First published in Red Fez - Issue 96
The pale winter sun was usually the first caress we felt after being trapped in darkness all year long.
The routine never varied. A few days before the Ritual, we would begin to stir from our annual hibernation. And then began the relentless waiting, straining our non existent ears for the footsteps that signaled our release from prolonged captivity.
Before long, we would hear the slow tread up the stairs. It was a heavy tread - measured, solid, and steady in its advancement. It would make the third step from the bottom creak with its evenly placed weight, and this creak is what would get us all into a happy panic. Soon the steps would reach us, and then would begin another round of even more unbearable waiting, as the large hands that went with the heavy gait freed our friends, before finally coming to deliver us from our prison. And then, that warm caress of winter sun, followed by the warmth of those large palms as they stroked our foreheads and cradled us and gathered us into the light.
This year, our wait ended with the sounds of not just one, but two sets of steps coming up the stairs. One was the usual measured step that we all knew so well. It was accompanied by a lighter tread - hesitant, scurrying, with a casual sounding heel, not the large boot we were accustomed to. The two pairs of feet together created quite the rhythmic interlude as they entered our Sleep Space.
I could hear the hurried whispers among my brothers.
"Who do you think that is?"
"Why are there two of them? Hey, Chief, you ever heard two of them come together like that?"
That last one addressed to me. They call me Chief, because I am the oldest of them all.
"Not that I can recall, Junior. Now hush!"
We waited. And for the first time, we heard two voices talking to each other. Of course we had heard voices before, but they usually came later, much later, not here in our Sleep Space, and they usually rose to create a cacophony of many different timbres.
"Ah! Here they all are. Right, lets take them down, son."
"All of them, Father?"
"Yeah, all of them. That's what we do every year. Well, that's what I've been doing every year, but you're old enough and strong enough now to help your old man out, aren't you?"
A few seconds later, we felt hands lifting us. This was strange. Usually there would be the liberating and the gentle caress, before we were entombed in darkness again and transported to our final destination. There we were finally unveiled, and we finally met all our other friends who we hadn't seen for over a year, as we took our places in the annual pageant that was our pride and joy.
"This is getting more and more weird."
"Can you hear if they're saying anything?"
The folks were getting restless, and I guess it was up to me to keep the peace.
"Calm down everyone! No need to get all worked up. I'm sure there's a good explanation for what's going on and we'll find out soon enough. No need to put our own feet to the fire then, is there?"
The loud guffaws I received did nothing to quiet my own unease at what was developing. I took a deep sigh and decided that I'd best follow my own advice.
We felt the descending steps, the slow swinging of the arms that held us, and then the level walk to the living room. We were placed on the floor as always, and this is usually where our third wait began, and it was the longest. We were almost always the last ones to be released from captivity. But the way things were going this year, what could we expect?
Sure enough, our longest wait turned out to be much shorter than usual. It also turned out to be noisier than usual, with 4 voices now clearly heard chiming in the background. As we braced for the first touch, the four voices were joined by a fifth one, not altogether unfamiliar in sound, just unexpected in time. The yapping would have set our teeth on edge, if we had any that is.
"Jesus Christ, will you take him outside?"
"But Rudy also wants to see," piped a small voice, slightly peeved.
"That's Pumpkin!" one of my brothers said.
"I never did understand that name", said Junior. "Why is she called that? She doesn't look like one."
"We only know them by the names they use to call each other Junior. You know that."
"Rudy will just get in the way pumpkin, why don't you take him out to the garden. He can come in after a little while once we have a better handle on things here, okay?"
The first thing we felt this year was a cold, clammy hand. The face that belonged to it felt somewhat familiar and with a start I realized that this was Son. Son, who had grown tall, whose face had lost its cherubic chubbiness, whose voice had deepened, along with the cleft in his chin. No wonder we hadn't recognized him in the Sleep Space before.
He flung us about before pushing us aside and moving on to something else. He returned shortly and in a quick move dumped us unceremoniously on the shiny new carpet.
I tried to ignore the "oohs" and "ahs" that emanated from my bruised and battered brethren, so I could take a good look around. This was usually my favorite part, looking at my workplace after a whole year, trying to see what had remained the same, what had changed. Before catching up with old friends as we waited our turn to be called to service.
My workspace, as it were, was unrecognizable. Aside from the shiny new carpet, there were new silk curtains, a brand new fireplace and fresh paint on the walls. While I luxuriated in these opulent surroundings, a small part of me felt nostalgic for the old brown rug and the gingham curtains.
And those weren't the only changes. Father, he of the heavy, steady tread, didn't look all that different, but there were new lines around his eyes, not to mention a significant rounding of the belly up front.
"No wonder he needed Son to come and help him," whispered Junior, echoing my thoughts. That boy becomes more and more like me everyday.
Standing behind Son, with a hand on his shoulder is Mother. She has also aged, but it is expertly camouflaged with expensive clothes and a fancy hairdo. Her black leather shoe tapped an impatient beat on the floor as she oversaw Son's activities.
"Let's split them into two piles. These and others like it can stay here. The rest can be put over there."
This was definitely a departure from the usual. We huddled together. Presently, we were joined by old Mr. Bell, and Mrs. Greenglobe , whose well rounded figure was looking a little dull and tired, even after a whole year of rest. Mr. Klaus, who a couple of years ago had had his jaw rewired after a small accident with Son also became part of our growing tribe, as did Dame Holly, who was among the oldest of us, with her wrinkles showing her age. Last to join us was Angelique, the most beautiful of us all, who made us sigh with pleasure every time we saw her. Today, we greeted her with looks of disbelief.
