Twelve Gifts and Broken Things
By Michael Nwanolue (Noble_Roar)

The harmattan came three weeks before Christmas. It was on a Tuesday, 9 o'clock GMT+1 in the morning to be exact, when you and your fellow wind spirits watched as the dust laden winds they unleashed swept the earth. You giggled at the exasperated curses and hisses of office workers whose files and papers took flight, and laughed at the unlucky market women who chased after their fleeing umbrellas. You smiled at the happy shrieks of school children as they ran outside and breathed in the sweet chill of Christmas.

You had always enjoyed looking at the lives of the mortals, had always loved to watch them grow and die and grow again. And the other spirits never let you rest because of it.

"What do you even see in them?" one had demanded. It was a rain spirit and it stood with its hands akimbo, a spectacular robe of thunder and lightning flying from his shoulders.

You had simply smiled and nodded and agreed that you were weird. You knew that the other spirits were puzzled by you. That even the gods struggled to comprehend you. But you never stopped looking and you never stopped wanting.

You and the other wind spirits turned away from watching the earth and looked to the raised platform where the sky gods supervised the proceedings. As always, Igwekala, Sango and Amadioha had declared a truce, saying that the beginnings of seasons were too important to be disrupted by petty quarrels. It was an old practice of theirs and you knew that sooner or later, they and their wind spirits would be back at each other throats – to the detriment of the mortals who would hold solemn conversations over a particularly harsh dry season or a never-ending thunderstorm. Gods were gifs, sooner or later they would go back to where they started.

Some of the wind spirits preferred the scorching breaths of Sango or the subtle devastation of Igwekala's winds. But you'd always like Amadioha best. He was strict, but only when he needed to be and of all the sky gods was the coolest headed and contained.

You turned away from the gods and looked and it was then that you saw him. He was young, barely out of his teens and he standing on the balcony of a one storey building. He was absentmindedly watching the ambling vehicles below him. There was a sadness to him that held you like a vice and so you looked deeper, into his soul, and learned his name.

Munachi. It beckoned to you and you cradled the name in your inconsequential hands and smiled. Munachi. You laughed and repeated it until the other wind spirits stared at you. But you didn't care and you turned back to your not at all creepy stalking.

You watched as his father came home drunk and beat his mother with a belt, and when Munachi tried to intervene, winced as the blows came landing on him too. You watched as his father, sober in the morning, promised to never lay hands on them again, only for that promise to go flying out the window when darkness fell. This time Munachi didn't intervene, he'd learned from last time. Instead he ran to his room, locked the door and wept.

You wanted to help, wanted to act so bad it was an ache on your immortal soul. But you were a gentle spirit. You didn't have the fire of a drought spirit, or the lightning and fury of a rainstorm spirit. But you made sure to hound the father when he staggered off to work and for a long time phantom winds made anything not nailed down prone to launching themselves at him.

The other spirits weren't happy with this new obsession of yours, and though they discussed about you at length, but they made no move to stop you.

"It'll learn," they told one another when they thought you were out of earshot. "It will soon learn the foolishness of caring for mortals."

But you had much more on your mind than what your former friends were saying. It was one week to Christmas and Munachi and his mother had surprised you by running away from the one storey house. You hadn't known that they'd been searching for accommodation, but you watched over them protectively as they moved to their new home, and blew away their tracks when the father tried to follow.

The next day the father's relatives arrived to make peace and you worried, puzzled as to how they'd so easily tracked Munachi and his mother down. But the relatives were on the woman's side and as they left, they pressed little gifts into the grateful hands of mother and son. The father arrived two hours later in a car that belched smoke profusely and after engaging in a shouting match with his former family, drew their bags from the car boot and flung it out with a vindictive violence. Munachi and his mother didn't come out until they were sure the father was gone and together they carried up their belongings into the shaggy, rundown house.

It was Christmas Eve.

You knew that there'd be no slaughtered chickens, no pots of stew boiling away on a kerosene stove. There'd be no Christmas carols or clothes, no visits to friends and family. Nothing at all to mark that Christmas had come. It wouldn't be possible. Not when Munachi had just turned eighteen and both had no jobs.

The landlord, a miserable man, was coming to shout at them for his money. They had promised to pay within twenty-four hours of moving in and he wanted it now. What did he care that tomorrow was Christmas? How was it any of his business that the family had very little money to spend? And so as he jumped into his posh Jeep and drove towards the rundown house with the shabby walls, you didn't feel too guilty about the gust of dust that leapt into his eyes. The accident was a minor one, but he would be bedridden for at least a month. Plenty of time for the family to get themselves together.

