The Christmas Maze: Where Hope Is Found

By Danny Fahey

As a little boy, Matthew watched as the stranger drove away in the Valiant, with his sister sitting in the passenger seat on their way to get them a puppy. As the Valiant turned the wrong corner, Matthew realised there was no puppy—his sister had been kidnapped. Now Matthew must find and save her. To do that he must solve the Christmas Maze because if you solved the Christmas Maze then all that you wished for would come true. All he wished for was for his sister to be safe and at home. Of course, finding The Christmas Maze would be the hardest thing he had ever done... Solving the Maze harder still...

• Language: English
• Publisher: IFWG Publishing International
• Release date: Nov 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781922856210

Book preview

The Stolen Voice

24th December 1947

Every Christmas, Gary and fifteen other children in the school choir were sent away to the summer retreat at Rye. It always began with the trip in a bus with the other boys. Some of them were loud and happy. Perhaps they hoped this year would be different. Some were new kids. They had no idea what lay in store.

The days at the beach were okay. The boys could forget their worries as they swam, played cricket on the beach, or lazed around soaking up the sun. Gary swam a lot. He would lose himself for hours in the water.

The nights at Rye were terrible. Dinner in silence. The Crow would not allow any talking at the table. Board and card games were played out with a brittle cheerfulness. Then supper and chocolate éclairs. The smell of a chocolate éclair made Gary retch.

It was always after the chocolate éclairs. The Crow would eat two or three of them, his stomach pushing against the fabric of his black coat, each button threatening to pop.

Each éclair would finish with The Crow licking the cream off his fingers. All the boys watched. After his hands were cleaned of cream, he would look around the room with eyes as small and dark as any crow’s. The Crow would either take another éclair or he would call a name. Any of their names. Each of their names at least once. Every name, but most often Brian. In the five years Gary travelled to Rye, Brian was The Crow’s favourite. Little blond-haired Brian who smiled all day and sang like an angel. Brian who cried alone most nights.

A special treat then Brian, songs for me in the room, while you have your voice. The Crow would smile and add as an after-thought, if you still have your voice.

Then those black eyes would look at the other boys and The Crow would demand, For the rest of you, time for prayers. The boys would rush for the door, desperate to exit the room. All except for the boy whose name had been called.

Come along, Brian, come along. Everyone else to bed. Lights out in ten minutes.

Christmas and terror went hand in hand for Gary. The sound of boys, hardly daring to breathe, fearful they would be the one called…and then…then the name called out. Called to the dark room. Called to sing. He was never a favourite, but he was called occasionally.

All year Gary would push those two weeks out of his mind and carry on as if normal. It was always a shock when the time came again for the trip. For five years Gary would holiday every two weeks from early December. The first time, when he was a novice, that was the worst. He didn’t know the rules. He didn’t understand what happened in the room. Not for a few days anyway. Two of the older boys eventually explained.

You have some days, rest up, enjoy them.

Yeah, said the other boy, he always starts with us older boys.

Or his favourite.

And what secretly hurt and had for all the many years since the beach trips, was that Gary never became a favourite.

Sometimes The Crow would call his name. Gary, tonight you can sing for me.

How Gary hated that his heart would leap at being chosen, even as he dreaded the hour or two that he must endure.

Monster calls to monster, The Crow often explained to Gary. A statement Gary could not forget. It whispered in his dreams. It lingered at the back of his throat, scratching at the notes when he sang. It stopped him from speaking about The Crow to anyone but the other boys at Rye. He believed it was true. Monster did call to monster.

The Crow first said it after Gary had sung the first time. Sung until his voice was no more than a croak. Sung while The Crow sat in his chair that had extra-long legs, so that The Crow appeared to be on a perch, as he devoured Gary’s voice. Grew fat on Gary’s clear, concise notes.

Afterwards Gary, head bowed, defeated, tears falling, stood before The Crow who remained perched on his chair, swallowing the echoes of Gary’s voice.

Don’t cry, The Crow cawed in that horribly full voice he used after the devouring. It can’t be helped Gary. Monster calls to monster, and we know we are both monsters. I just happen to know my form, the form of The Crow. By the time I have taken your voice so you can no longer sing, you will know your true form.

The first year Gary did not call home because he was too scared. Then returning home, he wanted to say something. But how to tell his parents who believed in the priest’s goodwill that Father Gould was The Crow? A monster who called his name sometimes, but not often enough. A monster that made him sing and then devoured his voice. How to explain that he was no one’s favourite, not even a hungry crow’s.

