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Chasing Christmas Past
An Airship Racing Chronicles
Short Story
By Melanie Karsak
Part 1
A light dusting of snow covered
the bowsprit of the Stargazer.
The wind blew gently. A cascade of fat snowflakes gusted across the
deck of the airship. When the flurry hit the bulwark, the flakes
became a little whirlwind that drifted upward into the purple and
blue twilight. I rubbed my hands together. It was Christmas Eve, and
it was bitter cold. I sighed deeply, my breath fogging the air. From
the streets of London below the airship towers, I could hear the
holiday revelers singing Hark!
The Herald Angels Sing.
The scent of roasted chestnuts perfumed the wind. My stomach growled
hungrily, and I began dreaming of the mug of mulled wine waiting for
me at my favorite haunt, Rose’s Hopper. Nothing sounded better than
sitting in the corner of the tavern, drinking Christmas Eve away.
Leave the roasted geese, plum pudding, and midnight mass to all the
joyful mums and dads and fat-cheeked children. Tonight, I would
drink. Tomorrow, I would race.
The balloon of the Stargazer
shifted in the breeze. I’d already started strategizing. Cold air
meant the balloon would get better lift which we could use to our
advantage, but flying in snow was annoying as hell. Not that it
mattered much. I knew what to do. I’d run in the Yuletide Airship
Race since I was a girl. What made the 1820 race any different? I
wasn’t going to let a little snow get between me and the fat stack
of coins waiting in Calais. This year I would win for sure.
I pulled out my little bottle
of laudanum. My fingerless gloves were good for more than just
gripping the wheel of the Stargazer.
The cap on the laudanum bottle was always annoyingly tricky. With
shaking hands—the chill of the wind, of course—I undid the lid
then took a drop. I quickly stuffed the bottle back into the pocket
of my wool trousers just as Angus came out of the gear galley.
“Bloody hell! I think my
balls are frozen,” Angus said with a laugh as he attempted to
smooth down his kilt. “Are you done fussing, Lily? The ship is set
to go. Let’s head to the Hopper. Jessup is probably half-drunk
already.”
Grinning so hard the muscles on
my face ached, I asked, “What possessed you to put on a kilt on
this freezing night? And don’t tell me you’re commando in this
kind of weather.”
“What kind of Scotsman would
I be if I wasn’t natural underneath? And didn’t you see my
festive adornment?
Instead of a sporran hanging
from his waist, Angus had tied a bunch of mistletoe. “Christ,
Angus. What…what the hell,” I choked out, laughing so hard I
started to cough.
“All that opium smoke is
burning your lungs, lass. Now, let’s go. If that buxom Rebecca
isn’t at the Hopper tonight, I think I’ll cry,” he said with a
grin, extending his arm to me.
“Well, you can always hope
for a Christmas miracle,” I replied with a wink.
Angus and I headed to the lift
that would lower us from the airship tower to the city street below.
As we rode downward, I gazed out across the city. The rooftops were
covered with a powdering of crystalline snow. The gaslamp light made
everything sparkle. The waves on the Thames twinkled with golden
light. While the revelers had moved off, I could hear their dulcet
tones from a distance. They were singing Silent
Night. It really was
Christmas Eve. I gazed up at the darkening sky. One shining star—was
it the north star?—glimmered. I wondered, just for a moment, about
Byron. Where would the illustrious George Gordon, Lord Byron spend
Christmas Eve? What shenanigans would he be up to? I hadn’t heard
from him for more than a month. Who knew where in the world he was
and what misadventures he was wrapped up in. I missed him.
“Happy Christmas,” Edwin,
one of the tower guards, called cheerfully when Angus and I reached
the bottom of the lift. “Here, Lily,” he said, tossing a package
to me. The brown paper package was warm to the touch and smelled
heavenly: honey roasted walnuts.
“Happy Christmas! And thank
you. Want to come to the Hopper with us?”
Edwin shook his head. “Shift
is about to start. Get some sleep tonight! You damned near had it
last year,” he reminded me encouragingly then headed to the lift.
