This is a Christmas story I've worked on over the years. It's an original, fictional story and I hope you enjoy it as I present it on a weekly basis.
Underneath the Tree - A supernatural tale of Christmas
Chapter One – "Homeward Bound"
Interlude – Christmas 1988, 4:30 AM
Drip. Drip! The sound was so quiet it was deafening.
For minutes that seemed like years, I had listened for that sound.
Please, oh, please let it start.
I’d toss and turn in the bed just loud enough so the creaks would make their way into Mom and Dad’s room.
They can’t still be sleeping – it must be five am already!
Finally, I had enough of waiting – I leapt out of my bed and stomped on the floor.
Surely that would get them up....Nothing!
Frantic, I ran over to their bedroom.
I didn’t know whether to cry or to yell or to poke.
They HAD to get up.
This was Christmas morning, and we must be the last family to wake up.
I decided the "poke" method would work best.
Dad would not budge, but Mom got up right away. She headed right for the kitchen.
Yes!, I thought. Get that coffee started.
“Now you know, John,” she started.
I finished the sentence with her – “no opening presents ‘till the coffee’s done!” we said in unison.
End Interlude
Philosophy class was one of those classes that you didn’t really have to pay attention in. You’re also never right or wrong, as long as you have a reasonable argument or theory. I couldn’t tell whether my philosophy professor wanted to be a comedian or a SportsCenter anchor. When he gave his roll call, he would try to turn student names into funny puns, like Seymour “Legs” Smith or Ben “Over” Washington. Either way, he wasn’t really funny, and he wasn’t a very good teacher. I was fading fast. Nap time approaching.
Last night was nickel night at the Office, our local club where you would drink bottom shelf booze and end up with a top shelf hangover. We see a lot of the grads come back there, because they can tell their spouses they’re working late “at the office”. When you go to nickel night, you sit at the bar and do the wave (like in a sports stadium), as everyone downs their drink. By the time the wave gets back to you, the bartender has your back and has filled your glass again. Eighteen waves later, and you’ve got your money’s worth. And now here I am, six hours later, listening to a lecture which sounds more like the teachers from a Charlie Brown tv special.
I looked around to see if anyone else was sweating – and no, they weren’t. I mean, it was December, and drinking too much can make you sweat the morning after, but this was ridiculous. It wasn’t the finals – those would be a breeze. I never worried about grades. Unless I failed. Then I’d feel guilty for not studying. Why study when you can play Setback? Anyway, I checked my shirt, and it was drenched with sweat. My head starting feeling light, and I wondered if my roommate had slipped me some funny pill or something. Something was up. I closed my eyes to see if I could force myself to wake up in case this was a dream. I tried that twice but it didn’t work. What did happen, though, is that all the bodies in the classroom turned into psychedelic, shapeless creatures without noses.
Without warning, the movie screen in the center of the chalkboard unfolded and the movie playing became clear, while everything around and behind it became fuzzy. What played on the screen was no movie, though, it was real, and I could FEEL it. I saw a familiar road, the road to my high school, back in Simsbury, CT. I saw my Mother and sister and then thousands of people. It was like a news reel.
It was quickly turning into a scary movie. I heard a boom so loud I covered my ears and jumped out of my seat. I did not look back at the stares of my classmates.
One hour later, I was on a northbound bus on 1-95, back to Simsbury. My family needs me now.
Underneath the Tree - A supernatural tale of Christmas
Chapter One – "Homeward Bound"
Interlude – Christmas 1988, 4:30 AM
Drip. Drip! The sound was so quiet it was deafening.
For minutes that seemed like years, I had listened for that sound.
Please, oh, please let it start.
I’d toss and turn in the bed just loud enough so the creaks would make their way into Mom and Dad’s room.
They can’t still be sleeping – it must be five am already!
Finally, I had enough of waiting – I leapt out of my bed and stomped on the floor.
Surely that would get them up....Nothing!
Frantic, I ran over to their bedroom.
I didn’t know whether to cry or to yell or to poke.
They HAD to get up.
This was Christmas morning, and we must be the last family to wake up.
I decided the "poke" method would work best.
Dad would not budge, but Mom got up right away. She headed right for the kitchen.
Yes!, I thought. Get that coffee started.
“Now you know, John,” she started.
I finished the sentence with her – “no opening presents ‘till the coffee’s done!” we said in unison.
End Interlude
Philosophy class was one of those classes that you didn’t really have to pay attention in. You’re also never right or wrong, as long as you have a reasonable argument or theory. I couldn’t tell whether my philosophy professor wanted to be a comedian or a SportsCenter anchor. When he gave his roll call, he would try to turn student names into funny puns, like Seymour “Legs” Smith or Ben “Over” Washington. Either way, he wasn’t really funny, and he wasn’t a very good teacher. I was fading fast. Nap time approaching.
Last night was nickel night at the Office, our local club where you would drink bottom shelf booze and end up with a top shelf hangover. We see a lot of the grads come back there, because they can tell their spouses they’re working late “at the office”. When you go to nickel night, you sit at the bar and do the wave (like in a sports stadium), as everyone downs their drink. By the time the wave gets back to you, the bartender has your back and has filled your glass again. Eighteen waves later, and you’ve got your money’s worth. And now here I am, six hours later, listening to a lecture which sounds more like the teachers from a Charlie Brown tv special.
I looked around to see if anyone else was sweating – and no, they weren’t. I mean, it was December, and drinking too much can make you sweat the morning after, but this was ridiculous. It wasn’t the finals – those would be a breeze. I never worried about grades. Unless I failed. Then I’d feel guilty for not studying. Why study when you can play Setback? Anyway, I checked my shirt, and it was drenched with sweat. My head starting feeling light, and I wondered if my roommate had slipped me some funny pill or something. Something was up. I closed my eyes to see if I could force myself to wake up in case this was a dream. I tried that twice but it didn’t work. What did happen, though, is that all the bodies in the classroom turned into psychedelic, shapeless creatures without noses.
Without warning, the movie screen in the center of the chalkboard unfolded and the movie playing became clear, while everything around and behind it became fuzzy. What played on the screen was no movie, though, it was real, and I could FEEL it. I saw a familiar road, the road to my high school, back in Simsbury, CT. I saw my Mother and sister and then thousands of people. It was like a news reel.
It was quickly turning into a scary movie. I heard a boom so loud I covered my ears and jumped out of my seat. I did not look back at the stares of my classmates.
One hour later, I was on a northbound bus on 1-95, back to Simsbury. My family needs me now.
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