There wasn’t the slightest hint of life anywhere on Fifth Avenue: no people, cars or lights, and certainly no signs of Christmas. The streets were dark and ominous, disturbing to view, leading only into tunnels of alarming shadowy bleakness, where all life ended. The buildings were windowless and faceless, dusky with indefinite shapes. It was as if a dark catastrophic cloud had descended, covered the sun and snuffed out the light of any life—except for the single blue spotlight that illuminated St. Patrick’s Cathedral. A sudden and sharp wind swept in and blew the red cap from Jennifer’s head. It skipped and bounced away into the darkness, like a flat stone across a lake. Jennifer was disoriented, sick and lost. As she looked about, fear seized her by the throat and seemed to pull her toward dark tunnels of despair and death. But then she heard it. The ringing of a single bell. A single bell ringing caught Jennifer’s attention. It wasn’t loud or close, or coming from the church.
