Christmas
Stefania Shukhov "Oh, the joy of waking, and remembering at once that it was Christmas morning. It was still only half-light, but because of the white radiance of the snow there was a brightness in her room, and Fanny could see perfectly well. She scrambled from her bed, and ran to the window and looked outside, but she could see nothing for the ferns and whorls and delicate tracery of rime on the inside of the pane. She touched her finger to it and it burned with the cold, and the air was cold, too, so that she dived at once back into her bed." Stanley Roy Badmin "The snow crunched under their feet, and everywhere, the sun caught on a million beads and drops of hoar frost and threw off a million rainbows, intensely bright and glittering. On the gate hung a spider's web, infinitely delicate, and stiff as frozen lace, with the spider itself frozen in the heart of it. And on the hedges and trees, the fences and posts, were the seams of snow. By the lych-g...