Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness throughout the world.

Additional Story for Christmas Contest –  Helen Dowd

December 26, 2007

TINTAGEL, The Forest Angel

by Helen Marjorie Dowd

"Angela, Angela. Where are you? What did I do to make you angry? I thought we were friends." Tintagel's throat was hoarse from calling for her friend. She was cold and wet from the tears that had poured from her eyes all night. And she was lonely and frightened. She sighed, and her weary mind drifted back to three weeks ago.

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It had been such an exciting day, that day Tintagel had joined her brothers and sisters and cousins as they piled into the back of the pick-up. They all giggled so much on their trip from the forest that the whole truck shook. And standing in the yard of the greenhouse, surrounded by her relatives, she felt so proud. The wonderful smell of flowers and spices floated past her, and into her ears came the sweetest music she had ever heard. "Silver bells," someone was singing, and she could actually hear the bells ringing close at hand. It was like nothing she had ever imagined. Tintagel felt so at peace with the world.

But soon the quietness around her ended. She heard a flood of voices. She had heard voices a few times before, but they had always floated away as quickly as they had come. This time they increased, and they came closer.

"Oh Daddy, let's take this one. Oh no, Mama. Look! Here's a better one." Tintagel wondered for a minute what the voices meant. But she soon found out, as one and another of her own companions were whisked from her side. As she watched the people, big and little, mill about her she couldn't help being just a little fearful.

But then she heard a voice that made her feel warm and fuzzy all over. "Mother," said the quiet, musical voice. "Come look at this beautiful one right here." Tintagel shivered as soft hands caressed her. She couldn't help letting a teardrop fall onto the little girl's hand as she stroked her. And then she felt herself being lifted by gentle hands. It hurt a little when she was shoved into the trunk of a car, and the lid closed almost all the way down. The ropes stung a little, too, but she couldn't help feeling that her life was about to become very exciting. Her eyes were open wide as she began her trip to her new home. She didn't want to miss a thing. But soon she could feel a tightening in her throat, and her eyes began to water. She could feel herself choking on the exhaust fumes from the cars buzzing down the highway. And then she remembered her mother's words. "Tintagel, I had so hoped that you would not be among the ones chosen to go to the market." Maybe this was why her mother had said that.

Tintagel breathed a sigh of relief when the car stopped and the family piled out. Her excitement began to rise again. She had never been inside a house in her whole life. She could hardly wait to see what went on. But when she felt herself being yanked from the trunk of the car, she became afraid, until she heard that musical voice again. "Be careful, Daddy," it said, and those soft hands touched her again.

The next three days of Tintagel's life were the worst she had ever spent. She leaned against the wall of the dark garage, forgotten. What was the meaning of it all? She longed to see the little girl so that she could talk to her, ask her why she was brought here only to stand inside a smelly garage. She wished she knew the girl's name so that she could call out to her.

"Poor Tintagel," she heard in her mind. It was her mother's tearful voice, the last time she had heard it. Oh, how she wished she could be back in the forest with all the other blue spruce, standing proud between her mother and her father.

Tintagel jumped. She heard voices, excited voices. She heard the voice of her little friend. Then she felt herself being carried. Suddenly she felt warm. She shut her eyes against the bright light, but soon became used to it. The next thing she knew she was standing upright. She felt warm water at her feet. Oh, did it feel good! She hadn't realized how thirsty she had become. She didn't much care for the feeling of screws being tightened around her feet, but at least it was better than leaning, alone, in a garage.

Soon Tintagel had forgotten all about her pinched feet, or the loneliness of the dark garage, and even about her parents. A confusion of happy voices surrounded her, pleasant smells floated all around her, and happy music flooded the room. And that beautiful little girl with the soothing voice was so close to her, touching her, dressing her up with sparkling jewels and tinkling trinkets. Tintagel felt so proud. She held her head high.

Then she heard the man saying, "Okay, it's time for Angela--the Christmas angel." And she felt those gentle fingers again. Her little friend was on her daddy's shoulders, placing a shining angel right on top of Tintagel's head. It felt like a crown, and Tintagel felt like a queen. "We got that angel six years ago, the same time you came to us," said her daddy. "That's why we named you Angela. You were our Christmas angel. Happy Birthday, darling." With a kiss he set his daughter down, and turned on the lights. Tintagel blinked. Just as she was beginning to think she couldn't be any happier she was ablaze with dozens of colored lights. She trembled.

