A Christmas Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, there was a young girl. For almost her entire life, she had been there only for others. She did everything she could to make sure her mother was happy, because her mother was easily annoyed, almost always in poor health, or suffered from severe migraine attacks—nothing she did was ever good enough. Her mother found her annoying, even though she was constantly trying to look after her. From an early age, she took on the household chores, which she could, of course, only do in the afternoons, since she was at school in the mornings. On her way home, she’d stop by the grocery store and pick up groceries. Naturally, she paid closer and closer attention to the sales, because ever since her mother stopped working, they’d both been poor—so there was no room for luxuries. She couldn’t afford anything; none of her wishes were granted. The little girl wore only hand-me-downs and cast-off clothes, which is why she was often teased and laughed at at school—after all, who wants to associate with people they can’t keep up with, either in style or financially! That’s why the girl could only play with things she made herself or crafted from old, used materials. She loved everything made of wool, because the feeling of holding this beautiful material in her fingers, stroking her cheek with it, and cuddling with it was simply unbeatable. She taught herself to crochet and knit, and as soon as she held a piece of wool in her hands and could work with it, she was happy and even developed a certain skill. The most beautiful things were made for her teddy bear and the little doll that her mom had once played with. She would repeatedly take the finished garments apart so she could rework the wool and create a new design… that gave her great joy, and she also had a talent for designing clothes. Now it was Christmas again; her mother lay in the darkened room, with a cold washcloth over her eyes, moaning to herself...! No Christmas tree or any other seasonal decorations filled the small apartment with festive cheer. It didn’t smell of cinnamon stars or marzipan, nor of cloves or mulled wine. It smelled exclusively of the “MißErnte 23” cigarettes, for her mother was a notorious chain smoker. As everyone knows, smoking is expensive, and so the rest of the household money vanished into thin air as always—the very same air that then stank so horribly. It was the evening of December 24th… her mother was snoring loudly on the sofa and showed not the slightest inclination to celebrate Christmas Eve… but rather to sleep through it. “What a miserable Christmas Eve!” thought the little girl as she looked sadly out the window of the new housing development on the 10th floor. From up here, she could see into many strangers’ living rooms, where right now, at dusk, the Christmas trees were being lit, little bells were ringing, and the children of other families were being called to open their presents. The most delicious dishes were steaming on the tables, and everyone was happy. Sadly, she bit into the cold kabanossi sausage from the shelf for expired products and swallowed it mixed with the salt of her tears. It tasted absolutely awful! She crept past the living room toward the hallway, pulled on her torn down jacket from the charity shop, and left the apartment to take a short walk; perhaps the cold winter air would take her mind off things. She took the elevator to the ground floor and quickly realized she was dressed far too warmly… it was almost 17 degrees, and there was no snow in sight. She only knew the beautiful snow from very old, yellowed photos pinned with magnets to the rickety refrigerator. In the photos, her mother was shown in her younger years, with a very happy face; she was standing in a tender embrace with her father on a white ski slope. Both were wearing red pointed hats with white plush trim and pom-poms on their heads. During that ski vacation, her father had been swept away by an avalanche right next to the ski slope. He didn’t survive that trip, and her mother—pregnant and now a widow—returned to her small apartment on the 10th floor. Her mother never fully recovered from that shock. She unzipped her jacket and, lost in thought, walked through the empty streets toward the city park. She didn’t really want to stroll through the city park, because it crept her out and she was still just a schoolgirl. But she could take the path AROUND the city park, which was lit by many streetlights. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Suddenly she heard a strange sound… something like a whimper and a moan… it really sounded pitiful….and it was coming straight from the dark city forest........“Should I just keep walking, pretend nothing’s happening? I don’t dare go into that wild underbrush... I know the city forest; it hasn’t been maintained since last year because the city doesn’t have any money left and the forester was laid off. Ever since then, the city park has looked like the space under the Hempel family’s sofa, Mom always says! But then again, I know we don’t even know any Hempel family—so how could SHE possibly know what it looks like under their sofa?” Such jumbled thoughts swirled through her head. The whimper turned into an even more pitiful scream. One thing was certain: Someone out there needed help! Like any smart girl, she had a powerful flashlight in her jacket, but when she turned it on, she realized the batteries had seen better days… only a dim glow illuminated the overgrown forest floor next to the concrete footpath. Nevertheless, she left the path with determined steps and trudged through fallen trees, scattered branches, and the overgrown underbrush into the forest, which lay before her like a giant black cave, its mouth wide open! Damn my imagination! The forest has NO mouth… it’s just a forest at night! Never mind…The sad whimper came from that direction, and just as clearly, a rustling sound could be heard growing louder and louder... But there was nothing to be seen! “Is anyone there... Hello?” she