THE ADVENT CALENDAR

December First

It was winter, but the library was warm and soft, and smelled like yellowing paper. It was a scent that had grown long familiar to Click, the little brown mouse that had taken up residence inside the computer-room, inside one of the warm computer-towers, where she could watch the visitors searching for books to read. She was a year old, and she knew well the rules pests must obey: to never be seen by humans, and to reject them as they had rejected the pests, despite her fascination. Her home was well hidden and she was small, unseen as she went to go look for food. The seed from the birdfeeders outside, usually, though she sometimes stole from the library’s seed-lending program if she felt especially bold. She liked to rip open the little envelopes.

She indeed felt so bold, and had taken one of these packets, full of mint, and was chewing thoughtfully on the sharp-tasting seeds as she sat by the window. The outside had grown so white and quiet, and as she watched the snow flutter non-committally down to earth, she hardly noticed the approaching human, ready to sit by that very same window, digesting the words of a book. She only scarcely noticed the reflection in the glass, and darted down the main hall of the library in a panic. She had strayed so far from her computer- where would she go? Someone would spot her scurrying.

But from inside a little hollow in the wall, by the entrance to the children's wing, a tiny voice beckoned her: “You can hide in here. There's room enough for a mouse!”

December Second

It was the voice of a wolf spider. Click had never spent much time with spiders, but she knew she was much too large for this one to eat, unlike the little bugs and insects of the library- a web would be at worst a sticky annoyance. And so, she ran into the little crevasse in the wall and watched as the towering humans passed her by.

“Thank you for your hospitality. My name is Miss Click Dormouse,” she extended a paw. “I am The Spider Solitaire, but just Solitaire is fine. It is more... concise,” the spider said, placing a pedipalp on Click’s tiny claw. “The winter is cold, isn't it? I am glad of the warmth, here. I dread facing the snow, again.”

“Have you seen winter before, then?” Click asked, tilting her head. “I am only about one year old, or thereabouts. I don’t remember...”

“I have, outside the library. It was a bleak, bleak time. It is ironic, that we pests are safest in the dens of those that hate us,” Solitaire mused. “Humans fascinate me,” Click admitted. “I like to watch them, and I like to watch the snow. It all seems just so peaceful.”

“So it does,” replied Solitaire, and in that moment, they became friends.

December Third

After a long and introspective conversation with the strange spider, an afternoon spent flywatching in the window, and another little hunt for food, Click made her departure and scurried away to her computer-den as the library prepared for closing-time, putting up strange baubles- perhaps a ward for the winter, she thought, watching the humans as she went along. But a strange, keening sound in the air made her stop in her tracks in the main hall, as though transfixed in the evening light. She sat up, whiskers twitching, and listened. She knew little of humantongue, which the song was certainly written in, but the exquisite beauty of the music had set her shivering regardless. She could only make out two words- silent, night. And suddenly, the library was aglow with tiny electric bulbs, as if stars had come down to fill its halls for a celebration of night.

She had never seen the humans do anything like this before, and she knew that she must find Solitaire once more and tell her of this strange celestial convergence, as the only pest who had shared in her fascination. But perhaps that would wait for tomorrow, as she felt dreadfully exhausted, and she curled up inside the computer once more...

December Fourth

When she arrived back at the crack in the wall, she told her everything in a great rush.

“Perhaps it is their human way of celebrating,” Solitaire said thoughtfully. “I wish we could celebrate in such a grand way,” Click sighed. “Hmm... Maybe some of the other pests know more. I have not been living in a humanspace for long,” Solitaire replied. And so off went Click, in search of knowledge. At first she asked the roaches who lived in the nonfiction section, who had little information, just as confused as she was. Then the moths, and the flies, equally fruitless despite their shared fascination with the lights. And so she glumly sat down on the windowsill, watching the flying insects buzz around the little tamed stars. But then she spotted Miss Clover across the room, and scrambled to her side. If anyone knew, it would be her- she was an elderly mouse, about two years old, who had lived both with and without the humans for some time. She was stern, sure, and Click did not much like her, but if anyone had information it would be her. And so she asked of these odd customs. “How do we celebrate... like they do?”

“How could you ask such a thing? Spreading your nonsense throughout the library!” Clover hissed. “We are pests. We are killed and tormented by the humanfolk. How can you have such reverence for their ways? They are wicked, mindless beasts that care for nothing! Celebrate?!”

“You’re right, I suppose,” Click relented, hoping to avoid further argument. “You’d risk our lives, to do such things,” Clover’s whiskers twitched. “I am glad you could see at least some sense.” And winter felt colder than ever, then. But there was one more pest to ask, as eccentric as he was. All she wanted, now, was to learn of that strange beauty.

