The Christmas Tree

The Christmas Tree1

It was late in December of last year when I realised that although Christmas day was almost upon me I had neglected to adorn my living room with a tree.2

It was a terrible omission on my part to forget this vital part of Christmas tradition but my mind had been on other things entirely.3

Without labouring the point too much it is safe to say that I was not enjoying the most stable emotional period in my life. My wife of twelve years had recently discovered that I was having an affair with one of the young girls who I worked with and in disgust she had taken the children and left me. I don’t blame her of course; it was my fault entirely. But the point remains that I was in pieces, my life was falling apart and getting a Christmas tree was far down on my list of priorities. 4

The omission of a Christmas tree was only bought to my attention by nine-year old niece Katharine who thought it a little strange that her favourite uncle didn’t even have a Christmas tree. It was hard enough explaining to her why I was now living alone and why her friends (and my children) Matthew (10) and Jennifer (7) had left so suddenly. I couldn’t even talk to my family anymore. The wife had moved to Canada with her parents as far as I knew, and she was refusing to even talk to me. But the one thing I could do was to get a Christmas tree. Then at least I could pretend that things weren’t really as messed up as they were. Perhaps not only for my niece, but for me as well. So late one evening, after an attempt to reach my aforementioned secret girlfriend backfired (she wanted nothing to do with me after my wife found out) I found myself attracted to a roadside sign advertising ‘Genuine Christmas trees’.5

It was quite late at night when I pulled over at the side of the small country road, and I thought it was a little odd that trees would still be on sale at this time of night. But as it was December 22nd and I had only a few more days before Christmas day itself I stopped and determined to buy myself a nice, good old-fashioned tree.6

I parked up, walked towards the illuminated sign and looked for any sign of the trees and whoever was in charge of selling them. I then walked around the sign; looked as far around as the darkness would allow, but saw nothing to indicate that there was anything open. Disappointed I turned and headed back to my car. But then a voice, "Sir, Sir, are you looking for a tree?” came a small, barely audible voice from behind me. I turned around and still saw nothing. But then again the voice came, “Sir, sir are you looking for a tree? I have the best selection this side of Norway. Big tall, fat, slim, everything is available here for the right price”. 7

Then out of the darkness I could see the figure of a very small man, a dwarf in fact, slowly shuffling towards me. The man was about three feet in height and to all intents and purpose looked like a figure out of a Christmas television movie. He was wearing a bright green suit, and jingled from the bells that adorned both his pointy little shoes and comical shaped garden gnomes cap. 8

For a second I thought it was all a joke. Surely somebody was having me on here I thought. I looked around for hidden cameras, there was none? All around me was silence. The only people here were this strange little fellow and myself. I looked at him again and he seemed to be saying, ‘Well, it’s your turn to speak’, so I did. 9

“Yeah, hi there mate. I’m looking for a decent size tree for my living room”.10

“Well you’ve come to the right place. What size do you need”, he replied. I really didn’t know, so guessed a size that I thought would be worthy enough to impress my little niece.11

“About nine foot mate, if you have one that size”, I replied12

“Are you sure?” he asked. “That’s very large for a living room and these are really special trees. You have to remember that they are living, breathing things, they have to be treated well. It’s not good cramming a nine foot tree into a eight foot room you know”.13

How ridiculous, I thought to myself. The little guy has obviously been out here alone with the trees a little too long. Talk about Stockholm syndrome, this guy was beginning to identify with his own trees. But then I looked around again, and I was puzzled that I still couldn’t see any trees. I decided to question him on this pertinent fact.14

“Where are the trees mate? I can’t see any,” I asked.15

“Oh I have trees, don’t you worry about that. Nine feet you say? Turn to your right and you will see the most beautiful nine footer that you have ever set your eyes upon”.16

I laughed to myself at the stupidity of it all. Turned to my right and there it was, a magnificent nine foot tree, just as he had promised.17

“Wow, that is a beautiful tree” I gasped in amazement. “How much?”18

“Will you take good care of it?” he replied.19

“Of course”20

“Give me a tenner then and we will be all square”.21

What a bargain I thought, I handed over the cash, thanked the strange little man, strapped the tree to my car boot and headed off back home. I looked in the rear view mirror to wave goodbye to the Christmas tree seller, but he was no longer there. He had vanished just like he had never even existed.22

