Christmas in La Roche Percée

A short, unpublished Christmas Story

  Everyone still remembers the major storm that hit the coast of Brittany in early November of last year. After being warned by the weather service, the fishermen had to stay ashore for nearly a week. However, dozens of miles out at sea, oil tankers and large cargo ships had continued on their way, bravely weathering the raging elements. As it was battered by massive waves, a huge Indonesian container ship that was making the round trip between Jakarta and Rotterdam had, at that time, reported by radio that it had lost part of its cargo. But that's another story...


 - The string of lights isn't turning on, Mom!
Little Rémy, standing on a chair, had just finished decorating a simple fir branch that was propped up in the corner of the mobile home. He and his mother had found the old string of lights in a cardboard box—the same one that had been used every year for several generations. The child really wanted them because the light bulbs were unique and all different: Some were shaped like fruits, such as pears or bunches of grapes; others were shaped like dwarves in colorful clothes. One of them depicted a completely gray elephant, and another a white bear cub with a shiny coat.

 "- I think the little Santa Claus is burned out. Unscrew it and put this bulb in its place," his mother suggested, handing him a plain yellow conical bulb.
  The long string of lights then lit up, suddenly bringing a festive atmosphere to the simply furnished room in the bungalow. Rémy, however, looked very sad as he got off his chair. The little red-and-white Santa Claus-shaped light bulb carrying a sack full of colorful toys was his favorite.

  He immediately stuffed it into his pocket.
 "- I'll go to the Grand Bazaar and see if I can buy another one," he said.
 "- You won't find one," said his mother. "It's a model that comes from China. It hasn't been made for a long time."

  It's hard to say no to a child on Christmas Eve. The young mother took a few coins out of her purse.
"- Come back before dark," she said. "Take your bike and be careful."

  At the age of six, Rémy was already used to going shopping on his own in downtown Préfailles. We often saw him on his little bike, with a plastic bag hanging from the handlebars. The shopkeepers, who were well aware of the difficult living conditions of his single mother, were very fond of his big, bright eyes and his kind smile After putting on his red jacket and wrapping a wool scarf around his neck, the child got on his bike. He soon crossed the road at Pointe Saint-Gildas and turned onto the wide coastal path, which is closed to traffic. It was nearly five o’clock, and a biting wind from the northeast was chilling his cheeks. A cold sun, low on the horizon, struggled to pierce through the thick layer of purplish-red clouds. The tide was still quite low. Just off the coast, towering over the exposed foreshore, the imposing, dark arch of La Roche Percée loomed over the shoreline.

  Rémy was struck by a sudden idea. He leaned his bike against the seaweed hedge and scrambled down the cliff, scrambling over the rocks. He wanted to watch the sun set along the axis of that natural arch, which couldn't be seen from the top of the trail. The descent was easy. He jumped onto the sand of a small cove facing the enormous archway. There, sheltered by the cliff, the air was milder.
 The child walked over to the Pierced Rock and spent some time making the sun appear and disappear in the hollow of the large archway, depending on the spots he had chosen. The sea was calm, and the waves of the rising tide lapped at the base of the natural arch.

  Heading back toward the sandy cove, Rémy ran along the coast toward a sea cave he knew well. It was one of his favorite places to play. At this spot, the raging sea had carved a deep hollow into the cliff. The wide entrance was littered with large boulders that had fallen from the ceiling, and the cave extended about twenty meters beneath the coastal trail. But what made it so interesting to the child was its little window, as he called it. There was indeed an opening in the right side wall of the cave, two meters above the ground, along the tiny crevice. From the outside, it was easy to reach and slip inside, thus entering a dark world where all the adventures brimming with the mysteries of his vivid imagination took shape. Rémy climbed up the rocks, slipped into the opening, ran to the sandy bottom of the cave, and tested his balance on the large boulders that had tumbled down, made slippery by a thin layer of green algae. Stepping out through the porch, he walked the same route ten times, twenty times. He was, in turn, a pirate, a knight, and a rock-climbing champion. He stormed a fortified castle, rescued prisoners, and escaped from monsters that were trying to take advantage of the shadows and the falling darkness to grab him and hold him captive. In each of his adventures, he triumphed over the forces of evil. Rémy was invincible.

  He didn't truly realize how much time had passed until he found himself surrounded by the rising tide as he tried to step out of the porch. Night had fallen. The waves were already crashing inside the cave, their thunderous roar echoing off the black shale walls all around him. Turning back, the child tried to escape through the side opening, through which a patch of gray sky was visible. He stuck his head in, but the waves were already crashing against the base of the rocks. The hero of so many perilous adventures was trapped, a prisoner of the sea, the night, and the cold.

  "- Mom!" he cried, bursting into tears, his body half hanging out of the cave's window.