December Fifth

The Bookworm lived at the top of a large bookshelf of encyclopedias, and he was the only pest who knew how to read, which he did so by ruminating (in a very literal way). “Hmm, let’s see... holidays, winter... No, not Valentines,” he chewed thoughtfully on the words off the page. “Lights... trees... snow... Christmas! A Christian holiday celebrating the birth of Christ, whoever that is. Traditionally associated with gift-giving, decorations, caroling and feasting. Is that satisfactory, my lady?”

“Oh, yes, yes! What a wonderful and generous celebration. I wish we animals of the library could decorate a tree, share in a feast, and exchange gifts, and simply be together in peace. Surely humans cannot be so terrible, if they love each other that much.” Click thought back to how cruel and territorial Clover often was to her, and winced. She had seen the way the humans thirsted for knowledge, and read to their young, and gathered in this wonderful place. She wished, briefly, that she had not been born a tiny furry thing, but could walk among them and share in their revelry. She recalled an old friend, Clear, who had been caught in a mousetrap, neck snapped.

No. It never could be.

December Sixth

And so, she confessed her woe to Solitaire, in the tiny hole in the wall: she could never dance, and celebrate, and give gifts like those of mankind. “If only they could be kind to things like us, too! Just as they are kind to each other,” Solitaire sighed, cleaning her thorax. “Perhaps they would invite us too.”

“It's impossible. Oh, maybe Clover is right about me... It's a foolish wish. I’ve seen the traps they lay out for creatures like us,” Click responded. “You are not a fool!” Solitaire replied, but Click would hear none of it, and sadly returned to her computer despite the spider’s attempts at consolation.

December Seventh

Solitaire was soon to follow her to her little computer-home. “I think you need some comforting,” the spider trilled. “If it counts for anything, I found a little gift for you. It shall be our own little Christmas, in a way.” Bound up in spiderwebs and trailing behind her was a tiny plastic angel, so like the one perched on top of the tree in the main hall of the library.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Click’s whiskers twitched with excitement. “A celebration all our own... We could find a pine-branch and dress it up like a tree... And little beads and baubles!” An idea was beginning to take form. “Clover may not like it, us adopting their strange ways, but we do not need humans to do so, nor do we need their human Christ,” Solitaire chittered with some satisfaction. “Why shouldn’t pests have a holiday?”

December Eighth

That next morning, Click shared her and Solitaire’s idea to Quartz-Wing, one of the beetles that avoided human sight in the dark corners of the library. Quartz-Wing was a daring little bug who was always up to a challenge, and was immediately interested when she heard of the Bookworm’s involvement, as they knew each other well.

“Beetles can chew through wood, yes? I’m interested in bringing a small pine-branch back to my nest.” Click tilted her head. “Oh, yes, yes!” Quartz-Wing chirped. “I would be happy to help you.” Together, they snuck out of the heavy, swinging doors of the library and, with Quartz-Wing riding on Click’s furry back, they ran to the courtyard-garden, a large fir tree towering over it. “Fir branches are thin, so it should be no trouble,” Quartz-Wing said, and flew up to a nice-looking twig and began to chew. Click watched anxiously, and then jumped as she heard the cracking of the wood as the little branch fell through the air. “Watch out,” Quartz-Wing called from above, floating down on her little wings. Click lept up and caught the twig in her mouth. “We’ve done it!” she squeaked happily. “This shall be our Christmas tree!”

December Ninth

She returned with the branch rather quickly and was happy to note that the mid-morning was still young- she had the rest of the day to relax, and plan. And so she returned to people-watching, as they poured over their books and whispered among themselves, always just slightly too quiet for Miss Click to hear. But then, she heard it: a snapping sound! Some woman’s bracelet had been caught on something, and beads spilled over the floor. Perfect, shiny baubles... Exactly what she had wished for. How fortunate!

But no doubt the librarians would come to clean up the beads, and the little mouse knew she must act quickly if she wanted to collect them. And so, she did, dodging heavy, thudding feet, not even brushing against the humans, never being noticed, and she collected up five of the beads in her mouth and ran. Suddenly she heard a shriek- the woman had spotted her!

Thankfully, she was already halfway up the desk, and she leapt into her computer den in an instant. She knew she wouldn’t be found here. They never thought to check inside the computers.

December Tenth

And so Click had everything but a gift- a gift for her dear friend Solitaire. They had only just met, but bonds grew fast when lives were so short. But being so small, it was hard to think of what a little spider would want, or even find useful. They made their own webs, so thread was unnecessary. Many of Click’s favorite snacks and objects were too big for the tiny creature to enjoy or otherwise useless.

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling lights, where moths and flies crowded around the heat and brightness. If only there was a way to bring those lights down into Solitaire’s nest...

