So, because I'm lazy, I can't be bothered to write an actual blog today. So I decided to leave you with this. In November/December 2009, our homework project was to write a short story revolving around Christmas. Now, because I'm incapable of writing happy, fluffy, joyful stories, I decided to write something a little more depressing. And, this is it...
Alice drew her legs up to her chest, her arms wrapping around them in a half-hearted attempt to keep warm. With less than an hour until midnight, Christmas crept closer with every tick and every tock of the persistent clock on the wall. The decorations had lost their appeal weeks ago, as did the annoying carols that everyone insisted on singing at the top of their voices, no matter how out of tune they may be.
But now, there were no noisy carollers around her, no Christmas specials on the TV. She didn't want to hear any of it. The house was silent, except for the ticking of the clock above her. The silence was disturbing, tense, as if Alice was expecting someone to jump out at her with a kitchen knife. She shuddered at the thought, looking around nervously.
Paranoia had stuck to her like a plague the past few weeks. She looked over her shoulder as she walked down the street, feeling like someone was following her; she'd wake up in the middle of the night and run to the baby's cot, in fear that someone had snuck in and taken him; she left her light on at night because she was afraid of something lurking in the darkness. It was pathetic. Alice knew that no one was there, but she felt so defenceless and scared all the time without anyone there to protect her. She felt so alone and weak, abandoned and unloved. She found it hard to make it through the day, feeling so numb, so worthless.
She hummed softly to fill the silence, trying to calm her pounding heart. She didn't recognise the tune; it might not even be real, it might be something she picked up on the spot. She knew only one thing – it wasn't helping to sooth her nerves. At all.
Her eyes flickered to the cot on the other side of the room, where her baby boy slept peacefully, unaware of his mother's worries. Through the thin material of the cot, Alice could see his chest rising and falling with each breath he took, wishing she could be in his place instead. His name was Harrison, named after his deceased uncle. Everyone said he resembled his mother, but had his father's piercing blue eyes. The parents agreed.
Even in Alice's dreams, everything was chaos. She dreamt repeatedly of losing her loved ones, of being killed, of being tortured to insanity. When she awoke, she would be drenched in cold sweat and shivering like she had just stepped out of an ice bath. She had tried everything; sleeping tablets, sleeping drinks, calming rituals, but none of it worked. The nightmares continued
Alice hugged her legs tighter to her chest. The ticking of the clock was starting to get annoying, and so she hummed louder in a failed attempt to drown it out. There must be less than half-an-hour until the twenty-fifth of December by now, as the moment she dreaded drew ever closer.
Alice had always loved Christmas. Every year for the past two and a half decades of her existence, she had truly loved the occasion. She was known amongst her friends as the one that truly held Christmas Spirit. She was always the one that sung Christmas carols, that dressed in the festive red and green, that went over-board with the decorations. She was always the one who recorded the Christmas specials on TV; the one who loved spending the day in the kitchen, preparing the Christmas feast; she loved watching the kids open the presents; she loved making home-baked mince pies. She definitely put the spirit into Christmas.
Well, usually.
This year, however, she refused to celebrate it. She steered clear of festive clothing, disconnected the TV, hadn't brought a turkey to cook for the next day, hadn't put any presents under the tree. The reason for the change in Alice was simple. Everyone understood, so no one asked questions, for which she was thankful for.
She knew David would have wanted her to enjoy Christmas, but she couldn't do that without him. David was her husband and an ambitious man who loved adventure and was always seeking something new to do. He was brave and spontaneous, always jumping from one dangerous hobby to another. His most recent mission was what had left Alice so shaken and paranoid.
He had gone to war.
Alice was proud of him, indeed, but no amount of pride could destroy the worry and anxiety building inside of her. Thousands of men lost their lives at war each year, and even though David promised her he would be alright, she knew that could change so quickly.
For the past three years of their marriage, she had never spent a Christmas without him, except for this year. At the end of November, David had been accepted into the army and sent off to Afghanistan almost immediately. He promised he would stay safe, that he wouldn't die, that he'd be home for Christmas. Two of those promises had already been broken, and a third could also have been shattered quite easily. War wasn't safe, so that promise was broken the moment he made it; and there were only fifteen precious minutes left until Christmas, with no sign of Alice's husband in sight.
Alice screwed her eyes shut, releasing a shaky breath as she tightened the hold on her legs, pushing them further against her middle as if she was trying to fit into a small box. She wished that David would return from the war alive and well, that she wouldn't have to spend another Christmas alone next year. A single tear appeared at the corner of her left eye, which was still clamped shut. It rolled down her cheek slowly, the ticking of the clock consuming her mind.
Tick, tock … tick, tock … tick, tock. Chime.
She sighed and brushed away the tear.
“Merry Christmas, Alice,” she said dryly, her eyes opening slightly as the corners of her mouth turned up into a humourless smile.
Aren't I just a little ray of sunshine? I promise to actually write a blog tomorrow, instead of just pulling out a story and shoving it in your face ^.^
