Christmas Eve is in ten days, so that’s the perfect time for a short story! This is a little 2,500 word, rough blurb of how the Vanovers and much of Sully Hollow celebrate Christmas. A reminder that in the 1830s and especially in the South, Christmas usually took place the first week of January. And if you want to hear the song that Silas and Amadahy sing at the end of the story, you can listen to that here. Enjoy!
We were met with a heavy snow in the
hollow after the New Year, the mountains growing bare and silent. The blanket
of white drove everyone inside to their hearths, but my brothers and I saw the
calm as an opportunity. As the sun cast the snow sparkling in her morning rays,
I met my brothers by the iron bell in the center of the hollow. Our weapons of
choice were metal buckets, our wives’ wooden spoons, hammers, and a few hand
drums. Waya agreed to come with us, but his brow furrowed in confusion when I
passed him a hammer and a bucket instead of a hunting rife.
“So…what are
we doing exactly? I thought you said we were going hunting.” He grasped the
hammer and gave it a light swing, testing out how he might throw it at an
unsuspecting deer.
“We are
going hunting, but not for meat or skins,” I smiled and waved my small drum at
him. “We’re going serenadin’. It’s a Christmas tradition of ours.”
“And what do
all of these things have to do with singing?”
Vardan threw a set of cowbells around his shoulder
and smacked Waya on the back. “We ain’t singing to anybody. You’ll see. Now
which house are we going to first?”
We all snuck
down the hill, the only sound being the snow crunching under our shoes. Isaiah
said we should serenade our parents first, but Vardan had a different idea.
Running up to my door, his mouth curved upward in a mischievous grin as he
pointed wildly. My head immediately shook, and I hissed a scolding a him as
quietly as I could.
“No! We are
not serenading Amadahy! She’ll kill me!”
Vardan stuck
his lower lip out in a pout, and Waya, now realizing what our tools and
instruments were for, raised his eyebrows as he lifted his bucket and hammer up
in the air, ready to strike. “What’s wrong, Silas? Where’s your sense of fun?”
“Galilahi
would skin you alive if you woke her like this on Christmas morning, and you
know it.” I retorted, as I stepped back toward our parents’ cabin. “Besides,
Amadahy didn’t get to see serenadin’ the last time she was here for Christmas.
It’ll scare the daylights out of her.”
“All the
better to introduce her into a true Vanover Christmas.” Varden swung the bells
down, sending an echoing clang through the hollow, and then all hell broke
loose. Waya banged on his bucket, whooping and hollering like he was charging
into war, and my brothers all yelled while banging on their instruments,
creating a cacophony so loud I’m sure we even woke up all of Ellistown.
Having no
other choice, I pounded down on my drum, trilling and whooping along with my
brothers. After what seemed like an eternity, the door of the house swung open,
and Amadahy stomped outside into the snow, her hair undone and her eyes wide
with a mix of fright and anger.
“Danistayohihv ale alihelisdi itse udetiyv’asadisv!” I exclaimed,
smiling as I raised my drum to block any blows Amadahy landed on me for scaring
her so badly.
“Don’t you
start that ‘Christmas greetings’ with me, Silas!” She scolded, her voice
strained as if trying to catch her breath, and she put her hand to her chest. “Aquadanvdo! I nearly jumped out of my
own skin! What in Heaven’s name do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s
serenading,” I explained, glaring at my brothers and Waya, who had all backed
up to a safe distance so they were out of reach. “We do it every Christmas. The
idea is that we go to houses and make a racket. If we don’t get caught, we’re let
in for hot drinks and treats. If we are caught, we get nothing.”
I barely had finished my explanation
of the obnoxious tradition before I was met with the sting of a face full of
snow. My brothers burst into laughter as I spit the icy powder out and rubbed
it out of my eyes. Once I regained my sight, Amadahy stood triumphantly, her
hands solid on her hips.
“There’s your treat. And now that
you’ve woken me up, I guess I have no choice but to join you.”
“You want to come along?” I balked.
“What else am I supposed to do until
all the cooking starts? Besides, I really should have thrown you face-first
into that there drift, but I’m feeling a little more fun-loving today.” She
winked, and my brothers snickered, which earned them the evil eye from me. But it was settled, and we decided to pick out
our next target. Forgoing my parents’ cabin, we decided to serenade the Bell
family, who lived down the opposite hill from me and Amadahy.
The heavy layer of snow
muffled our footsteps and Vardan hushed all of us as we neared the Bell’s
place. We were given the signal, the count of three, and then we let loose. We
shot off as many bullets as possible and banged and yelled as loud as we could.