The Wrong Choice

5th December 1964

It was a clear night. Splashed across the deep blue velvet of the sky, the stars dominated. Matthew could remember once or twice sitting outside with his brother Billy and their dad, who had hold of the star guide—a circular cardboard contraption that could be spun around to match months and time with the night sky—pinpointing constellations amongst the mass of shining lights above.

In 1964, the saucepan shone so bright it could not be missed. The seven sisters also, huddled together as if whispering a secret. All the stars shone bright in the days of Matthew’s childhood. He remembered the search for the Southern Cross and Orion’s belt (the saucepan but the other way around).

1964, Glenroy, a burgeoning suburb for a new time. A different time. A time of innocence and hippies and flowers and music. It was three years after the Russians put a man into space. It was the year The Beatles came to Australia. Matthew remembered the news showing all the screaming girls at the airport. It was a hot summer and Christmas was close. It was the last time Matthew ever saw Lucy.

Matthew, and his sister Lucy, bored with the television, were outside on the front lawn while their mum prepared dinner. Both of them in their pyjamas and bare feet, loving the feel of the grass between their toes even though they knew when they went inside their feet would itch like crazy.

The first game Lucy and Matthew played that summer’s evening was Fly. It was a game Billy made up (or so he said) and taught Matthew, who had in turn taught Lucy.

You placed sticks, lined up close together, in a row across the ground. Each player then swiftly stepped through the spaces between the sticks to the end. It didn’t matter how many sticks; you made the row as short or as long as you wanted. At each passage, moving as fast as you could, you had to try and not touch a stick with your foot. Each stick touched had to be removed and so it got harder and harder to jump between the sticks (you were only allowed one step though Lucy often took two or three). So large did the gaps grow, you had to imagine you were flying as you leapt to land in the space between each of the sticks. It was a simple game. There was no reason to go as fast as you could, but Matthew and Lucy did. If someone touched a stick it was removed, penalising both players. The point of the game was to imagine you could fly. The game ended when someone could not clear the expanding space between the sticks with one step.

Lucy won. Matthew always let her win just as Billy had always let him.

Next, Lucy and Matthew played the spinning game. It was an even simpler game than Fly. The two of them spun themselves around and around. It was something they often did when they found themselves outside on those majestic summer evenings gifted to children before Christmas. The stars hung above the two of them like lights on an invisible tree. Looking up as he spun around, Matthew watched the big, big sky wheel around above. It seemed so big in those days.

It was a warm summer’s night, only twenty days out from Christmas (Lucy made Matthew count them down—they started from the first of December). Perhaps it was the knowledge that holidays were near and winter was distant. Perhaps it was the longer days and the sounds of birds and cats and dogs and the feeling that the world was so much more alive. Or perhaps because everyone was friendly in the weeks leading up to Christmas Day. Whatever the reason, Matthew and his sister spoke to the stranger that evening.

The two of them were outside playing when the man in the Valiant station wagon drove by. Later, Matthew remembered the man’s curly brown hair that hung in scraggly curls down to his shoulders. There were some things he could remember and a lot of things he couldn’t. He could recall that the man’s hair was wispy on top so that man pushed it across from right to left to hide his emerging baldness. So many details were lost, but some remained, frozen as if kept in a glass globe like the Christmas snow paperweight Matthew’s mum brought out each year to rest on the shelf near their Christmas tree. Matthew loved that snow globe. He shook it and shook it again before he stared into the falling snow, imagining he was inside, safe in the winter wonderland.

The reason he and his sister were playing out on the front lawn and not the back was due to progress. All the backyards in Glenroy were full of deep trenches ready for the new sewerage pipes. That meant the back yard was out of bounds, especially at night—see how things conspire so that certain events happen in a certain order? There is little that can be done but make the right choices when you get the chance. That was where Matthew believed he failed. He made the wrong choice that night when the stranger pulled up to the curb in an old Valiant outside eighty-three West Street, Glenroy.

Matthew and his sister had been spinning, round and round and round until one of them cried out Stop! and they would stop and stagger about, heads spinning, legs like jelly as they fell, laughing, to the grass. From the ground, their arms spread wide, they would stare up at the spinning stars above and laugh at the weird way everything spun, including their stomachs and heads. It was a silly game that Lucy loved.

The two of them had just climbed back to their feet for the umpteenth time to go again at spinning when Matthew saw the stranger’s Valiant pull up. He watched as the car parked, clumsily. The car’s front left wheel hit the curb, something Matthew’s dad never did when he parked. The car was sea-green in colour with cream-coloured fins and the wood panels that ran along the side. The interior had two bench seats that were red, as was the steering wheel.