But you knew it wouldn't be enough to have a Christmas without a heartless landlord. It had to be special, something they'd remember for a very long time or they'd never heal. And as you circled the rundown house, invisible to the mortals below, you heard a particular Christmas carol and knew what must be done.

The next day, Christmas day, mother and son awoke to find a cake baked in the shape of a partridge in a pear tree sitting on their kitchen table. Alarmed, they rechecked the windows and doors, but they hadn't been disturbed (you didn't need windows to operate) and after praying over it, they took it for a miracle. That Christmas was not very exciting by any stretch of the word, but the cake was delicious and it wasn't as gloomy as it could have been.

The second day, it was two turtle doves made from clear plastic that they found. The mother promptly threw them away, muttering something about witchcraft and forces of darkness, but you placed it back, along with a message that read:

IT ISN'T NICE TO THROW AWAY GIFTS.

"Who are you?" Munachi demanded while he comforted his quivering mother, but the only answer you gave was a cool breeze ruffling his clothes.

On the third day, they were awakened by the squawking of three hens that you'd really gone to France to get. Apparently resigned to the inevitable, the mother cooked pepper soup and Jollof rice with the chickens (after praying over them for at least two hours). She used up almost all of her money doing it, but they ate well that night and when they went to sleep, it was with full bellies and a satisfied smile.

On the fourth day, Munachi found four animatronic birds resting on his bed. They sang Christmas ballads and carols and occasionally called out insults when people passed by his window. They amused him, those birds, and you grinned when despite his mother's protests, he kept them.

The fifth day had Munachi's mother screaming at her phone. There was an alert on it, a five figure number in her account, with the name of the sender showing up as Mr. Golden Rings. Munachi called the bank's customer care, but they said that they couldn't track the mysterious benefactor down.

"But anyway, shouldn't you people be thanking your God for what he's done for you?" asked the customer care lady when Munachi had stubbornly pressed on. And that was what the mother did. She asked God to bless you and swore to use the money wisely. Her prayers amused you, but you didn't mind when the Big Guy reached across the dimensions (after asking for and receiving permission from the various deities involved) to answer her prayers. The blessing gave you a power boost, which more than made up for the favours you were using up to bestow these gifts on them.

The six day saw the arrival of six ceramic geese with little golden eggs arranged around them. They were so beautiful, Munachi's mother commandeered all of them, save for one, and arranged them in prime spots around her room. Munachi, who seemed to had caught onto the pattern, thought aloud what they were going to do when the next day's gift arrived and you laughed at his alarmed tone.

But the fears he worried never materialized and instead of live ones, on the seventh day, you sent them seven slender necked glass swans.  They lasted until midmorning, before a visiting tenant's baby broke two of them while its mother gossiped happily with Munachi's mum. You were furious (you had struck a deal with a leprechaun for those swans), but Munachi and the baby's laughter stayed your wrath and you contented yourself with making the glass glow when no one but the baby was looking. It was also New Year's Eve and together, mother, son and the neighbours announced the new year with fireworks and loud shrieks. You stayed with them while they made their New Year's resolutions and grinned when they promptly broke it five minutes later.

The mother went out on the next day and returned with a newspaper advert that she saw lying on the road. It said that it wanted a 'woman with a good head on her shoulders' to work with them. The company's name was Eight Maids Milk Industries and it had mysteriously opened quite recently and incredibly, was open on New Year's Day. The mother announced that she was going to try out for the manager's position. She did, after all, have a degree in Business Administration and their luck was currently bursting at the seams. Needless to say, she got the job.

On the ninth day of Christmas, you sent them nine music boxes that played a soft, heart tugging music. The ladies that danced when the opened the boxes were intricately detailed brass statuettes and when you smiled and leaned in for a closer look, you saw Munachi start, almost as if he'd caught a glimpse of you. You knew it was impossible but all the same you took to staying just out of his line of sight.

On the tenth day, ten animatronic lords drove the family almost to madness. They jumped and leaped and quarrelled loudly with the four calling birds, who were only too happy to find new sparring mates. The neighbours wondered what was happening, and when they came to investigate, the lords and birds declared an alliance and attacked the birds. The family and neighbours also formed an alliance and for a long time, the dust covered yard was filled with outraged shrieks and laughs as they fought off the animatronics. When they were finally defeated, in vain did the family look for the 'off' switch, but as you felt guilty, you temporarily shut down all of the robots.

You chose something subtler for the eleventh day. The family was going shopping and everywhere they went, they found someone playing a trumpet or a flute. It puzzled them at first – Nigeria wasn't exactly known for its street performers – but when they counted eleven pipers, they knew that the eleventh gift had come. That night mother and son discussed about their mysterious benefactor. They knew that the next day, the twelfth day, would bring the last gift and they wanted a way to thank you for it. After bandying about several ideas, both went to their rooms and thought over you. Munachi looked out at the window at the night sky, a vague, half formed idea dancing in his head.

