AMARIS: The Moon Child

By Arlene Belmont

Amaris, the Moon Child is a sequel to the author's first book, Happenstance. This Christmas tale begins with the solitary life of Amaris, the twin brother of St. Nick-aka, Santa Claus. Amaris lives with his mean stepmother, the witch, on top of Mount Hermon by the Sea of Galilee. When Amaris was twelve years old, he grew feathers. This rather odd condition allows him to fly! Since he needs to molt to grow new feathers, he must live in a very cold climate. Mount Hermon's chilly mountain air is the perfect environment and allows Amaris a place to fly in isolation from the rest of the world. Amaris fears humans as the witch convinced him all human contact is dangerous, and if he were caught, he would be eaten! After the witch's death, Amaris discovers a handwritten note scribbled by the witch explaining how, through trickery, she stole him at birth from his natural parents and that he actually has a twin brother! Alone, abandoned, and isolated, Amaris decides to take a chance and seek his brother, hoping a reunion will bring a sense of belonging. This story takes the reader on a wild journey through the perilous desert, where Amaris encounters desert creatures and a little girl named Ruth. Ruth teaches Amaris not all humans are harmful and even gives him a clue on his twin brother's whereabouts. The story is about redemption. The reader will learn through Amari's trials that although our past does affect us, it does not have to define us. We can rise above our current circumstances and find fulfillment and a place of belonging. Amaris teaches us a brighter tomorrow awaits us if we will let go of our inner fears. We just have to believe.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781644683316

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AMARIS: The Moon Child

Arlene Belmont

ISBN 978-1-64468-329-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64468-330-9 (Hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64468-331-6 (Digital)

Copyright © 2020 Arlene Belmont

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Covenant Books, Inc.

11661 Hwy 707

Murrells Inlet, SC 29576

www.covenantbooks.com

Table of Contents

Beginnings

Delivery

Deception

Regrets

Freedom

Departure

Flight

Destiny

Homebound

Loss

Hope

Dedication

This story is dedicated to my loving husband, our four children and six grandchildren for their love, wisdom, grace and inspiration to encourage my passion for writing family friendly stories for the child in all of us.

Foreword

It is said of many books, there is no end. It is also said, As something begins is how it goes. Like the wind, a story moves in whatever direction it sees fit not certain where it started or where it will end.

Prologue

Long before you were born, legends of St. Nicholas’s birth traveled the world. What sparked his desire to give gifts to little boys and girls each year on his birthday? To understand his passion, you must first discover where this spark of love grew to the point where all children around the world eagerly await his birthday, December 25.

If you are ready, I’d like to share the birth story of Old St. Nick. The story is not for the faint of heart. Are you ready to venture back in time to see how this legend began? It is a mystery long forgotten, but ripe to be revealed.

Part 1

Happenstance

Beginnings

The story of St. Nick begins in a small village way east of the Garden of Eden where a seed of love grew between two people—Clara Marie Be and Christian Time. Clara chose to be called by her nickname, Mary. Christian, a short stocky lad, seemed an unlikely candidate to wed Mary, a beautiful maiden. Although different in many ways, Christian Time’s love swelled for Mary. In time, they married and forged a strong family bond. Marriage fit them like a comfortable shoe moving in unison serving one another.

As the days flew by, and their love grew, Mary felt the flutter of life in her belly. Father Time and Mother Time were expecting a baby. The thought of a baby Time excited them and laughter filled their home. Christian Time, quite the yodeler, developed huge lungs and would bellow through song his happiness until all of the villagers would mutter to themselves, Whatever fuels that man to be filled with such joy? Of course, both song and lyrics produced many a smile and was ever so contagious. Mary, a faithful listener, chuckled to herself and even the baby growing in her belly flipped somersaults.

But, an odd thing happened, Mary’s belly grew bigger and bigger and bigger. Father Time felt tiny impressions of feet stretching Mary’s tender belly. It was actually very funny to watch. Father Time placed his ear to Mary’s belly and listened to the gurgling sounds of Mary’s tummy and felt the rumblings beneath.

Mary’s belly grew so large, Father Time resorted to wheeling her around in the garden wheelbarrow. He plopped her in, handed over his work belt, and tooted her around as he worked from one job to another. He was a master fixer upper. He tackled any job whether it was fixing broken fixtures, patching leaking roofs, or even fixing broken toys. Father Time was so quick at fixing things, his patrons marveled at his speed and efficiency. It was not uncommon for someone to stop and rub Mary’s big belly while observing Father Time. So, even before baby Time was born, all of the village eagerly awaited his arrival.

