The Caroler at the Door

Story three: The Last Carol. I've always loved Christmas in my old neighborhood,

but five years ago, that peace was shattered. It started a week before Christmas around 11:00 PM.

I was reading when I heard a single high-pitched voice singing. I went to the window

and saw a small boy, maybe eight or nine, standing under a streetlight.

He was dressed in old-fashioned clothes, a newsboy cap, and a patched wool jacket.

He was singing Silent Night, his voice hauntingly beautiful. When he finished,

he stared at my house for a long moment, then vanished into the darkness.

The next night, he was back. Same time, same corner. This time,