Amadahy joined in on the racket, trilling and banging her drum, and all Waya
could do this time was laugh. After a few minutes, Mrs. Bell opened the door,
pretending to be angry at us for making such a ruckus.
“I swear, all you Vanover
boys do is cause trouble ‘round here!” She eyed Amadahy and Waya, “You two
enjoying the serenades?”
“I don’t quite understand
how this is serenading anyone.” She replied, “They certainly scared me more
than anything.”
Mrs. Bell laughed. “Well,
come inside for some cider and cake before y’all freeze to death out here.
We’ll explain everything.”
Once inside, I told
her, “We believe loud noises scare away bad spirits, so we like to serenade to
bring good luck. But we turned it into a game to scare the neighbors with.”
“Interesting…” She mused
before taking a bite of cake. “And you do this every year?”
“Yep.” I smiled, happy that
she was now more in the spirit of things. “It’s one of the many things we do on
Christmas Eve. We still have a lot to accomplish after this.”
Heading back toward my
family’s house, the sound of crackling logs could be heard from the bonfire
that Pa had started on at sunrise. Once we had all returned home from
serenading, the bonfire had grown to a towering pillar in the center of the
yard. The smell of fresh bread wafted from the windows, and a few of the
Collinses had come over for a visit. As soon as I walked in the
door, Delilah jumped out from around the corner and tapped me on the
shoulder before shouting, “Christmas Gift!”
I jokingly pulled out my
empty pockets and shrugged. “Sorry, no Christmas gift this year.”
She pouted, but I pulled a
small string of beads from my pouch. “Just kidding.”
I smiled and patted her
shoulder, to which she immediately pulled her lower lip back in and uncrossed
her arms. She grabbed it from me and nudged me with her elbow, giggling. “No
Christmas gift means bad luck, Si.”
Once again, Amadahy looked
extremely confused to which I explained. “It’s another game that we play.
Someone has to sneak up on you and shout “Christmas gift.” If they succeed in
surprising you, then you have to give them a small gift.”
Isaiah entered the house
and stomped snow off of his boots, and he shivered. “Ooh, it’s cold! Well, that
should do it for the fire. I don’t think it’s going to get any bigger.”
I gestured out the window
and told Amadahy as she snuggled in a blanket, “And Pa’s bonfire is to try to
signal to the sun that we want it to return quicker, so it ain’t so cold and
the days aren’t so short.”
“Makes sense to me.” She
pulled the blanket over her head and nodded toward the window, “Hopefully
she listens.”
I plopped down next to her
and warmed my hands in front of the fire. She leaned over on me, her eyes
wandering through the cabin. “So what do we do now?”
“We can just relax until
after supper, maybe help around the house if need be.” The fire sparked and I
jerked my hand away. “Now the festivities won’t continue until sundown.”
Mama made a great spread of
food, but she placed the bread she had made early that morning up on a shelf away
from everything. I told Amadahy, “So the bread baked on Christmas Eve has
healing powers. We use lye from the fire to bake it and we often save it
for the rest of the year to use in healing. Of course, the one in front of us
is fine to eat.”
After we ate, Amadahy and I
sat by the bonfire, which was still burning strong. She leaned in on me and
smiled. “I like these traditions of yours better than hibernating. We get to do
more.”
“Christmas is a busy time
for us. Since the New Year is five days earlier, we have a lot of things to get
done before celebrating.” I looked across the yard and then above us to see
where the moon had risen high in the sky. “But…we have to be quiet now.” I
raised my finger to my lips, lowering my voice to a whisper.
She glanced around the
hollow, her eyebrows furrowing. She whispered, “Why?”
“The animals are praying. We have to be quiet so we don’t scare
them. Also to see if we can hear them sing.” I cupped a hand around the back of
my ear and she followed suit. The only sound was the snapping of the fire
behind us, and the light chatter still coming from my parents’ cabin. Her eyes
travelled from one end of the hollow to the other, and she shrugged.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“You ain’t really supposed to. But we like to stay up sometimes
to see if we can hear anything in particular…usually after midnight. Also,
water turns to wine at midnight and angels sing around the pines.”
“Ah…” She turned her gaze toward the stars, the night being
cold, but clear. “And if we’re around for all this?”
“Well, it’s bad luck.” I rubbed my arms with my hands,
trying to get some warmth back into them as a chill rattled my spine.
“Everything is about luck with your people,”
she chuckled.
“The Cherokee have their superstitions, too. Especially ’round
the New Year. But yours is earlier than ours.” I said.
“Yes. When the leaves start to fall. We’re usually well into our
wintering by this point.”
“That’s true. This year is good for you to celebrate with us.
Next year we can stay in if you like.” I said.