Delivery

After nine and a half long months, Mary Time went into labor. It was a very long labor, and it did not go well for mother or child. Father Time, who could fix anything, could not fix this situation. He did not have the tools to make the birth go easy. He realized he needed to seek help. But, the village being so small, did not have a doctor. So, in desperation, he decided his only option was the village witch. He knew of her but had never actually met her. He heard others speak ill of her and recount stories of her unreliable potions and brews. But, for Mary’s sake, he would do anything. So, he told Mary, I will be right back. He bolted out the door and down the forest path running as fast as his feet could travel toward the witch’s hut.

As he approached, he noticed the dilapidated latch of the rod iron gate and made a mental note to remind himself to come back to fix it. He quickened through the gate and knocked on the worn out front door. Clearly, it needed sanding and a fresh coat of paint. After two rat-a-tat knocks, the door slowly creaked open and out poked an old weathered women with a crooked smile, rotten teeth, and two tiny blood shot eyes barely visible through a sea of wrinkles. The old witch grumbled, Why are you disturbing me at this late hour?

Father Time bellowed, My wife…she is in labor. I can fix a lot of things but not this. Her labor is difficult, and I am in need of medical aid.

The witch replied, I am no doctor. But, for a small fee, I can conjure up a spell or two to bring the child forth.

Father Time pondered for a second but quickly nodded, Yes, fine, whatever your sum. Please, she needs your help.

The witch replied, Let me get my bag, and turned toward the long counter throwing in all sorts of jars labeled funny names like toad toes, spider legs, cat guts, squirrel tail, and bird feathers. With the bag filled, she flew out the door scurrying behind Father Time.

Father Time looked back and said, Please, hurry. We don’t have much time.

The witch replied, If I knew you were in such a hurry, I would have brought my broom.

At record pace, they arrived back at Father Time’s home, and Mary Time was still in much pain and no baby in sight.

The witch pointed at Father Time, You, get me some water, and make sure it is warm.

Father Time flew into action.

The witch observed Mary and decided a spell was in order. She pulled out her magic wand and spun a circle over Mary’s belly saying, Itch and tug, itch and tug, pull this baby from the tomb and out of the womb.

The spell took hold and Mary began to push. The baby slowly emerged with its hand planted against his head, followed by another arm, legs, and two tiny feet. The baby’s flesh, although pale, responded to a tap on the butt and bellowed a long strong cry. As the witch wrapped the baby in an old swaddling cloth, she peaked over at Mary and saw the belly move and heard Mary groan.

Father Time rushed in with the water and saw the beautiful child in the witch’s arms. The witch placed the baby in Father Time’s arms and proceeded to check on Mary. As the witch pressed on Mary’s belly, she saw another baby emerge. As the witch caught the child, she screamed, This child has no face!

Father Time ran toward the little baby and placed his large finger on the baby’s face. With the warmth of his hand, a veil of skin popped, and revealed a beautiful baby with a face just like his brother. Father Time said, Sure, he has a most beautiful face, see!

Taking it all in and touching each of his new son’s itty bitty feet making sure to count all of their toes, Father Time’s heart grew bigger. As he inspected each child, he whispered, You are beautiful, and you have your mother’s cute nose and heart shaped lips. He smelled their newness and planted a big fat kiss right on each baby’s forehead.

Deception

With all of the delivery commotion, Father Time finally turned his attention to Mary. He immediately noticed her pale appearance. He placed his hand on her forehead, it felt cold to the touch. He felt for a pulse to no avail. Tears streamed down Father Time’s face as he stroked her hand. He realized the labor stole Mary’s soul. She was gone, and Father Time, consumed by sorrow, wept.

The witch stood by and observed without any words of endearment. She moved her head back and forth as if to shake off the moment. The witch gathered her potions and stuffed them in her bag as she commented, That’s enough of that…my work is done here.

As she packed up her things, she began to envy Father Time. Why should he have two sons when she had none? And, she recalled a legend about the powers of a child born without a face. She pondered and turned to Father Time and said, You have a lot on your hands. I can help tonight. With all of your sorrow, let me take one of your sons for the evening and feed him, and you can come pick him up in the morning. For what can you do with two crying hungry babies and a dead wife?

When one suffers loss, wisdom often fails. Sorrow has so much lint. Father Time’s grief overtook his reasoning, and he let his guard down and agreed to the witch’s idea. He said, Just for the night?

The witch crossed her fingers behind her back and said, Of course, I am only helping out. And, I’ll even waive the labor fee.

Like a thief in the night, she ran over to the twins and looked them both