I sighed deeply, looped my arm
in Angus’, and we headed to the tavern. I clutched the small
package of walnuts against my chest. Maybe the laudanum was already
playing with my emotions, but Edwin’s small gesture moved me. It
wasn’t like my foster fathers, such as they were, ever saw fit to
give me a Christmas gift. I hated to admit how much I adored
receiving even small things like Edwin’s gift. They felt like
affirmations of love.
Angus and I crossed the
snow-dusted cobblestone street to the tavern. The gaslamp outside
flickered, casting blobs of orange light on the ground. Inside,
someone was playing the piano very loudly, over-striking the keys.
Raucous voices sang Christmas carols. Over the crowd, I could hear
Jessup, my teammate and balloonman, singing Here
We Come a-Wassailing.
“Christ, sounds like someone
is squeezing a cat,” Angus said as he pushed the door open.
“That’s Jessup,” I
replied with a giggle.
Angus winked at me. “I know.”
“Stargazer!” Several of the
tavern patrons erupted in cheer when Angus and I arrived.
“Just in time,” Ollie, the
tapster, yelled. “Lily Stargazer, get over here! We were about to
parade the Yule log! Come for a ride! It will bring you some luck
tomorrow. Come on, Lil’!”
They had just hauled in the
Yule log from the back and were adorning it with holly boughs. Snow
dripped from the bark onto the stone floor.
“Not me,” I called back.
“Make Angus ride!”
“I can’t ride in a kilt.
The bark will chafe,” Angus retorted with a laugh.
Without another word, Angus
threw me over his shoulder and carried me across the tavern. The
patrons cheered. I was hanging on haphazardly, but Angus set me down
on the log gently. For all his brawny shenanigans, I knew Angus would
be careful with me. He and Jessup were the only men I trusted—save
Byron, in his own way—and I loved Angus like a brother.
“Okay, okay,” I said,
situating myself on the log like it were a horse. I sat astride,
Yankee style. I gripped the gritty, wet bark for dear life, seriously
wishing I was already drunk.
“Got it, gents?” Ollie
asked. “One, two, three!” They heaved the log into the air.
Laughing, I clung to the log as
they careened around the room. Once I felt stable, I waved to the
patrons, princess-style, as I made the tour. All the usual faces were
there, other airship jockeys looking worn down from running
transports in the freezing wind, some travelers waiting to hop the
next airship, and a handful of tinkers. I even spotted one of the new
tinkers, an Italian, who had recently set up shop at Hungerford
Market. His name was Salvatore something, but everyone just called
him the Italian. He winked at me, lifting a mug of wine in toast as I
paraded by. I smiled at him. Nice looking chap. I needed to find a
reason to stop by and meet him.
I spotted Angus crossing the
tavern toward Rebecca. The moment she saw the mistletoe hanging from
his belt, she burst out laughing. A pretty girl with curly brown hair
and red cheeks, she seemed like the kind of woman who could keep you
warm for the night and make you a hearty breakfast the morning after.
Maybe Angus would get his Christmas miracle after all.
When they finally stopped in
front of the fireplace once more, they helped me off the broke into
the traditional Yule log song. The men loaded the heavy log into the
fire:
Old lady ash, you’ll burn
so bright
And light the way for all
the night
Mistress Yule, keep away the
cold
And help us burn away the
old
Mother forest, bring us luck
Cleanse away the mire and
muck
This Christmastide let
dreams come true
Make your wishes on the Yule
After that, the patrons threw
small sprigs of herbs into the fire with the Yule log. I saw Mary,
the ever-cheerful barmaid, kiss a sprig of parsley, close her eyes,
then throw it into the flames. If I knew her right, she was wishing
for a way out of the tavern—preferably via someone male dressed in
velvet and silk. A basket of herbs and flowers was passed around. I
took out a small purple flower. I wasn’t keen on superstition, but
I pressed the flower into my palm and closed my eyes: let
me win tomorrow…and let me see George soon.
I tossed the flower into the fire. It crackled as it burned. I sighed
heavily. Around me, everyone was smiling and feeling cheerful. They
had even roped me into the merriment, but the feeling had been
fleeting. In the end, I felt…detached. It was like the joy everyone
else was feeling was always just out of my reach. I was always racing
after bliss. My whole life seemed to be filled with chasing, not
catching, butterflies. Sure, I’d had moments of passion or the
thrill of an opium high, but I’d never known true contentment. That
was something reserved for other people, better people.