called out in that direction. Then the sound fell silent. Suddenly, it was almost deathly quiet. All that could be heard was her own rapid breathing and the rustling of the light wind in the treetops. “Hello?” she said in an almost choked-up child’s voice.... “I’ve already called the police—they’ll be here any minute!” She’d once heard this tactically clever line in a crime show, *Tatort*, on TV: It was on while her mother was sleeping on the sofa. She couldn’t sleep herself, felt a bit homesick for her mother, and went to see her in the living room...but the only sign of life was her mother’s snoring. Many empty wine bottles were scattered on and around the coffee table… and the TV was on. “They’re coming in a police van and should be here any minute!” she added in her thin little voice… what followed was: absolute silence! Now her teeth began to chatter…she could no longer control her lower jaw; the nerve rattled nervously, banging against her upper teeth... “Oh, dear God, don’t leave me alone now... I’m sooo terribly afraid...” she screamed in her mind, “What terrible things could happen now?... Why did I ever stray from the path... Where is the settlement?... ”The dark silence around her held no answers.......She was alone, and she became acutely aware of this fact. Hot tears ran silently down her cheeks. Then suddenly: “.........Baaah....!” The bleating came right from her feet! Quickly, she shone the flashlight on the ground..In the soft glow, she looked directly into two sad, very dark little eyes. A little lamb looked at her, seeking help! Its whole body was trembling. She dropped to her knees and examined the dainty little creature more closely, feeling its entire body, and quickly realized that the little lamb’s hind leg was stuck fast in a fork in a branch and it couldn’t move any further. Its leg was covered in blood; the more the little creature tugged at it, the more firmly it became trapped. She quickly realized what she had to do: she rummaged in her back pocket and pulled out the most precious thing she owned! Her late father’s old but sturdy pocket knife—the only thing she had left from him: “LetterFrau… The Pocket Knife for All Handicraft Enthusiasts”… it said. It had so many functions: a sharp knife, of course, various screwdrivers, a bottle opener, lock picks, and the most useful of all: crochet hooks in three different sizes! But for this particular situation, she needed a special tool… the super saw that could cut through anything! She put the flashlight in her mouth to aim the beam of light exactly where she needed it. The little lamb whimpered softly and looked at her even more fearfully! She sawed as carefully as she could, very close to the trapped little leg. She had to be careful not to slip and hurt the poor animal even more; the wood was very hard, and she was having a hard time cutting through it. Sweat dripped from her forehead, and her hands soon began to ache from the repetitive yet forceful motion. When she was three-quarters of the way through the branch, she was already very close to the lamb’s leg with the sharp shears… and the poor little creature was still wriggling back and forth. She hugged it and spoke soothingly to the little one, but then found it difficult to keep sawing with just one hand. Well, but eventually she was almost through—you can tell by the sound of the saw that almost no material was resonating anymore; there was a soft crack… the little lamb was free. And before she knew it, it darted away and vanished into the darkness within seconds. Too bad… she would have loved to take it home with her! She wiped the sweat from her forehead, folded up the “LetterFau,” and, by the light of her flashlight, found her way back to the sidewalk. She walked home feeling somehow happy and uplifted: she had freed the little lamb!  From a distance, she heard a chorus of bleating… the lost lamb had apparently found its way back to its flock… She quietly unlocked the front door; it was as if she’d never been gone. No one had missed her! She put on her pajamas, brushed her teeth thoroughly, and got into bed. Before she fell asleep, she counted many fluffy, woolly little sheep jumping over a fence one after another.... Christmas Day was almost always even sadder than Christmas Eve itself; Mom was still sleeping off her hangover, and if the weather outside was gloomy and gray to boot, then there was hardly a worse day of the year. She hopped out of bed to pull back the curtains; outside it was gloomy, gray, and it was even raining! “Great. There’s no point in watching all 14 reruns of *Three Nuts for Cinderella* that are airing all day on the different TV channels. Mom won’t let me sit with her on the couch anyway… she always wants her peace and quiet!” She went to the kitchen to whip up some kind of breakfast, opened the fridge, and saw… NOTHING… the fridge was empty! Two holidays that fall at such a lousy time that a Sunday follows them too…which basically means you can’t buy food for three days… a real disaster, especially when the fridge is empty! Hungry, she crept back to her room and lay back down in bed, which was still warm. The heat had been turned down to save money… there just wasn’t any money for a cozy, warm apartment! Suddenly, the doorbell rang: “Brrrring, brring!” Who could that be? She hadn’t had any visitors in years… no one wanted to subject themselves to this sad misery, and her mother was a terrible host—she never let anyone into the apartment anyway! There was a grunt from the living room; her mother was lying on the sofa and rolled over, knocking over an empty wine bottle that rolled under the coffee table… She walked to the door and peered through the peephole into an empty hallway… only the sound of the elevator moving away could still be heard… it was going down… She opened the door. On the doormat lay a huge, brightly glowing, neatly wound ball of wool... She picked it up—how soft it was! It smelled faintly of lanolin and was as fluffy as a cloud looks. The wool-white, silky thread shimmered delicately, and every single strand was visible. A note was attached to it that read: “For a brave girl with a very big heart! May all your wishes come true!” “What kind of idiot was at the door?”