December 24th, my tenth birthday and my mom isn’t home. It was also Christmas Eve. The Christmas decors had been haplessly strewn all over the house and the lights were going on and off – not coz it was their theme.
I looked up and realized that most of the bulbs were dead. I sat with my cold fingers clutching a single Christmas present wrapped with last year’s Christmas wrapper. The house was emptier now that I actually had to be there.
Atleast, this year I was able to trick the nanny into going home early. She had picked up a post-it letter from the refrigerator bearing mom’s pen craft and her name, saying she’ll be home atleast ten tonight.
My forgery skill at this young age is quite exceptional…
“Rubbbbbbiiiiiiii!” Fatima called out from the window. She was with her big sisters on their usual carol-brigade.
They would invite with them every year. I would decline every time but they never got bored with me. I almost felt sorry about it. But being together with them made me feel even more alone…
“No can do. Mom’s gonna be here any minute” I lied.
“O, ok” she answered, not at all surprised by my dismissive attitude. “We’ll come by again tomorrow night” she smiled and waved good bye.
Sometimes I wish I had big sisters like her. I always wondered what it would be like to have someone around during the holidays. I felt a huge pang of pain stab my chest. Being alone was always the Christmas dinner for me.
I went out to rub some of the pain off with the cold air. Our house was scenically located uphill that gave us a full view of the city lights at night. Meluna was exceptionally looking beautiful tonight with the Christmas lights roaming freely in the streets. And by then the lights seemed to have been calling out to me – beckoning.
‘Are you alone, child?’ it whispered. ‘Come…come…come along…We’ll sing you happy carols. We’ll sing you merry songs…Come…come…come along…’
I felt my tiny feet stumble through the ice, the boots fumbling in the blind darkness. There was a sudden chill. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t wait till mom was back in the early hours of light. I couldn’t make myself go up the roof and foolishly wait for a Christmas miracle to arrive. My dad wasn’t coming back home. He was never going to be here for dinner.
It was supposed to be our first Christmas family out that night. He promised he’d be home early. I barely remember him now. I had just turned one that year. He wanted to celebrate extra special for my birthday and asked a friend to cater for our dinner. I can’t remember what had happened then. All I could muster up was whine and cry and throw the Christmas decors at my mom for not letting me see my dad.
She knelt down with me then. Something with the heavy beating of her heart so close to my tiny ears made me know that her hurt was more than mine. She was hurting for both me and my dad. I never cried or asked about my father after that. She never talked about him either. And pretty soon we just gradually forgot – or pretended to.
In my case there wasn’t anything much to forget. I never knew my father that long. And now with the holidays here again I can’t help but feel stupidly at fault. I don’t know why, or how, but I was being pulled more and more into the darkness…
The Christmas lights from the city dimmed as I walked into a thicket at the woody part of the subdivision. A voice it whispered. ‘Come…we’ll sing you happy carols…come child, come…’
That was my first encounter with the Dark Realm, although I was too young to recognize it.
A pair of cold hands grabbed me from the shoulders. It was long and thin and the night only allowed me to see the almost translucent glint of his skin. He smelled nice, and his long hair full of jet black curls curved the thin yet sharp edges of his face.
“Stay…” he murmured. “Stay still my little princess…”
I barely understood the words but I kept my feet completely planted on the ground where he had put me. His eyes, my mind must’ve been too winded down by the cold air that I thought I saw it glinted red. He gritted his teeth towards the direction I was walking to. I almost heard him snarl.
Something trembled within the trees. Something moved. And then in the darkness the voices vanished.
I sighed, waiving, feeling faint. And then he carried me up. I was like cotton doll over his shoulder. I tried to kick but found my knees weak like taffy.
“Don’t worry my little Amb-" He sighed, the crisp cold air ruffling off some of his words. "I won’t let any harm befall you.”
“Are you” I sobbed. I felt the hiccup rising from under my throat. “Are you…my dad?” A strong stream of hot tears rolled down on my red cheeks.
The stranger didn’t move. He was gazing at the view over the porch, the city lights seemed to have drawn him in too. He patted my back and then the top of my head. He began to sway, clutching my small hands inside his big and cold ones. It’s as if we were waltzing into the silent night.
My tears soon dried up. I began to yawn. It was almost midnight. The chimes from the clock tower of the city’s central park began ringing in an old Christmas hymn.
“Sleep my little princess…I’ll watch over you tonight.”
I nodded under his chin. The cold air seemed warm under it. I sifted through the rough lines of sleep and stupor and had found a merry slumber inside the stranger’s arms.
…
I woke up the day after that with the smell of hot chocolate, my mom’s smile and a new pile of Christmas present, no doubt, rushed and wrapped on her way home. She patted my hip and whispered ‘Sorry’ in my ear.
“Mom” I sat up, kicking my tiny feet in the air. Our house didn’t seem so desolate then. My mom had come home – with a Christmas carrot cake to boot. “Mom. Santa must be real” I yawned, stretched my short arms up in the air.
She giggled, passing me a huge chunk of cake. “What makes you say that? I thought’ you’ve researched that conspiracy a year ago” her eyebrows light up.
It was a year ago and I spent the first week of my holiday break inside the Library of Meluna, compiling factual evidence on the fallacy of Santa Clause. I did stumble upon Saint Nick though.
“He gave me my Christmas wish this year” I smiled, chomping into the cake.
From then on I always knew that I was never alone...
BINABASA MO ANG
Blood Ink (The Archives Book I): Editing
Вампіри"Two deaths that happened in the distant past were revealed to me. Now there was a recent murder within the school that I had to witness for myself. And when I fled to a new found friend (though I wanted to be more than that) for comfort, he tells m...
