a traveler from an antique land

The snow, newly fallen, covers the neighborhood, coating the world with a clean white blanket and the air with its crisp scent. It continues to fall, ever so gently, visible only in the light of the streetlamps. The moon is out, and beautiful.

Someone is singing: God rest ye merry gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay!
Remember when the ol’ Santy Claus
Flew down on Christmas Day-

Dogs howl. The singer, apparently oblivious to her more-than-passing resemblance to a choir of angry cats, has managed to hit six separate keys and slightly more sharps than there are in existence.

“I don’t think that’s right.”

The Doctor sighed and rested her caroling book against her leg. It really was no good taking Luke and his friends out caroling if they were going to correct her at every turn. “That’s the point, see,” she explained, carefully. “If I sang like this-“ (and here her voice became, apparently by some Christmas magic, a quite pleasant alto which could stay on key and sound very good while it was at it) “-Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green!, well, then, that wouldn’t be any fun, would it? And people wouldn’t give us all sorts of interesting things to make us go away. See?”

( Luke wrinkled his nose in vague objection. 'But I thought the point of caroling was to bring Christmas cheer to the neighbourhood by singing traditional Christmas carols.' )


Community: theatrical_muse
Prompt: 262 - Lines
Word Count: 802


Happy Christmas, everyone! :D