December Eleventh

She went out to stare at the decorations again, thoughtfully. The strings of lovely fairy-lights were so captivating, setting the large Christmas tree aglow, like something not of this world.

If only she could take these strings of light for herself! They were so pretty, and would aid Solitaire’s hunting most wonderfully. Where on earth did the humans get them? They were everywhere. And crucially, how would Click take them without them noticing?

She needed to follow her curiosity to the bitter end.

December Twelfth

She of course went first to the Bookworm, and he shared what he knew of the outside, that little battery-powered light strings could be found in little human shops. “Oh, thank you, Bookworm!” Click said profusely, but the task of finding a human shop- and such a great and awful journey- was a hardship all its own.

She went out to the library garden to eat her lunch, and her eyes wandered across the street. With what little humantongue she knew, she sounded out the letters on the distant signs. “Dollar Store”, one said. A human shop! How fortunate a mouse am I! And the road was not wide. This was it. She would procure the gift as best she could.

December Thirteenth

The road was not busy, but any car could flatten the poor mouse in an instant. She was not particularly fast, and hardly experienced in this regard. She had only crossed a road once before, but she knew to wait for a break in the traffic and scramble across the asphalt, letting terror fuel her. And as the road grew quiet, she did, scampering as fast as her claws could carry her.

Alarm rang between her soft ears as she heard tires screeching down the road, an unexpected vehicle hurtling towards her at full speed. She froze, ready for death- and the car zoomed over her, passing her by. She hadn’t been in the path of the wheels... Click let out a sigh of relief and crossed the final threshold. It was time to look for the little lights.

December Fourteenth

The crowded place was a mess of strange smells and sounds. She scurried between heavy shoes and along little shelves unseen. The boxes and containers on the shelves all had pictures of the objects inside, so it would at least be easy to tell based on the colorful packaging. In the electronics section, she finally found one: a tiny box with a string of battery-powered lights. It was heavy, but by the little plastic tab on top, she was able to pull it off the shelf with a light thump noise.

One of the humans turned to look at her, and she squeaked in alarm. She had to run! She scampered out the door as quickly as her legs could carry her with the little box in tow. “Safety at last!” she shook with relief. But the road loomed large, and she had one more crossing yet to make.

December Fifteenth

The road was quieter, now, and the journey was without issue. Now she had to hide away the present without Solitaire seeing it, and ruining the surprise... She scampered through the garden courtyard to where the big doors were cracked slightly open, and silently groaned as she saw Clover tapping her claws on the ground, blocking the way.

“You almost got yourself killed. Your behavior has been just erratic lately! You know what you’re risking every time you’re about to be seen. If one mouse is found, the rest are killed. Remember that, Click... Remember that.” Clover said snippily. “Now come back inside. And stop dragging that ridiculous thing around!”

“I will, in a moment,” Click promised, and watched Clover go, grey fur bristling. She followed from afar, taking her little present up the stairs into the computer room. Finally, she had returned home...

December Sixteenth

She sat there, with her little pine branch, decorated with beads, with her little box and her tiny angel. She had everything she needed. Why did her celebration still feel so... empty?

Perhaps it was simply that friends were meant to dance together, in times like these. She recalled her visions, of playing with the roaches, singing and feasting, and when all else was done, exchanging gifts with everyone in the library. It wasn’t right, when it was just her.

Suddenly, though, she heard a scratch at the outside of her home, and she poked her snout out to speak with her visitor.

December Seventeenth

“Good evening,” said a tiny voice, and in an instant, Click felt her dismay ebbing away. It was Solitaire! She poked her nose out of the computer-console. “Oh, hello! Um... Don’t come in. I have something I’d like to keep a surprise.”

“I understand,” Solitaire nodded. “But I simply must speak with you. Now that I have your present, I realized... Why should it be just us? Other pests have helped us to get the things we need, no? So I shared news of our plans. The humans won’t be in the library on Christmas eve or day. So... I think it will be a much grander feast than we anticipated. I do hope that’s alright!”

“Oh, Solitaire, that’s wonderful! Quartz-Wing and the roaches and the Bookworm and everyone... It’s just what I wanted,” Click squeaked. “Yes... Tomorrow, on Christmas Eve...”

December Eighteenth

On the night of Christmas Eve, every pest and bug and rodent and creature gathered in the main hall underneath the massive human tree. “A feast, to commemorate this day! What the humans have deprived us, we now claim as our own!” announced the Bookworm. Three of the rats dragged in a massive bag of birdseed, which slouched over on the floor with a galumphing sound. Still more brought abandoned food from the trashcans and whatever they could find.