Ollie pushed a mug of mulled
wine, a Smoking Bishop, into my hands. “Happy Christmas, Lily,”
he said, kissing me on the cheek. I watched as he made his way
through the crowd, passing out more mugs filled with the steaming
nectar. The scents of orange, cinnamon, and cloves wafted from my
mug. I sipped the liquid, burning my tongue. The drink left a sharp
aftertaste of spice behind. Tonight, the tavern smelled divine. The
scents of the pine boughs decorating the fireplace mantle, the baking
gingerbread, and the mulled wine, fragranced the air. The scents
delighted the senses, but still my heart felt empty.
I cast a glance at Jessup, my
teammate. He was still lingering by the piano.
“Lily, come sing!” he
yelled to me.
I smiled fondly at him, shook
my head, then headed for a table in the corner near the fireplace. I
wiggled into the corner bench and proper my feet up on the chair
closest to the fire. I pulled my gloves off then unwrapped the crinkly
brown paper on Edwin’s package, popping a toasted walnut in my
mouth. I savored the sweet flavor, chewed and swallowed, then washed
it down with wine. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the
wall. My whole body felt tired. Beside me, the fire roared. I could
hear the wood popping and crackling. It was such a sweet, calming
sound. The radiating heat warmed me; I had felt frozen deep into my
core. When I opened my eyes again, I grabbed the mug, the wine now
cool, and finished it. No absinthe for me tonight. It was Christmas
Eve, after all. Even the green fairy needed a night off.
Ollie brought me another drink.
The tavern patrons had started dancing. They waved for me to join
them, but I shook my head. I watched as the Italian rose, set a few
coins on the bar, then headed back into the night with the
rough-looking aircrew of the Mockingbird.
Where was he off to with that motley troupe? Just as he was about to
exit, he turned, smirked slyly at me, then left. Yeah, I definitely
needed to find a way to introduce myself to him. Later. After the
race.
I gazed back across the tavern.
Everyone was having so much fun. Angus’ mistletoe had done the
trick. He and Rebecca were already lip-locked, and he was putting a
firm squeeze on her backside. Jessup was surrounded by boozy revelers
who sang song after song. I loved a good party, but tonight I
felt…lonely. How could that be? I was surrounded by people I knew,
whose company I enjoyed. And it was
Christmas Eve. I smiled as I watched the revelry, but my chest ached.
My mind kept rolling back to Christmas Eves past. Never, not once,
had I had what others would consider a normal holiday. Certainly not
with my foster fathers. And before that, we kids at
the orphanage had never been given anything. As for my mother and
father in my distant memories…there were no memories, not good ones
anyway. I had no memory of feasting on roasted duck or receiving
nicely bundled gifts. Not once had I ever felt the magical glow of
love, something people talked a lot about, on Christmas. The holiday
made me feel really…alone. I pulled out my bottle of laudanum and
took another drop…and then on second thought, another. Soon, my
head started to feel drowsy. The lonely feeling drifted away. Soon, I
felt nothing…what better gift was there on Christmas Eve?
*
* *
Thank you for reading! Part Two
of this short story will be released the week of Christmas. Subscribe
to the author’s newsletter to learn more details on where to get
part two of the story!
If you are impatient to read the full story NOW, get it on Amazon US/UK!
If you are impatient to read the full story NOW, get it on Amazon US/UK!
If you enjoyed this brief look
into the life of airship racer Lily Stargazer and her crew, the main
characters of The Airship Racing Chronicles, you can find Book I of
the series, Chasing the Star Garden, on Amazon
Thank you so much to Karina for
inviting me to share this holiday tale with you! I hope you enjoyed
this little view into a steampunk Christmas in 1820 London!
GIVEAWAY
Melanie is giving away TWO of her ebooks in The Airship Racing Chronicles, Chasing The Star Garden and Chasing The Green Fairy to ONE commenter. The giveaway is international.
Comment below to win and good luck!
The winners will be chosen on Jan 2nd, 2015.
The winners will be chosen on Jan 2nd, 2015.
