Christmas Song

by James C. McNeill
copyright © 1996

This story started as a writer's exercise on a bulletin board. I've left the bulletin board text in.

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BBS: Adventurers Keep Bulletin Board Service
Date: 12-13-96 (23:45) Number: 102
From: DAVE LOW Refer#: NONE
To: ALL Recvd: NO
Subj: Idea starter.... Conf: (38) BN_CREATIV
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Here's the new Creativity, Story Stimulating, Start Up Idea:

I've had to start asking myself if I am tumbling into the tattered edge of insanity. I've had this song going through my mind for the last week. More urgent in my mind is the lingering figment of torn memory cloth that keeps warning me with a terrifying vagueness, that perhaps, yes perhaps, I have even been singing this patchwork song out loud. Oh God, I feel I know the answer. The people at work and in the stores have all been looking at me in that way. I must be muttering...maybe even calling out on high, the tones and lyrics of this holiday tune....

Have fun with this one...I'd really like to see more holiday stories in the next week or two. Not much has be written here since the Devil's night contest. I know the holiday shopping frenzy can destroy not only creativity but also the very core of mind and soul but lets focus on the real meaning of the holidays and share some creative moments with one another.

p.s. Miss you, my friend, my brother, Bob. How's it going...haven't heard from you for a too long while.

p.s.s. Take care all and try to stay sane while out there fighting the psychotic shop-a-rama frenzy. Remember it only comes once a year and in following months of the year, just like the dionysian festival, the frenzy feeds the flame for the following dormant months of the year. Feeding time creates panic...but the panic stirs the soul and gives it breath to carry on through the dormant times of the year....

Peace, Love & Bliss.... Dave

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--- WILDMAIL!/WC v4.12
* Origin: BEEHIVEnet: The Privy Ledged BBS, (801) 966-6270 (238:311/5.0)

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BBS: Adventurers Keep Bulletin Board Service
Date: 12-19-96 (08:38) Number: 103
From: JAMES MCNEILL Refer#: NONE
To: ALL Recvd: NO
Subj: Creative Christmas Conf: (38) BN_CREATIV
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This is the best I can do, Dave. Hope you like it.
Jim McNeill

I've had to start asking myself if I am tumbling into the tattered edge of insanity. I've had this song going through my mind for the last week. More urgent in my mind is the lingering fragment of torn memory cloth that keeps warning me with a terrifying vagueness, that perhaps, yes perhaps, I have even been singing this patchwork song out loud. Oh God, I feel I know the answer. The people at work and in the stores have all been looking at me in that way. I must be muttering...maybe even calling out on high, the tones and lyrics of this holiday tune....

If I could only recall the title, it would answer the unspoken question. I must have heard it a thousand times in the last few weeks, but I never listened to it. It was just in the background of all the other holiday noise.

The melody runs through my mind as clear as can be, but the words...only scattered patches come, and those only when I'm not thinking about it.

***"...you may say..."***

The odd thing is that although it's a merry tune, I am filled with a sense of dread; a foreboding threat, not fully formed.

***"...walking home from..."***

I put the thing on the back burner of my mind. Too many other things to worry about to waste valuable time on a silly song.

I made toffee and peanut brittle. Ralph and I had been invited to the boy's house Christmas eve for dinner.

"Ralph, do you think I should make some divinity also?"

"Mel and I like it, but you can't have any, can you?"

"No, you're right. I could have maybe a bite or two, but you and Mel would have to eat the rest."

"I won't mind a bit. Go ahead and make it."

I busied myself with the holiday treat. Ralph and the boys love it so. I do, too, but it's not on my diet.

***"...and the blue and silver..."***

That evening we walked over to the boy's house. Mel and Charlie had a beautiful ham baked, and the smell filled the house.

***"...It's not Christmas..."***

Snatches of the song flitted through my mind, but I brushed them away. The words depressed and frightened me somehow. I wanted to be happy and light. I would not allow a silly song to spoil Christmas.

"Come on Mother, let's dance."

"Why I'd love to, Ralph."

We danced and laughed and told stories. We ate all the goodies and drank all the eggnog. The spicy richness of the celebration drove the song from my mind.

***"...as for me and Grandpa..."***

At 10:00, Mel turned on the TV so we could watch Scrooge do his yearly thing. The yule fire drove the cold away, but I still felt hot and sweaty from the dancing. Soon I began to feel ill.

"I don't feel well, Ralph. I think I'll go home to bed."

"But the movie's barely started, hon."

"That's OK, you stay here with the boys and enjoy it. No need to spoil your fun because I'm out of sorts."

They begged me not to go, but I couldn't stay and throw a wet blanket over them. I put my coat on and wished them well.

"I'll be fine. We'll open the presents tomorrow."

***"...or send them back..."***

I walked slowly through the silent streets. The hateful song returned, and I felt both sick and tired. My knees began to shake and a cold sweat ran down my back. I staggered a little as I crossed the street.

"My medication...too much eggnog, the ham, the fruitcake, the candy. I've got to have my medication."

I fumbled for my purse. "My purse, my medication...I must have left it."

***"...would just have matched the hair..."***

The soft jingle of bells broke the silence, and the hair on my neck and arms stood on end. I stared in horror at the source. It was bearing down on me with lightning speed, the nose of the lead gleaming like a searchlight.

I tried to run, but I slipped and fell on the hard crusted snow. I heard my screams mixed with the words of the song...

***"Grandma got run over by a reindeer..."***

---
* OLX 2.2 * Both of his feet are firmly planted in the air.

--- WILDMAIL!/WC v4.12
* Origin: BEEHIVEnet: The Privy Ledged BBS, (801) 966-6270 (238:311/5.0)

The Privy Ledged BBS died in April 1997.

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