The Nigerian Libretto Magazine has published my short story Silent Night. The inspiration for this story comes from a street in Rapertingen (Hasselt) where residents put up a lot of Christmas decorations every year. Of course, I took the liberty of creating my own reality. Also, I gave the street a different name, so I can always claim that any similarity with existing facts or persons is purely coincidental.
“Unwanted seasons” is the title and theme of issue 12 of Libretto Magazine, a magazine from Nigeria that is published both on paper and digitally. Or as the editors so beautifully put it:
This issue explores the theme of unwanted circumstances—those unforeseen moments that disrupt lives—and the resilience or fragility of the characters as they navigate their responses.
When I read this, I immediately thought of my short story about Karel, a recently divorced man who hates Christmas, only to discover that his new home, where he hoped to find peace, is in the middle of a street where the Christmas madness keeps its inhabitants in a stranglehold for weeks.
Tendai Rinos Mwanaka writes in the magazine’s foreword:
Leen Raats’ Silent Night provides a vivid, almost photographic depiction of an American street during the Christmas festivities, capturing its subtle yet pervasive influence on the lives of its residents.
A nice compliment, and also a bit funny, because I didn’t have an American street in mind but a typical Flemish one.
You can download the digital version of the Nigerian magazine for free here.
Or read my story online .
Excerpt:
As he stands in line behind a woman carrying a power drill on her arm as if it were a baby and a man with a workbench, his gaze falls on a corner of the shop containing Christmas decorations. It consists of a shelf of Christmas lighting, silver baubles, and some wooden trees. For now, the selection is limited, pushed back behind mobile air conditioners, beach umbrellas, outdoor lounge sets, and barbecues with cool names like Turbo Grill Master XL. But if 51 years on this planet taught him anything, it’s that the Christmas madness is always dormant, only to flare up as soon as the last inflatable pool is deflated. Once the kids go back to school and the tan on our arms slowly fades, this corner, and thousands of shopping corners like this one, will steadily expand, like an inkblot on a piece of paper, continuing to grow until all that remains is a stubborn, white border.
He is that border.
Leen writes 
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