—“No one, Mom!...Just go back to sleep!”She sat down on her bed, placed the ball of yarn on her lap, picked up the size 3 crochet hook, and began to chain a few stitches. “I still need some loaves of bread and rolls for my play store—I’ll just crochet them myself. I saw that in a photo once; it looked beautiful, so I’m going to give it a try—it’ll turn out fine!” And the snow-white yarn was perfect for it…it was kind of the right color for rolls, the girl thought. On a magic ring, she crocheted 14 single crochets and closed the first round with a slip stitch. Then she made a turning chain for the second round and began doubling every third stitch from the previous row; she did this exactly three times, then crocheted three rows without any increases. Next, she needed to decrease to form the roll. To do this, starting on the 7th round, she bound off every third and fourth stitch together for three rows, until she was back to the original number of stitches...Now fill the resulting cavity with light-colored fabric scraps or simply some cotton batting, and from here on out, keep crocheting two stitches together until the hole closes almost on its own... weave in the remaining thread... and the first bun is done! She had so much fun that within an hour, four little crocheted buns were lying in front of her. The woolly little buns look wonderful. Her mouth was practically watering, because she hadn’t had breakfast yet… since there was nothing there at all! Still, she went into the kitchen to look for something to eat. She was quite astonished when she entered the room… it actually smelled like fresh rolls! There were lots of fragrant, light-colored rolls on the kitchen table! They were still slightly warm and had a wonderful crust. When she took a bite of a roll, it felt like she was in heaven... Such good rolls... just like from the bakery... the quick-bake Polish frozen dough rolls sold at the Duisköunter were absolutely NO match for them! Hmmm... what a treat... even without anything on top. And those sausages… that would be nice; I could use the sausages for my little shop, too—maybe I’ll just crochet a few Vienna sausages? Feeling refreshed, she went back to her room and got to work. Strangely enough, the ball of yarn had now taken on a different color… or was that just her imagination? It was somehow “sausage-colored”! Anyway… she cast on 10 single crochets onto a magic ring and, instead of joining the first round with a slip stitch, simply crocheted over the first single crochet in a spiral, then continued spiraling upward in this way without adding any more stitches. She kept the original number of stitches until the little sausage was about 12 cm long, then she stuffed it again and, in the last round, crocheted 2 single crochets together until the opening closed on its own! Of course, she repeated this, because for a pair of “Wienerle,” you naturally need two identical little sausages. “Look, Mom, what I crocheted!” Beaming with joy and holding the already joined sausages between her fingers, she ran to her mother, who had finally gotten up. She was standing in the kitchen, staring in disbelief at the stove. There sat a large pot full of hot water, in which a dozen Vienna sausages were floating and steaming away. “What on earth is THAT?” her mother asked, pointing her index finger at the full pot! Did a tender smile flit across her mother’s face? ...or was it just a twitch? Together they placed a few hot sausages on two plates, grabbed the crispy rolls to go with them, and sat down together on the worn-out sofa in the living room. In silence, they ate the sausages, which, by the way, tasted absolutely delicious; she watched her mother eat. Every now and then, her mother would pause, her gaze would become glassy, and you could tell she was lost in a thought, in a daydream. After a short while, her mother pulled herself together and continued chewing. She didn’t know her mother any other way… it had always been like that: Her mother had always been more absent than present! So there they sat, both peacefully cross-legged on the old sofa, their plates resting on their knees, eating together for the first time in a long time… when it began to snow outside. Thick flakes fell onto the small, bare concrete balcony, which lay directly in front of the living room window of the small, cold apartment. Her mother froze and began to cry very quietly. Little streams of tears ran from both her eyes, and a watery liquid also came from her nose, running down onto her lips. She quickly handed her mother a handkerchief, into which she blew her nose vigorously. “What’s wrong with you, Mom? Why do you always cry when you see snow, when it’s snowing? Just tell me already!” Her mother looked at her sadly with reddened eyes and said, sobbing softly, “Oh, the snow! That snow stole my heart eleven years ago. When your father died in the avalanche, my heart died right along with him... I haven’t had one since...!” Sobbing, her mother slumped to one side, and her face disappeared, weeping, into the large, worn-out sofa pillow... she was no longer responsive. The girl was now very, very sad as well; she, too, had tears in her eyes. She stood up, cleared the plates away to the kitchen, and went back to her room. To her astonishment, she noticed that the ball of yarn was now blood-red! It practically glowed against the white bedding, and a faint pulsing, like a heartbeat, emanated from it... As if under a magical spell, she picked up her crochet hook, sat cross-legged on her bed, and cast on 8 single crochets onto a magic ring; once again, she worked her way forward in a spiral, doubling every fourth stitch for the next 4 rounds, then she set the resulting small hemisphere aside and made an exact replica of it! She placed the two hemispheres edge to edge and joined them with 5 single crochets; using the same