  It was a cry for help filled with fear and anguish, ending in long sobs drowned out by the roar of the surf.
  With a lump in his throat after long and futile attempts to alert a hypothetical passerby on the coastal path, Rémy gathered his courage and decided to face the monsters of the darkness. He then went back inside the cave, which was beginning to flood, and, carefully feeling his way along the wall, made his way toward the sandy floor. There, the ground seemed higher than elsewhere. He found a large flat rock and climbed onto it, standing up, hoping to avoid being swept away by the tide, he leaned against the back wall. Before him, through the gaping doorway, he could make out the dark sea, over which a leaden sky stretched. But above all, he was afraid that the waves now crashing into the cave would reach him. He remained in that position for a long time, then, overcome by the cold and an irresistible urge to sleep, he finally sat down on the rock. Still leaning against the rock, he pulled his knees up under his jacket. At every moment, the terrifying roar of the nearby waves roused him from the drowsy slumber into which he was sinking.

  How much time had passed when he woke up? The sea had fallen silent. No sound reached him anymore: An icy silence had followed the din, and it was pitch black. He could no longer even see the entrance to the terrifying cave, and fear gripped him once more. He was very cold. As he tucked his freezing hands into his pants pockets, his fingers suddenly brushed against the small light bulb from the string of fairy lights.
  Because his legs were bent, he was afraid of Breaking it and wanted to put it in the pocket of his jacket. It was as he carefully pulled it out of his jeans that he was delighted to see that, there between his frozen fingers, the little multicolored light had just come on. It shone brightly and now lit up the entire back of the cave.

  "- Well, well," the child said in surprise, "I thought it was done for!"

  The little glass Santa Claus was warm and was warming his frozen hands. Rémy stood up slowly, and by the light of that extraordinary magic bulb he was holding between his thumb and forefinger, he saw that the sea level had dropped. He could probably have left the cave, but the night was so dark that it terrified him. He then noticed a large, shiny object at his feet. Sealed inside its clear packaging, an adorable little teddy bear lay nestled between two rocks. Its two big blue eyes and little black nose seemed to smile at the child. The animal was adorned with an elegant bow tie made of bright red fabric.
Rémy then realized that Santa Claus hadn't forgotten him.
  With his heart full of joy, he quickly unwrapped the unexpected gift, returned to the flat rock, and, pressing the teddy bear tightly against his left cheek, with the magic bulb in his right hand, he waited patiently for daybreak.

  The first light of dawn was just beginning to illuminate the cloud cover when he woke up and finally decided to leave his nighttime shelter. The light outside was soft and pale. Everything was silent. Still clutching his teddy bear and his little flashlight—whose light now seemed pitifully dim—he approached the cave’s entrance. Outside, everything was white. A thin layer of snow covered the rocks and seaweed. The sea had receded not far away, all gray at the edge of an ocean of white. An overwhelming sense of joy filled Rémy's heart. Snow! The first snow of the year had fallen overnight. It was, without a doubt, the magic of Christmas once again. He then glanced to his left at the dark mass of Roche Percée. And that was when he got the biggest surprise of his life.

  Standing at the foot of the natural arch, his first impression was that a large truck had crashed there during the night. The gray metal container seemed enormous to him. It was lying on the rocks, with the double rear doors wide open. And all around, scattered in the snow, were a multitude of small colorful packages that brightened up the white landscape.

                                                    ***

  It wasn't quite nine o'clock when the two police officers finally spotted the little blue bicycle leaning against the snow-covered hedge along the coastal path. Together with the entire Pornic police force, they had resumed their search at dawn. With their hearts pounding, expecting the worst, they approached the edge of the cliff and scanned the shore below. It was the huge gray wreckage of the smashed container at the foot of Roche Percée that first caught their attention. Then one of the officers pointed out to his colleague the numerous small footprints in the snow covering the surrounding rocks. They seemed to be coming from the cove and were all converging on the monstrous metal hulk, as if a swarm of children were heading toward it.
 The police officers carefully made their way down the slippery rocks and approached the small, snow-covered sandy beach. The sight that met their eyes left them speechless.

  Leaning against the rocks that lined the cove in a semicircle, hundreds of stuffed animals of all kinds had been arranged. There were teddy bears of every color and size, each wearing a multicolored ribbon around its neck. They hadn't been taken out of their clear plastic bags and all seemed to be staring at the center of the cove.
 And there, under the watchful eyes of all those teddy bears, lying on a huge pile of stuffed animals, a little boy in a red anorak was sleeping peacefully with a smile on his face. He was clutching a cute little white teddy bear and holding a tiny glass Santa Claus in his hand, which seemed to give off a faint silvery glow in the rising sun.

 But this last detail is not included in the gendarmerie's report.