When the daylight has faded

The Paper Beast (#shake)

The noise of deep distress shook me to the core. I dropped the book I was reading and raced down the stairs. I slid into the living room on stockinged feet, narrowly missing the humongous cardboard box that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.

My mother was standing in front of said box with a look of horror and despair in her eyes that I knew all too well.

I sighed, bent down and fished a random item out of the geriatric removal box. I held it up and placed it on the shelf behind me.

"There you go, Mum. All done!" I clapped my hands.

I wished my mother hadn't finally acknowledged my presence, when she nearly burst my eardrums, screeching, "All done? That's not even a start! Have you seen what's in the box?"

I let out a long, tortured breath.

"Mum, don't do this again! Just shut the stupid thing and put it back where you got it from!"

Sadly, my voice of wisdom failed to reach my parent. Mother suddenly dropped to her knees and began to scatter the intestines of the paper beast on the living room floor. Every time an item hit the tiles, I prayed to the God of Bone China and Interior Decoration that He would accept her sacrifice. But years of experience had taught me that this particular God was not partial to an annual offering. He seemed to prefer the show.

"Look at all this stuff! This is pointless. I wouldn't bloody bother if it wasn't for you!"

Mother's rising hysteria and foul language had now penetrated my younger sister's selective deafness. Sis crashed through the door before I had the chance to reassure Mother that our Christmas did not depend on the yearly Christmas decoration disaster which grew with every single item that found its way into her extensive collection. And a special thanks to my younger sister for this one!

She didn't disappoint this time, either.

"Mum!" she shrieked, shoving a heavy-looking parcel into Mum's arms. "You can't put up the deco without telling me! I got you these really cute Christmas mice here."

I glared at the Brat.

She smirked.

"And where's the Christmas music? We have to get into the spirit." Little sis jumped up and down with excitement. But beware of the fake news! Sis hated Christmas music as much as my mother. Any interpretation applicable.

Mother's smile put Jack Nicholson's in The Shining to shame. "Yes, of course, dear. I know how much you love Christmas music."

"And the deco, Mum! All the items carry so much history for us."

I almost gagged from the slime collision of the Brat's voice and the "Mistletoe and Wine" whine.

Sis flopped onto the settee.

"Put the elves on the mantelpiece and get rid of the candle," she commanded. "Make sure we forget nothing!"

With a deep sigh, I started to free the elves from their papery home and putting them where Mrs Lazy directed, when Mother whirled around to face me.

"See, at least your sister is helping!"

I tripped over Father Christmas and dropped Rudolph, who crash-landed on my sister's face, transferring the red of his honker straight to his.

Christmas magic!