yarn, she now worked around the EIGHT she had just created. Whenever the two hemispheres met at the connecting bridge, she crocheted two stitches together at the front and back… so the shape became increasingly pointed, since she was effectively decreasing two stitches in practically every round..... She filled the hollow space with magic yarn again and closed the little hat using the same principle until only one stitch remained on the hook! She quickly weaved in the ends... turned the object over, and there it was—a beautifully shaped, dark red HEART in her hand. “THIS is going to be Mom’s new heart!” she exclaimed and ran into the living room! It was very cold in the living room... her mother was fast asleep on the sofa, snoring loudly. Oh, how nice it would be to have an open fireplace, where the warmth of the burning logs spreads cozily throughout the whole room. But how could that work in a concrete house from the ’70s? There isn’t even a chimney here… unless… maybe I could try crocheting one while Mom is still asleep? I mean, thanks to that ball of Wunderwolle, such great things have already happened here today—maybe THAT will work out, too?” “The girl covered her mother with the faded sofa blanket from KIK…” Maybe I could try my hand at a nice, cozy sofa blanket made of colorful granny squares…when I have more time again…But first, I have other projects to tackle. The snow-covered balcony—I wanted to spruce it up with crocheted flowers today, too... Oh, there’s always so much to do when you love crafts; you constantly see beautiful things everywhere that you could make!” She went back to her room...The wonderful ball of yarn lay on the bed, shimmering in every color… it smelled wonderfully of flowers—of roses and violets, of clematis and clematis vines… just like at a wholesale plant market, just like in a blooming flower meadow—and she knew immediately what to do! Round 1—Chain 10 single crochets (SC) onto a magic ring, join with a slip stitch (SS). Round 2—Next, we need 5 chains for the petals: Chain 4, skip one stitch, secure with a single crochet (SC), repeat this 5 times, join with a slip stitch (SS)...Round 3 – Now the petals: 1 single crochet, 5 double crochets, 1 single crochet; repeat this 5 times, then close with a slip stitch....Round 4 – Create chains again...work 1 single crochet around each single crochet from Round 2, then attach to the next white single crochet with 6 chain stitches...work one round and close with a slip stitch in the first chain space... Round 5: Now the next petals: 1 single crochet, 7 double crochets, 1 single crochet; repeat this 5 times, close with a slip stitch.... In no time at all, many colorful flowers had been created, scattered wildly across her bed.... The magical ball of yarn just kept getting bigger and bigger—it simply WOULDN’T get any smaller! The flowers turned out so wonderfully colorful; the ball of yarn kept changing colors on its own... she was in a whirlwind of colors and crochet and grew happier and happier as she went! After an hour, full of anticipation, she went into the living room with both hands full of crocheted flowers, opened the balcony door, and tossed the many flowers with gusto into the snow. They scattered across the ground and the snow-covered railing and looked quite beautiful—as long as they didn’t sink completely into the snow. “Well, now let’s wait and see what else happens here… I’m going to work on the fireplace… and the fire!” And so she spent the whole afternoon; the Magic Ball of Yarn helped wherever it could, changing the colors as needed: terracotta for the fireplace, red, orange, and black for the blazing flames. Then she designed a beautiful dress for her doll and her teddy bear, crocheted a roasted chicken and lots of healthy vegetables in miniature… and had such fun doing it… time flew by, as it always does when you’re deeply absorbed in something! Her mother stayed curled up on the sofa the whole time, sleeping almost comatose.  It grew dark… and so the evening of Christmas Day dawned. Around 8:00 p.m., the mother awoke… Her eyes were still very puffy from all the crying… she squinted and couldn’t believe her eyes. The small balcony had been transformed into a sea of flowers; it looked like the tropical greenhouse at the botanical garden…Blossoms and leaves lined up in rows... there was almost no snow to be seen. And the flowers were blooming as if it were summer... strange. What on earth is this? There was a loud crack... she was startled... only now did she notice the crackling fireplace on the right side of the room! Yes, how did a fireplace get in here? It’s so beautiful and so cozy and warm… the room even looks quite cozy in this light. Her daughter now rounded the corner in a truly enchanting little dress. She brought in a silver platter with a roasted chicken and lots of healthy vegetables and set it all on the coffee table. “Merry Christmas, dear Mom!” The mother’s mouth dropped open… only now did she notice that she, too, was wearing a beautiful dress, and that the blanket on the sofa was a gorgeous, colorful granny quilt—the kind you usually only see on Facebook in American craft groups… It was a miracle. “My dear child, what on earth is going on with me? All these years I’ve lived right beside you and felt no love for you… how could I have been so cold-hearted? Yet YOU are the greatest treasure I have!” They fell into each other’s arms, both weeping bitterly over all the wasted years without warmth or a mother’s love. They forgave each other everything, laughed and chatted a lot, and dug into the delicious holiday roast. Only now and then did one of them have to remove a small piece of yarn from between her teeth, but that really didn’t matter: the food tasted almost as good as Sabine’s Sicilian eggplant casserole! It turned out to be the most wonderful Christmas for both of them....And the very best part of the story: I also had that ball of yarn in my store—of course, only if you brought enough imagination along!! So that would be lovely! Warm regards, Perle

