimes, they would deliver a tree from Mr. Turner’s farm. But what Mr. Turner loved best was telling stories. Children of all ages loved them. He might even bring his guitar or mandolin if the mood struck him. Mr. Turner believed the world was full of stories waiting to be told or written. He also liked to look for stories.

Today he had just one tree to deliver and was in a mind to look for stories. Meanwhile, Bill’s ears flicked towards the woods. Did his driver hear the faint whisper of sound? See the shadow of movement, small and slight? Bill huffed, breath misting in the cold.
“Whoa!” Mr. Turner pulled on the reins. “What is it Bill?”
Bill pawed the ground and turned his dappled head towards the woods. He whinnied as big brown eyes met small gray ones peeping around a tree.
“Why bless me!” Mr. Turner exclaimed quietly. “It’s a Christmas Elf!”
Bill cocked a dark, gray ear back listening to the voice of his driver.
“My grandmother told me once, when she was a girl, she saw one in these very same woods! And this one looks like a lass too!”
“Hello!” Mr. Turner said tipping his hat.
The elf girl was very still.
“We won’t bother her,” he said to Bill. “Goodness knows what kind of elf errands she has this cold winter.

Well looks like the story found us this time Bill. And I think it’s the kind of story children of all ages have to find for themselves. It’s a quiet kind of story, more for keepin’ and less for the tellin’. “
Bill seemed to nod his large head in agreement, harness bells merrily jingling.

“Best of luck on your errands, lass!” Mr. Turner smiled.
The elf said nothing in reply, but intently watched Mr. Turner and Bill.
At last they were on their way. Mr. Turner held an arm up and waved. “Farewell!” he said without looking back.
Somewhere in the trees, a small figure smiled.
Bill’s hoof beats faded away from the forest and Old Mr. Turner chuckled to himself as he hummed Christmas tunes, bright, blue eyes twinkling out at the world.