Across the room, we could see our other friends, Mr. Bigfoot and his 3 kids, red as tomatoes. Close relatives of Mrs. Greenglobe, dressed in every color of the rainbow. Mr. Bells' nieces and nephews, who were a nice lot, if a trifle too loud. We could see the looks of confusion writ large on their faces too.
"That's it then", said Mother. "We'll use these over here", pointing to our friends near the fireplace, "and this lot here can be thrown away."
"Are you sure, Mother?", said Father, seemingly disappointed as he looked over at her. "These have been with us for a long time, ever since we first moved here."
"Just look at them! Scratched, and bedraggled, and...old! It brings down the entire new look of our house. No, they have to go. We have no use for them anymore. We have to move with the times, just like all our neighbors. Can you imagine what they will say when they come over for Christmas dinner and see this?"
I felt a deep horror take root inside me, the chill spreading all along my length till I thought I was going to melt into nothingness. Terrified murmurs built into a crescendo around me, as my brothers and friends began to comprehend the death sentence that had just been passed.
"What does she mean, Chief," cried Junior, echoed by other dissonant voices, indignant and enraged.
Before I could reply, I felt Son's cold hand sweep us up and into a dirty plastic bag. It reeked of rancid oil and overripe fruit, a far cry from the cinnamon and cloves that we were used to.
We felt movement, as Son stood up and presumably started walking. Where to, we did not care to know.
"Hold on a second", said Father. "No need to throw them away. I'm sure we can give them to someone else to use."
A reprieve then, but the relief was short lived as we started to think about where and with whom we might end up.
"Maybe we'll go to an even bigger house," said Mrs. Greenglobe.
"Don't be stupid! You heard them. We're so far gone that no one will want us. We'll be lucky if we don't end up on the rubbish heap after all, right Chief?"
"I dare say you're right Mr. Bell, but there's nothing to do but wait and see."
Angelique turned her head away, but not before we saw large tears rolling down those perfect cheeks. We felt the bag we were in settle. It was dark, the better to hide our glum faces and worried looks from one another.
A few hours later, we sensed movement again. A sharp light shone upon us and we could barely see who was peering down at us. But we recognized the cold hand that came among us, shifting us around. Up went Mrs. Greenglobe, Mr. Bell, old Dame Holly, even Mr. Klaus.
"I guess we'll have to use them after all, Mother."
"Only since we've fallen short, and none of you will go back to the store. We'll use them for the back part, and with any luck, no one will notice."
Even as we began hoping for the best, the light went out and we were left in the bag, Angelique and us.
Surely they were going to come back for us as well, surely!
The moments stretched into hours, before we admitted to ourselves that we truly were the outcasts, the lowest of the low.
Time passed, and we settled into a state of dread foreboding. Even Angelique had stopped weeping, spending her time huddled in her corner, talking to no one, no matter how much we tried. The stink of the bag got steadily worse, and the reek of our fear, sharp and acrid, only added to the miasma. Darkness, not unknown to us, as we spent so much time with it anyway, nevertheless took on a whole new dimension, till its oppressive, brooding nature became too much to bear. Worst of all was being unable to figure out time, space, a sense of any kind. All we had was the terrible waiting.
Then - when exactly, I could not say for sure - there was a rustling of footsteps, and the bag was in motion again. After a while, we were tumbled out onto the coffee table, in pitch darkness, with nothing but the single beam of light shining down on us.
"There they are," said Father, the relief in his voice palpable.
His rough, warm hands were joined by Son's clammy ones as they picked us up one by one, just like in the days of yore, and fixed us with glue to our usual places.
Then there was the sound we had all been waiting for, for a whole year. The sharp, quick rasp, and then the slight flicker as the match caught the flame.
"Carefully now, Son. One by one."
I was overcome by a sense of great joy and satisfaction as one by one, my brothers came alive under the spark of that blue flame. Pretty soon, I felt the warm glow suffuse my own body, and I joined them in this timeless ritual that had been the very purpose of my life all these years.
"Isn't it just beautiful!" exclaimed Pumpkin.
Suddenly, Mother's sharp tone penetrated my joyous reverie.
"Quick, take off that new angel. That long lace gown might catch fire."
"But we have to have an angel on top of the tree!"
"We'll have to use the old plastic one. Ah! Here it is!"
We looked up to see Angelique take her rightful place on top of the tree, from where she had ruled over all of our hearts all these years. Tears of happiness stippled her face, but there was sadness in her eyes that I could perceive, and understand. She knew, as I did, that this was going to be the last time we were called upon to celebrate the magic of Christmas in this, and perhaps, any house.
And yet, we could see the sight we never tired of seeing, year after year. The wonder on the faces of those who looked upon us, upon the glorious joy of a Christmas tree, bedecked with shiny, glittering ornaments. All lit up, dispensing the darkness around it with its cheerful, warm glow.
Even Mother's grim features softened in the flickering light as her hand found Father's palm. He put his other arm around Son, drawing him close, while Pumpkin clapped her hands in sheer delight.
"Mother and I will be busy with our guests. Both of you will have to watch over the tree as we do every year, to make sure that there is no accident, understood?" said Father to his two children, who nodded.
"We've already put the bucket of sand and the pail of water by the tree, Father," said Son.
"Good, good. I know you had your heart set on those new electric lights, Mother. But this new invention is as yet unreliable, as we've found out the hard way tonight. It may be many years till they get this whole electricity thing that Mr. Edison keeps talking about sorted out for use for lighting Christmas trees."
"You're right Father", smiled Mother. "Thank goodness we didn't throw out those old candles."