"Who are you?" he asked again and closed his eyes and sighed when the chilly wind you sent caressed his face.

At last, morning came, and the family exchanged puzzled glances over the giftless house they woke up to. The neighbours were also ready. They had heard about the mysterious gifts and adequately prepared themselves. Who knew what mad thing you'd decide to unleash on them next? Especially since it was the last day. And so after they confirmed with the family that there was nothing in the house, they went outside and looked around. Perhaps your gift was one that happened outdoors. But they found nothing. The mother shrugged and started to prepare, because it was a Monday and she couldn't be late for her first day of work. Munachi though, wore a disappointed look and every twist of the wind made him turn hopefully around.

He was sitting in his room when he first heard the soft whisperings of the carol. Frowning a bit, he opened the door, went outside and found the neighbours and some passers-by gathered round the house. Twelve human drummers were playing in the front yard. Behind them stood the music boxes and the swans and the pipers and all the other material gifts. Together they played an awe inspiring rendition of The Little Drummer Boy. When they were done Munachi had tears in his eyes. The gifts bowed and vanished into glittering streams of light (to the horror of the neighbours and curious passers-by who screamed and fled) and the boy went back into the house and halted. There was no doubt about it. He was definitely seeing you.

You didn't know how it was possible, but you were suddenly worried about what he'd think of your swirling, dusty form, the sheer unnaturalness of it. You turned and made to flee, but he called out and you waited.

He came up to you and stared at you, and hesitantly touched your ever changing face with his hand.

"Wow," he said and under his touch, you began to change.
Your winds died down, the dust solidified into veins and organs and flesh as you grew a human body. You were surprised by the sudden weight between your legs, the strength in your arms and chest. You had thought in the times you'd dared think of being with him, that he'd want you as a female (for as a spirit, you weren't too bothered with the concept of gender).

"I dreamed about you," he said and his grin was infectious. He waved his arms around vaguely. "All this. Was it you?"

You nodded and tried to speak, but human speech is hard, and all that came out was a nonsensical babble.

Munachi laughed and you frowned, but then he took you in his arms and you forgot your anger and hugged him back.

"I dreamed about you," he said again and the sound of his voice made you smile. In the back of your head you could hear the gasps of the other wind spirits, their voices raised in shocked disapproval. But you blocked them out and focused on learning how to speak. Your powers were still there, though it was a bit dampened and you used it to learn.

"Who are you?" he asked. "What is your name?"

You took a deep breath and told him everything and by the time that you were done it was past noon.

"Wow," he said, staring at you in wonder. He hadn't let go of you, almost as if he was afraid you'd fly away if he did. "Tell me your name."

You hesitated for a moment. It had been so long since anyone used it that remembering it was hard. But then it came to you and you said it.

"Ikuku," he repeated. "Wind. I like it. My name is Munachi."

You told him that you already knew, that you'd been watching him for some time, then almost immediately wished you could sew your mouth shut. But Munachi didn't instantly flee in the other direction like a sensible person. Instead her said: "I'm flattered." And your immortal heart melted.

He took you by the hand and began to lead you to his room. "We'll find you some clothes first," he mused and it was only then that you noticed that you were naked. "And then you'll meet my mom. She's so going to freak out."

She really did freak out when she met you, and for a long time after that you had to endure sneak attacks with holy water and crossed.  But she soon warmed quickly to you and by the time the dry season rolled around, you were practically family. And every Christmas after that, you exchanged gifts with one another. Twelve gifts for the twelve days, and though it wasn't as grand as the first gifts, you loved and were loved, and that was what truly mattered.

Some of the other spirits, resentful of your new found happiness, tried to attack Munachi. But after you tore one of them asunder, they learned to mind their business and stay away. The neighbours never liked you. There was just something about you that rubbed them the wrong way, and when they found out about you and Munachi's relationship (thanks the amebo attitude of one of the children), their dislike calcified to hatred. But you didn't care and soon, you guys moved away to a better location anyway and left them to rot in their ignorance.

It's been fun recounting this story of yours and if you're passing by, why don't drop by the House of Life? It's changed a lot since you were last here and I've got some friends I know would love to meet you.

P.S: I got a patron god! And me and my friends saved the world. So that's two more reasons why you should visit!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

From Chioma Nworah, Priestess of the House of Life.

About Michael Nwanolue

Michael is one of those people who probably shouldn't be trusted with power. He lives for fantasy and SciFi works and daydreams of becoming an excellent programmer. He wishes to one day own a dragon and would love it if you'd stalk him on twitter.