T'was Christmas Eve

The sun sets, as light snow falls, over the small stone footbridge spanning a narrow river; crossing it, are a dozen or so joyous families, dressed in early 1900 European winter fashions, heading south towards a small candle lit church.

Ten or so meters away, near the town’s fountain, stands Marion, 25 year old lass, who could pass for 40, dressed in rags. She watches the crowd, holding tight, her shivering bare arms, as she slowly advances towards the footbridge.

In the moving crowd, a woman, Louise, accompanied by her husband Henry and their five year old daughter Elsbeth, looks to Marion.

Louise stops to point, and shout. "Ya filthy wench, T’is Christmas eve… Ain't ya got any decency, in front of our young’ns?"

The crowd almost comes to a grinding halt and begins to murmur. "You Jezebel", a lady’s voice sings out in disgust.

The carolers hush, as all eyes are on Marion.

Henry grabs hold of Louise’s arm and whispers. "Don’t create a spectacle Louise... Let the poor lass be."

Louise shakes his hold, appalled. " Ya support that kinda filth Henry?"

Marion looks to them. A tears rolls down her cheek, and without hesitation, quickly turns and runs towards the fountain, till out of sight.

Elsbeth tugs on Louise’s arm, as the crowd recommence their stroll towards the church. "That lady looks so cold and sad."

Louise answers back sternly. "T’is no lady, Elsbeth." She snobbishly lifts her head and takes a firm hold of Elsbeth’s hand, as she heads at a fast pace, towards the church.

Henry quickly glances back then follows without a word, as Elsbeth keeps looking back.

By the fountain, Marion smiles as she waves at Elsbeth, who returns a smile, as she continues being led by Louise; until out of sight, as hey enter the warmly lit church.

MOMENTS LATER…

Marion, by the fountain, sits shivering.

In her hand, is a small locket, hanging from her neck chain. She gently rubs it, as a tear rolls down her face.

She glances towards the church, then back to the locket.

5 YEARS PRIOR, CHRISTMAS EVE…

A room, lit by a few candles, reveals Marion in tears, sitting on an old bed; a bundled baby in arm. Henry, stands near her.

Marion stands, and slowly hands Henry the baby.

“She’ll be well looked after Marion. No one will ever know. We’ll treat her like our own, I promise.”

Marion nods, eyes welling, as she caresses her baby’s face then looks deeply into Henry’s eyes. “That’s our little daughter Henry.”

Henry lovingly caresses Marion’s cheek then gently kisses it. “I know. But that’s our secret… Louise shall never know. I told her I was picking up a child from the orphanage, that had just lost their mother.”

-“Can I ever see her again?”

-“No, no-one must ever know about us.”

Henry places his hand in his pocket and pulls out a locket on a chain and hands it to Marion. “I want you to have this… It was my mother’s… A token of our bond and part of my heart”

Marion drops her head in tears as she gathers her hands to her face, locket in palm.

She sobs and utters in a hurt but gentle manner. ”Go. Go now, before I change my mind.”

Henry, silent, sadly turns and walks to the wooden door, and opens it.

Marion looks up, as Henry quietly exits. As he closes the door, Marion throws herself on the bed, in tears.

PRESENT...

Marion rubs the locket and gently guides it back towards her heart, as she looks to the church once more.

The footbridge is bare; all villagers, now inside the church, sing in choir.

Marion stands and slowly heads towards the footbridge, shivering as the fresh snow reveals her every footprint.

She reaches the bridge’s edge, becoming hypnotized by the moonlit ripples, forming on the water’s surface.

She takes hold of her pendant and slowly slips it over her head, kisses it and gently places it on the ground, near her feet.

A tear rolls down her cheek as she looks back to the rippling water and slowly stands.

She steps onto the edge of the footbridge’s small stone wall, and opens her arms wide.

“Virgin Mary... Could you carry me? Close to your bosom and in your loving arms? Could you carry me…To the gates of Eternity?”

The moon appears to glow brighter.

Marion smiles and looks towards the church. “Take care of my little girl Henry. She was my Christmas gift, to you.”

She closes her eyes for an instant, and then leans forward.

Her body, as if in slow motion, gently falls towards the river, and slowly submerges; until, it disappears.

Marion’s footprints are now barely visible, as the snow gently fills in the gaps.