The driver waved one of his hands at Matthew as he came to a stop, keeping the other hand on the steering wheel. Next, the stranger lent across and reached out to wind down the passenger side window. When the window was down the stranger called out. He kind of yelled and whispered at the same time. The man’s eyes looked all around while he kept waving to the two children to come closer.

Hey, you kids! You want a puppy?

Matthew and Lucy couldn’t hear the man clearly. The two children just heard the word puppy. It stopped the game. It drew them two steps closer to the wire fence.

You want a puppy? Such a simple question. A simple set of words directed at two innocent children.

Two or three times, the stranger might have asked if they wanted a puppy. Each time drew the children closer until, without thinking about it, Matthew and his sister had wandered across to the small wire fence that separated their front yard from the street.

Sorry, where are my manners, firstly, hello to the both of you, said the man in a cheery, whispering voice. My name is Gary, you should know that, okay. Gary, and I live just around the corner.

In Isla Avenue? Matthew asked.

Exactly, Gary replied.

Do you know the Monahans, they live at number 4 Isla Avenue? They live in the white house, Matthew asked again.

The white weatherboard house, in Isla avenue? Gary replied.

Yep, that’s the one, said Matthew.

Why yes, I think I do, Gary replied confidently. He smiled at Lucy and Matthew.

How come I’ve never seen you before? Matthew again.

Haven’t you? That’s funny, because I’ve seen you before. I think I have seen you around at number 4 Isla Avenue sometimes…playing there…

Yes, that’s right, Paul Monahan and I are friends.

I thought so.

I go there too sometimes, said Lucy

I know you do, sweetie, said the man, and he smiled at Lucy.

So, you know anyone who wants a puppy? He asked.

Matthew decided then and there that he would call the dog Buster (his mum had once had a dog called Buster, and she said it was the best dog ever). Matthew pictured Buster as mainly white but with some black bits including a black left eye. The thought of owning a puppy was all it took.

Lucy and Matthew had always wanted a dog. Their dad was against them. Mum had told them both numerous times that dad was a cat man. Matthew didn’t really get what she meant. Lucy thought it meant their dad had whiskers like a cat but Matthew knew his dad shaved so that wasn’t it.

Lucy had named their cat Speckled Batcat, on account of her speckled fur and bat-like black ears. The name stuck. According to their mum, and especially their dad, because they had Speckled Batcat, they couldn’t have a dog.

Now that we know where we each live, and we know we are both friends with the Monahan’s, let’s start again. Hello to you, to the both you, the driver of the Valiant said.

Hi, Matthew said back.

Hello, said Lucy, speaking through the wire.

What are you both doing? asked the man.

Spinning, said Lucy.

Spinning, thought Matthew, yes spinning still…out of control. I have been spinning ever since that night. That night—was it last night? A week ago? Matthew did not know. He was still the same size. He knew he had not grown…but he did not know time anymore. Time was just time after…after her disappearance. After Lucy…

Not much, Matthew said, he felt silly playing a baby’s game when he would soon be ten.

Till we fall down, added Lucy.

I remember doing that when I was a kid. I loved that…spinning and falling down…

And looking up at the stars, said Lucy.

Yes…yes…and looking up at the stars, the stranger said. Do you know I think that was my favourite part, looking up at the stars.

You mentioned a puppy? Matthew said. It was all he could think about.

A puppy? Lucy said, looking up at her brother, her eyes blazed with excitement—a summer’s warm evening, outside playing with Matthew, Christmas not far away and now a chance for a puppy. Matthew did not look at his sister. He did not see her hopeful, excited eyes. He was too busy looking in the car. He was looking for the puppy.

Where’s the puppy? Matthew asked because he could not see it.

It was such fun, spinning and stuff, the man said, ignoring Matthew’s puppy question. Spinning and falling down and then catching my breath and looking up at the stars.

The man smiled. He had big teeth, big and white, like a horse. On seeing those teeth, Matthew thought of the television show, Mr Ed, the talking horse. The man had teeth like Mr Ed.

After looking at their front door and then in the rear view and side mirrors, the man then asked the two children, Do you kids like animals?

We sure do, Lucy said.

And you? The man asked Matthew. Do you like anim­als?

Who doesn’t? Matthew replied, not wanting to let on that his dad didn’t. At least not dogs. Matthew didn’t think the man in the car needed to know that.