“No. I like this celebration. We could, but we should come out
for Christmas.” Her attention was gotten by a crowd of some of the young
girls chatting excitedly as they headed toward the Mullins’ hog pin.
We watched as the girls filed over to the split-log fence, bundled up in their
shawls. Their giggles echoed down the hill and the snow glittered
in circles around their lantern flames.
“Is this something I need to do?” Amadahy asked, grinning.
“They look like they’re enjoying themselves.”
“Not unless you don’t want me anymore.” I laughed. “That’s for
single girls to do. They go to the hog pin to see who they will marry.”
“Oh…and how do hogs let them know that?” She wrapped her arms
around my waist, signaling that she didn’t want livestock to determine our
future together.
“Each girl approaches the pin and asks what kind of man she’ll
marry. If an old hog grunts first, her husband will be an old man. If a shoat
grunts first, then her husband will be a young and handsome man.” We looked
toward the group and a groan of disgust suddenly arose from a girl in the
center followed by an eruption of laughter from her friends. “And I reckon it
ain’t going well for her.”
“But isn’t it bad luck to hear the animals singing?” Amadahy
asked, giggling, “Won’t they have bad luck being near all the hogs like that?”
“Responsive grunts don’t count as singing. If you hear them
singing hymns, then it’s bad luck for you. Just like if you see water turn to
wine in your cup. If you don’t see or hear any of it, then you’re safe.” I
explained, pulling her in.
“What kind of hymns? Just any old song?”
“I don’t know, something like,” I hummed in my throat, but soon
slowly sang a verse from one of the few carols that I knew. But trying to
impress Amadahy, I tried to sing it in Cherokee.
“E la we sv no
Ga lv quo di yu
Do hi nu s dv
Tsu lv sa da
Yv wa du wi dv
E tsi a yo li
Ga lv quo di yu
Usdi wa nai
Hi lv na do hi dv
Ga lv la di do hi dv…”
“Silent Night.” She noted, “I’ve heard Dr. Driscoll sing it
around Christmas time. It’s fitting on nights like these, I think.” She
snuggled up to me and tightened her grip on the blanket. “Though the song
should mention that it’s a silent, holy, and cold night.”
“It is cold, but the stars are pretty at least.” I noted,
turning my attention to the sky to distract myself from the chill. “Those right
there…” I pointed up to the center of the sky, “They seem to be brighter than
usual.”
“It’s the two dogs,”
Amadahy said, tracing her own finger over the stars, “They guard
the Nightland and the afterlife. Maybe they’re joining in on the
festivities.”
“Maybe they are. They
look like they’re dancing.” I grin, and our breath clouded around us in puffs.
Amadahy suddenly stood,
the snow crunching beneath her boots. She dragged the blanket along with her,
much to my dismay.
“Where’re you going?” I
ask, my teeth clattering once my warmth was taken. I scooted myself closer to the
fire, the heat a welcome feeling. “At least bring the blanket back!”
I see her shadow near the
house and she comes back around to our spot, drum in hand. “If the star dogs
are dancing, I figure we could, too. Ring in a new Christmas tradition, maybe?”
Brushing the snow from my
trousers, I grin. “Sure. Anything in mind?”
She hit the drum with her
striker, then pounded consistently so a thundering heartbeat echoed across the
hollow.
“Ya hey weya hey
Osda weya heya hey!
Yi ga da yi das tlasda
Alsgisti wo di ya
O tsalsgi osda da
Ale hiya wo di ha!”
As she sang, her feet
shuffled through the snow and like we did at Green Corn time, she started to
circle the fire. At first, she was drumming, singing, and spinning alone, but I
couldn’t contain a shivering laugh as I joined her in the fire light.
“Ya hey weya hey!
Osda weya hey
Yi ga da yi das tlasda
Alsgisti wo di ya
O tsalsgi osda da
Ale hiya wo di ha!”
Our drumming
and singing drove a few of my siblings outside, and a number of lamps across
the hollow lit when they heard the commotion. The next thing we knew, Waya had
joined us with his drum and Vardan was dancing along with me around the fire.
Amadahy’s sisters, who had remained inside their cabin most of the day,
ventured out wrapped in their shawls. Delilah had even dragged Mama out into
the snow, and the girls who were still by the hog pin stared at us with mixed
expressions of confusion and wonder. A few more families who were still awake
celebrating ran out with their lanterns in hand, and soon we had a full-scale
ceremonial dance in the hollow. Our one drum had multiplied to three and our
two singers and dancers now numbered more than ten. The moon served as our second
sacred fire, and I think even the animals and angels were dancing with us. As
Sully Hollow’s heartbeat continued throughout the night and our fire burned
strong, it would prove to be a Christmas none of us would forget.
AUTHOR | HISTORIAN | ARTIST 