What a beautiful story, dear Petra!

Best regards
Ingrid

A very beautiful story

Thank you, and have a lovely Christmas holiday

Christmas greetings
Petra

Thank you for this beautiful fairy tale—it’s simply wonderful

A heartwarming story, dear Perle

Dear Petra-Perle, I see so much of myself in this story that it brought me to tears. Thank you 

Dear Petra, thank you so much for this Christmas story. It contains so much that is realistic and sad that you feel increasingly weighed down as you read. What a bleak existence. But then comes the turning point: through a good deed, the girl's fortunes take a turn for the better. The magical, never-ending ball of yarn brings her personal joy, hope, and warmth. What's more, it also reaches her mother's heart. At first, I found her very unsympathetic, since she is, after all, responsible for her daughter's life. But then—with the new crocheted wool heart—she shares her sorrow, and you begin to understand her. Now everything will be all right! It's a shame that it took so many years and so much suffering to reach this realization. Fortunately, the girl had the wool to comfort her in the meantime.

What wool, wishes, and imagination can do in a fairy tale. Let's make a little miracle like this happen somewhere in the world every day with our creative yarn ideas! I'll probably never forget your Christmas story. Thank you for that.

Best regards - Ina

I’m glad you’re enjoying the Christmas story… I’d written it as a synopsis for a craft book… The idea was to always pair short stories with patterns… Unfortunately, the publisher doesn’t share that vision! But at least they’ve published two other books with me… one featuring only granny squares and one featuring only hats… But never mind—I’ll keep writing anyway… I wish you all a happy New Year… with lots of fun stitches...

Dear Petra, I’m deeply moved by your story, and I still have tears in my eyes... So much of it reminded me of my own childhood. However, I had parents with big hearts. 

Thank you so much for sharing it with us here!

I wish you a wonderful New Year filled with lots of great ideas!

Warm regards
Monika