The first night with the tree was uneventful. Little did I know at the time that this was the proverbial calm before the storm. It was late and I was tired so I carefully manoeuvred it into the living room, propped it up on a chair and headed straight for bed. 23

I woke late on the 23rd of December, fatigued from the stress of my personal turmoil, but eager to decorate the house for the Christmas day visit of my niece, brother and his wife. They must have sensed the chaos that my life was in so kindly offered to come around for the day and make Christmas dinner with me.24

They had to be aware that I had no idea how to cook, or to even use the kitchen, so my brother was going to bring a turkey and everything else that was needed to make my Christmas day seem as normal as possible. I really appreciated this gesture, so was determined that the house would look as Christmassy as possible. 25

First off I decorated the outside of the house. I carefully stapled lights and decorations around the window, put a wreath on the door and placed a large inflatable Santa in the little front garden. I then went inside, put up decorations all around the ceiling, blew up about fifty balloons and set to work on the Christmas tree.26

The only problem was that the damn thing was just too big for the ceiling. The little guy had been right, it would never fit. Easily solved I thought, and took the tree into the back garden where I sawed off a foot at the base. This seemed to do the trick and within a messy and sweaty twenty minutes I had a beautiful Christmas tree as the centrepiece of my living room. I attached some lights, added some chocolates for my niece and stepped back with pride. ‘Well’, I thought, ‘perhaps Christmas won’t be so bad after all’. 27

Happy with my day’s work I did what I normally do when I have a few days off work and I went to the pub.28

About twelve pints later I returned home. The tree still looked great and I called for Whiskers, my beautiful tabby cat. I had been out for at least ten hours, so I knew she must be hungry. She normally runs over and gives me a little purr of welcome, but this time nothing, she wasn't anywhere to be seen. 'Oh well’ I thought. ‘She must be out having some catty adventures’, so I put some food in her bowl, took off my coat and stumbled upstairs to bed. The alcohol was really taking effect by now and I just about made it before collapsing on the now single occupied marital bed.29

I woke late again on Christmas Eve, feeling terrible and with a head-banging hang over. I called again for my cat, “Whiskers, Whiskers girl where are you?” but still nothing. I walked into the living room and was astonished by the mess that lay before me. The tree had been knocked over, decorations and lights were smashed all over the living room and there were tuffs of hair strewn all over the carpet. Again I called for my cat, but again no response. I picked up the tree, replaced it into its pot and tidied the living room, fearing that I might find the body of poor Whiskers. 30

Perhaps she had had an accident with the tree late at night and I hadn’t heard it because of my inebriated condition. Perhaps she had chewed through a cable and electrocuted herself. It was a grisly thought, but you do hear about these kinds of things happening. 31

After a thorough search there was still no sign of her. I put on my coat and shoes and walked outside shouting her name, but still nothing. 32

I was utterly confused. The hair in the living room definitely belonged to her, I was sure of that. She was a large ginger cat and the tuffs of hair definitely belonged to her, but there was no sign of Whiskers herself whatsoever. 33

Confused and upset as I felt about the disappearance of my dear beloved house cat I was determined that it wouldn’t affect Christmas day. My niece was so excited about Christmas that I was determined to put on a brave face for her at least. I wouldn’t be seeing my own children; I had no control over that now. But I was determined to make the day as special as possible for little Katharine.34

I had some last second shopping to do before the big day so spent the remainder of the day preparing for the next day’s party. Returning home late again laden with presents and food I secretly hoped that Whiskers would be they’re waiting for me. 35

Of course I knew that she wouldn’t be there, and she wasn’t. I had a last tidy of my house, wrapped up some presents and went to bed. This would be my first Christmas in twelve years without my wife and children, it would be a tough day for me so I needed all the rest I could get to make sure I got through it in one piece. 36