The pests of the library gladly shared the foodstuff among themselves, all achatter. They had feasted like this before, certainly, on those days when the humans weren’t there to catch them. But this was different; they had, more potently than ever, a reason to gather.

December Nineteenth

Darkness hummed through the library as evening fell, and like clockwork the tiny glowing lights were turned on, as though on a timer. This is it, Click thought. It’s really human Christmas. I did it! Everyone looked so happy. Even Clover looked like she didn’t totally hate it. She looked around wildly for Solitaire. She hadn’t seen her all night and was quite eager to find out what she thought about all this.

She has to turn up. Spiders are just small, is all. There are a lot of bugs in this library, Click assured herself, but before she could go looking, the Bookworm announced, “The gift exchange has begun! It is time to show your kindness, as the humans do!”

December Twentieth

The pests of the library all gathered around the glimmering, gloaming tree and handed between them little trinkets- bits of food, hair-ties, tubes of glitter-glue from the arts and crafts room, and more. Miss Click handed out some of the spare beads she had collected from the broken bracelet, and kept scanning the crowd for Solitaire.

“Oh, are you looking for me?” Click whirled around. There she was- with a little temporary web spun inside of the branches of the humans’ Christmas tree! Inside she had her various gifts wrapped in silk so she could easily take them back to her nest. “I received so many lovely presents, and met so many wonderful friends. I never used to leave my little nest very often before, but it’s nice to be surrounded with such joy.”

“That’s wonderful!” Click squeaked. “I actually have quite a large present for you, I stored it in my house... I’ll go get it!”

December Twenty-First

She quickly scurried back with the box of little lights in tow. “I saw the way the lights attract spiders-prey, and I knew I must find some for you. You can turn them on with a little switch, it runs on human batteries and it’s easy to find more up in the office drawers. I thought you might... like them...?”

Solitaire waved her pedipalps around excitedly. “What an excellent gift. Mine is quite large as well... The beetles helped me hide it under the tree.” Descending on her silk thread, she led Click down to where a book was hidden. With her limited knowledge of humantongue, she could make out the title- “AN ENCYCLOPEDIA OF HOLIDAYS AND CULTURE”. Beside it was a hand-spun spider silk shawl. Click put it on happily, and inquired, “What sort of book is that?”

“The Bookworm recommended it to me. It will tell you all about human celebrations... He said he would give you reading-lessons as well, if that’s alright,” Solitaire explained.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Click spun around, delighted, and the two danced together, pedipalp-in-paw, like that moment would never end.

December Twenty-Second

The feasting went on for hours and hours, in that night of freedom without any humans to catch them. Bathed in the electric light, there was not a single dusty corner that hadn't been danced in. As the festivities died down, Click sat by the window and read, absorbing as much of the words as she could and breathing in the woody scent of the pages. Humantongue was such a fascinating language... She could hardly believe that this impromptu celebration had gone so well.

Clover came to find her by the window. “I apologize,” she said, plainly. “I acted the way I did out of concern, for myself and for the library. I have seen the ways humans deal with pest-problems. But perhaps you were right, for us to have just this one night...” She looked away, unable to meet Click’s gaze.

“It’s aright. Things worked out in the end, I suppose!” Click shrugged. “It was always about us. Never the humans.”

“Maybe so,” Clover nodded, and scurried away into the darkness. “You were a good egg, really. I’m sorry I didn’t see that, and mistook it for foolishness.”

December Twenty-Third

And so, the celebration faded away with the dawn. Click sighed contentedly, looking out the window at the shell-colored sunrise. She had plans to hide away her gifts in Solitaire’s den (as there was only so much she could fit inside the computer-tower), but the library wasn’t going to be open on Christmas day, so she was in no special hurry. And so, she watched the dawnstreaked sky go by, at peace.

“We have such small, short lives,” Solitaire said, skittering up to sit beside her, eight eyes contemplatively staring. “Not many of us are remembered. Your average mouse sees maybe one or two winters.”

“I suppose so,” Click squeaked. “I had one worth remembering, I think... I think I am happy. I’m already a year old, so I don’t know if I’ll see another. Not every mouse gets as old as Miss Clover. I hope the mice that come after me get to experience things so wonderful. How long do spiders live?”

“Females like myself... About three years.” Solitaire’s spinnerets twitched contemplatively. “I’m about two.”

“Then you’ll have to promise you will remember me next winter,” Click grinned. “And keep telling stories, alright?”

And so, a promise was made. And so, for the next countless winters, stories were told, pinky-mice listening closely to their mothers about the night that the library was filled with light and joy through the whims of one persistent, eccentric little rodent, Miss Click Dormouse, and her dear friends.

It was perhaps the greatest story the library held.

~ Christmas Eve ~

The Christmas Tree has appeared! Click it to go to the Christmas party!