The Countdown Without Chimes

Benji loved the clock’s soft chime because it meant another December day was nearly done. Each evening, he and his older sister, Layla, sat together in the living room beneath the big round clock. Their Advent calendar hung just below it, with twenty-four little doors and a picture of a cozy house on the front.

“First, we open today’s door,” Layla would say. “Then we listen for the chime. Then it’s time to get ready for bed.”

Benji liked how the steps always came in the same order. The clock chimed gently, never too loud. It sounded like a tiny bell saying, “Good night, December day.”

On the eighteenth, Benji carefully opened the calendar door marked with an eighteen. Inside was a little picture of a candle.

“Only six sleeps until Christmas Eve,” Layla said, counting on her fingers. “Tonight, then five more after that.”

Benji smiled. Six sleeps sounded close enough to imagine, but far enough to make him wonder what each day would bring. He pictured the tree lights glowing and the family gathered together on Christmas Eve.

Their mom called from the kitchen, “Bedtime in a few minutes!”

Benji and Layla settled onto the rug beneath the clock. They were ready for the familiar chime. Benji leaned his head against Layla’s shoulder and listened.

The clock’s hands pointed to eight. The second hand stood still.

“Maybe it’s just thinking,” Benji whispered.

They waited. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the heater. Layla looked up at the clock. Benji looked up too.

No chime came.

Layla stood and reached toward the clock, then stopped. “It might need a new battery,” she said. “Or maybe it needs winding. We should ask Mom to check tomorrow.”

“But the chime means bedtime,” Benji said. He looked at the clock, then at the calendar. “How will we know when our day is done?”

Layla sat beside him again. For the first time all month, their bedtime signal had gone quiet. The little candle behind the open calendar door seemed to glow in the lamplight, but the clock above it said nothing at all.

Benji stared at the still second hand. It seemed strange for a clock to stop right in the middle of a December evening. He listened hard, hoping the chime might come late. The living room gave him only the heater’s hush and a soft rustle as Layla shifted on the rug.

“What if we don’t know when to start getting ready?” he asked.

Layla was quiet for a moment. Then she glanced down at the Advent calendar. The door marked eighteen was open, and the little candle picture showed clearly inside.

“Benji, look,” she said. “The calendar still shows the date. We know it’s December eighteenth, even if the clock isn’t moving.”

Benji leaned closer. “So we can still count?”

“We can count the sleeps,” Layla said. “We don’t need the clock for that.”

Benji’s shoulders relaxed. He held up one finger. “One sleep tonight.”

Layla held up five more. “And five after that. Six sleeps until Christmas Eve.”

Together, they looked at the calendar. Its rows of little doors seemed like a path leading toward the holiday, one day at a time.

“Let’s make our own signal,” Layla said. “I’ll say the number first. Then you say it with me.”

She spoke softly. “Six sleeps until Christmas Eve.”

“Six sleeps until Christmas Eve,” Benji echoed.

Their words rested in the room where the chime usually rang. Benji liked the sound of them. It wasn’t a bell, but it belonged to both of them.

Mom came in and found them sitting close together. Layla explained about the stopped clock and the calendar. Mom nodded. “Clocks can stop when they need a new battery or winding. I’ll help you check it tomorrow.”

“Tonight, we counted without it,” Benji said proudly.

Mom smiled. “Then you two have your bedtime signal.”

Layla and Benji took turns saying the count once more, slowly and softly. Then they went upstairs to brush their teeth and climb into bed. The clock stayed silent in the living room, but Benji carried their shared words with him: six sleeps until Christmas Eve.

The next morning, Mom checked the clock with Layla beside her and Benji watching from the doorway. She opened the back and found that the clock needed a fresh battery. After she put one in, the second hand began to move again.

“Tick,” said the clock.

Benji grinned. “It’s walking again!”

That evening, the living room looked just as it had before. The Advent calendar hung beneath the clock. The family’s tree lights twinkled in the corner, and a soft stripe of lamplight stretched across the rug.

The clock chimed gently at eight. Benji listened, and Layla smiled at him. Their old signal had returned, as sweet and familiar as ever.

But this time, they didn’t hurry away at once. They sat together beneath the clock and looked at the calendar door for the nineteenth. Layla had opened it earlier that day. Behind it was a small picture of a star.

“Five sleeps until Christmas Eve,” Layla said.

Benji raised his hand and counted the number on his fingers. “Five sleeps,” he agreed. “Even if the clock forgets to chime, we can still count.”

“And if it does chime,” said Layla, “we can count then, too.”

Mom called good night from the hallway. Benji and Layla went upstairs side by side. Their pajamas felt warm, and their room was quiet except for the whisper of the blankets as they climbed into bed.

Layla tucked her feet beneath the covers. Benji pulled his blanket up to his chin.

“Five sleeps until Christmas Eve,” Layla whispered.

“Five sleeps until Christmas Eve,” Benji whispered back.

The words felt cozy, like a small light they could carry together. The clock’s chime had begun their bedtime for many nights, but now their voices made the countdown theirs.

They pictured the calendar waiting below the clock, with its doors closing one by one as December passed. There was no need to hurry. Christmas Eve would come after the sleeps were counted, one quiet night at a time.

Benji listened to Layla’s breathing slow beside him. He let his eyes close, holding on to the number five and the promise of another little door in the morning. Under their blankets, the brother and sister settled into the gentle hush of the night.