I wasn’t asleep for very long before I heard a strange noise coming from downstairs. At first I thought that Whiskers had returned, but I listened again and the sound being made was definitely not coming from my cat. It was a dragging, scrapping sound that I heard. It was something large and it was in my downstairs living room. 37

I jumped out of bed, reached for the baseball bat that I have at the bottom of my wardrobe and carefully, silently began to ascend the stairs. If somebody thought they could burgle me on Christmas Eve then I was going to give them the surprise of their life. 38

Step by step I descended the stairs, the sounds from the living room continued, squeaking, groaning and dragging across the living room floor. I pictured somebody stealing the television set the stereo, the games console then slowly dragging them out of the dining room patio.39

I was at the second from last step when the living room door flew open and to my astonishment and utter horror the branch of a tree flew forward, grabbing the baseball bat from my hand. I staggered backwards fell over, and there it was, towering over me, eight feet tall with two murderous red eyes glaring at me in the dark. The Christmas tree was alive, and I was about to fight for my very life.40

I scrambled back up the stairs, but two branches encircled my arms dragging me back down the stairs. I screamed in horror as I was pulled closer and closer to a gaping mouth of thorns in the centre of the tree. The two red bulbs above the mouth suggested eyes, cold dead eyes that seemed to be alive with hatred. I struggled but could not move I was going to be eaten alive by my own Christmas tree.41

I struggled but it was no use, the thing was too strong and I was going to be eaten alive. 42

Then all of a sudden, as I was beginning to accept my fate the cat flap flew open and with a feline shriek of courage my beloved cat Whiskers sprang onto the back of the horrific tree. She moved to the front, tearing with her claws at the bulbs that were now the eyes of the tree. 43

The branches loosened on my arms and I struggled to escape from the grip. The tree screamed as Kitten tore and tore at the blood red bulbs and I finally released myself and ran for the kitchen. 44

I scrambled for a weapon; anything to take down the thing that was in my hallway. I picked up a large carving knife, freshly sharpened for tomorrow’s dinner, rang back into the hallway and began to frantically hack at the tree. 45

It wasn’t working; and the tree appeared to grow angrier. 46

Kitten was thrown across the living room and again the branches of the tree wrapped around my arms. 47

The red bulbs of the tree’s eyes now hung loose and shattered, but the gaping mouth champed and champed drawing me closer to a horrible death. 48

Whiskers whimpered in the corner obviously hurt from her brave attempt to save me, as I was dragged once again into the hallway.49

I frantically scrambled for anything to help me, anything that would release me from the death grip of this murderous tree. 50

I reached my coat, holding onto a pocket that tore open as I struggled against the vice like grip. 51

Coins spilled to the floor, and as I looked back I could see the lighter that I had used outside the pub the night before. 52

I grabbed, sparked it up with one hand and waved it at the tree. It didn’t react at all, it’s eyes were obviously now useless, but if it couldn’t see the flame then it would certainly react to it. 53

I pulled the leaves of a branch close to the lighter and the tree instantly caught fire. It screamed in agony as I kicked myself free, escaping into the living room and falling backwards onto the debris-laden floor.54

The thing in the corridor screamed and screamed, but then it gradually subsided and all of a sudden the house was silent, save from the flickering of the fire in the hallway. I crawled to the doorway, carefully and cautiously looking around the frame of the door. The thing was dead; thankfully the fire had been enough and it had been almost completely destroyed by the flames.55

The strange thing was that none of the nearby furnishings were affected. The coats, shoes, wooden stairs and walls were completely unaffected by the fire. It appeared that the thing had been a vacuum for the fire itself, and as the fire consumed the creature it had died naturally as if it’s job had now been done.56

All that was left of the nightmarish tree was a charcoal stain on the stairs and carpet. I looked at the scene in a state of shocked relief, still not believing what I had just witnessed.57

I felt a brushing against my legs and picked up the purring body of Whiskers my cat. She looked at me, and I thanked her with all my heart for saving my life. 58

“Well whiskers, it looks like we have a bit of a mess to clean up. It’s Christmas day soon, and I have a special piece of turkey just for you”.59

Perhaps tomorrow wouldn’t be so bad after all I thought. I cleaned up the mess and prepared for a brilliant Christmas day.60