Yes indeedy — another blog chain from this crazy fellow. This time, it is a Christmas-based blog chain (because it’s Christmas). And, since I haven’t been writing very much lately, you can have a little Christmas story.
The tree was decorated, but Mark simply wasn’t feeling it.
“It’s not… Christmassy enough,” he said with a sigh. “It’s missing something.”
April shrugged in an un-Christmas-like manner. “Well I could go get a star or whatever, if you think that’ll make it Christmassy.”
“No. That’s not the problem.” Mark sat down on the box of tinsel and thought about it. “Snow. It needs snow.”
April raised her eyebrows and laughed. “Snow? Mark, it’s ten degrees out! Besides, the tree is inside. What are we going to do, shovel snow from the garden and throw it on the tree and hope it doesn’t turn into water? You’ll just have to live with it, okay?”
Mark nodded. It was okay; he’d put snow at the top of his Christmas list. Surely Father Christmas would put a dash of it on the tree?
Mark and April packed all of the extra ornaments away and went to bed dreaming of cold crystals made of water.
Mark awoke to shouting and screaming. He ran downstairs to find April pointing at the place where the tree used to be and his heart began to glow warmly. Santa must have taken the tree to be fixed! When he brought it back, it would be covered in snow; Mark was certain.
He explained this to April and, with a cynical shrug, she sat down on the floor and stared at the place the tree used to be, waiting for it to reappear.
But the staring was to no avail; even on New Year’s Day the tree wasn’t there. Mark and April began putting up posters, asking people if they had seen the tree — or maybe a man in a red suit. It was March before they heard anything.
“You’re the kids looking for the tree?” the woman said, spitting on the grass outside Mark and April’s house.
“Yes, Miss. Do you know where it went?”
“Sure,” she said. “It was taken to be fixed.”
April and Mark smiled at each other. “We thought so! But where is it now? Why did it never come back?”
The woman glanced over her shoulder and leaned in. “There’s a conspiracy. Some of the elves… they’re stealing the trees that need fixin’. I don’t know what they’re doing with them, but it’s bad. Very bad.”
“Really?” April asked.
The woman’s eyes twinkled. “No, of course not. Elves aren’t real and neither is Santa Clause.” She laughed. “Stupid kids.”
And that is how April and Mark found out that their entire childhood was a lie.
Or it would have been, if Santa hadn’t happened to ride past in his sleigh just then and dropped their fixed, snowy tree on top of the lying woman.