You know I am sort of in a pickle, the man said, after nodding at Matthew and Lucy’s replies.

Still, Gary went on, I don’t guess you can help…

We can, said Lucy. Mum says I am very helpful.

Try us, Matthew said. Try us and see.

Well, I am in a bit of a pickle…and I do need help…

What kind of help? Lucy asked.

I have too many of a certain kind of animal.

What kind? Matthew asked.

What kind would you want most in the world? the stranger asked back.

A puppy, said Lucy and Matthew nodded and said, A puppy for sure.

Well blow me over with a feather, that’s exactly the kind of animal I’m talking about. You see I’ve got some puppies, too many in fact, so many that I need to give some away, the stranger said. You don’t know anyone who would want a puppy, do you? That’s the help I need. I need to know if there is someone who wants a puppy?

Lucy squealed in delight. Can we have one? she asked.

That was all it took. As clever as spider’s web and the two children were just as stuck, snared, wrapped and ready to be devoured. They didn’t even know they had been caught. Lucy was jumping and clapping her hands with glee, the puppy already a reality in her head, as it was in Matthew’s. There was no way Lucy or Matthew were going to say no to the puppy, or to anything the man asked of them.

Can I see the puppy? asked Matthew.

Can I hold it? Lucy cried.

Oh, I haven’t got the puppy with me. The puppy is with his mummy back at my house.

Do you want me to come with you and get the puppy? Matthew asked. Simple as that. One mention of a pup and he was willing to get in the stranger’s car and drive away.

Listen, I’ll tell you the truth here, the man’s voice from the car replied. The puppy’s mum doesn’t like little boys, only girls. It would be best if you wait here and only the girl comes. Just the girl. Otherwise the mummy dog might bite you and then you couldn’t have the puppy. No need to worry. Like I said, I live just around the corner, that’s where the puppy is, so we won’t be long.

Matthew should have known better of course. He was supposed to be smart. He always sat in one of the three desks reserved for the three smartest kids in the grade, had since grade one when the system at his primary school began. Lucy was only six, she had just finished prep, how could she know any better. It had been up to Matthew to follow the rules, but he liked puppies. Had wanted one just as much as Lucy, maybe even more and now, now everything was lost…and all for a puppy that Matthew suspected never even existed. It had all been a lie to trick them and Matthew had fallen for it. Fallen for it hook, line and sinker as his dad used to say.

That was the last time he ever saw Lucy’s smile. The last time he heard her voice or held her small hand in his. Matthew knew that he could feel it still, her hand but loose like it was slipping from his grip. Matthew kept reaching for her hand but it always slipped out and was gone. No matter how much he stretched out, how hard he tried to grab hold, Lucy’s hand eluded him…always.

Matthew remembered the man’s smell, a smell of something sickly sweet, some sort of aftershave or something, and the stranger’s eyes, not so much their colour, or their shape, just the intensity of them; the way they bored into Matthew. The intensity of those two eyes were forever burned deep into Matthew’s mind. Burned so deep he had lost everything else. He could hardly see anything else but those eyes. Even when all else was dark, Matthew could still see the man’s two eyes, shining…drawing him closer…hypnotising him.

But this is not about that night. Matthew didn’t want to go back there. He really didn’t. And anyway, he knew he could not. Not that Matthew remembered any of it. He was lost by then. Lost in a horror so deep it took everything else away.

Until that evening, the worst that had happened to Matthew were the two times he almost drowned. He vaguely remembers his hands flailing about trying to grab hold of something. It was the same now only his hands didn’t flail for a purchase on something, they wanted to find Lucy’s hand, they wanted to keep hold.

When Matthew thought of the stranger, he felt his throat choking. He felt words getting stuck in his chest. The words clogged everything so that he could not even breathe. He often woke at night. In the dark. Something wrapped too tightly around his body. Often it was just the blankets wrapped tight around his leg. Awake in the dark, Matthew remembered that night all over again. He tried to change the events that happened that night as he laid there in the dark. The horror making him want to scream. He did not scream. Instead, he tried to rewrite the script. He imagined himself doing the right things; he tells the man to go away and he keeps hold of Lucy’s hand. Matthew was lost that night, just as much as Lucy. He was lost.

Searching for The Christmas Maze

6th December 1964

Matthew understood that if Lucy was to be saved, he must be the one to save her. He was her only hope. That was when the plan began to form. A vague plan about a way to save Lucy and so save himself. Matthew remembered the story of The Christmas Maze, a story of hope.

Matthew had heard often enough from his