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A Child’s Christmas in Wales, by Dylan Thomas

One Christmas was so much like the other, in those years around the sea-town corner now, out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve, or whether it snowed for twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.

All the Christmases roll down towards the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged, fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs. Prothero and the firemen.

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-Fall is here!-

Or “autumn” if you’re snooty/English. Here’s a recap of what we’ve done in the last month or so:

Published great stories by Garret Schuelke, Angelica Garza, William Clarke and Robert King.

Added a “Send to Kindle” link at the bottom of every post.

Added a great new editor to the team, Dylan Bennett.

Moved to a new web host. Thanks, a small orange!


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Drop us a line! thousandonestories@gmail.com.


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