For the next hour, while the family sang and danced around Tintagel, she closed her eyes, enjoying every second of it. Then the house grew quiet. Tintagel had time to think, "Angela." Tintagel sighed. "Angela...Tintagel." The names sounded good together. Oh, how she wished she could talk to Angela. She wished she could tell her how glad she was to have come to live with her.

Later that night, after her little friend was asleep, and Tintagel had also dozed off, she was startled by the sudden activity going on around her. She opened her eyes a crack, to watch. It was hard to see who it was, but someone was placing beautiful packages at Tintagel's feet. Were they for her? What did it all mean?

And then she heard Angela's mommy saying, "Oh, isn't it all so lovely?"

"Yes, darling," the man answered, his arms around his wife, "and that is the most beautiful tree we have ever had. The Angel looks brighter this year than ever before!"

A wee tear snuck from Tintagel's eye. She was trembling so hard from happiness that she thought for sure that some of the decorations would drop from her branches.

Early next morning, after the best night's sleep Tintagel had ever had in her life, she was awakened by the sound of soft footsteps on the stairs. "Hello, Angela," she whispered. "My name is Tintagel." She wasn't sure Angela could hear her, or understand her, but she went on anyway. "I wanted to tell you what a lovely little girl you are, and I wanted to thank you for picking me from all those other trees in the greenhouse yard."

Angela's big brown eyes twinkled as she gazed up at the tree. "Tintagel," she said. "What a pretty name. You are so beautiful. What does your name mean?"

Surprised and happy that Angela had heard and understood her, Tintagel gulped before answering. "Tintagel means 'Forest Angel.' My father picked out the name. One day some loggers came into the forest and cut down a lot of trees. When they got to where my father and mother were, they looked down and saw me standing between them. They touched my parents, and said, 'No, we won't cut down these two trees. This little one between them needs their protection.' That's when my father said, 'I think our little off-shoot must be our guardian angel. Let's call her Tintagel'. So that year they left me. But different men came to the forest this year, and I was bigger, so they picked me to join the other trees to go to the market."

"I think you are my very best friend," said Angela. From then on, whenever she and Tintagel were alone, they enjoyed many private conversations.

Tintagel didn't have long to wait to find out whom all the pretty presents were for. Most of them were for her new friend. She was delighted to have them set back around her feet after they were opened. The next several days were filled with so many happy activities that Tintagel thought she would shrivel up with excitement.

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But then, last night her whole new world came crashing down around her. All the pretty presents were taken away from around her feet. She was stripped of all the gorgeous trinkets and twinkling lights. Her feet were no longer covered with a dazzling skirt, and everyone sounded cranky. Angela's father yanked Tintagel from her stand, took her to the back door, and flung her into the cold darkness. As she was sailing through the air she heard Angela's mommy saying,

"Oh, I don't know why I put up with it year after year. Look at the mess. Needles all over the place. I'm glad to be seeing the last of that old tree."

Angela was the only one who didn't say anything.

Tintagel's head ached from crying all night, but now that it was morning, she craned her neck to try to figure out where she was. She was surprised to learn that she was not alone. Others of her kind lined the driveway. Oh, it was all so strange, so frightening. What was to become of them?

Her heart skipped a beat. She saw Angela coming. She called out, hoping her friend would hear her. 'Angela, Angela. Please tell me why I have been thrown away. What did I do wrong?"

"Oh Tintagel," said Angela, kneeling beside her castaway tree-friend. "I cried so hard when I saw Daddy throw you out. I didn't know it would end like this." Suddenly she stood up. "I know what I'm going to do." She lifted Tintagel to a standing position. "This might hurt you a little," she said, "but I'm going to drag you to school."

"To school?" Tintagel was puzzled.

"Yes. I'm going to take you to 'Show-and-tell'. I'm going to tell my whole class that I think we should NEVER cut down trees from the forest for Christmas. I love you Tintagel, but now your life is over. I'm so sorry. But I'm going to tell all my friends that if you, and all the other trees like you, had been left in the forest you could have had birds live in your branches. You would have helped to keep the moisture in the air. You would have made the forest more beautiful.

"You know what else I'm going to do, Tintagel?"

Tintagel by now was too weak to answer her friend, so she just listened.

"I am going to take you to my uncle's place and ask him to carve an angel out of you. And all year long you will sit on my dresser reminding me to protect our forest."

Tintagel smiled, and her eyes closed forever.

Hint from Helen: Why not buy a tree in a pot for Christmas? That way, when Christmas is over, you can plant the tree in your back yard.

İHelen Dowd  

 hmdowd@telus.net