December Writing Challenge: Pick Three - Winter Edition

[Sean *]

It's writing challenge time again. To enter, just post a ficlet (300-4000 words suggested) in this thread. When the voting for this month's OTM winners comes around, a voting poll will go up for this as well.

The Challenge: With the various winter holidays only a few days to a few weeks away, let's focus on winter. Specifically, you must write a story that includes three of the following (and for the holidays, there are more options than usual, but one of two specific ones are mandatory): snow, a winter beverage (cocoa, eggnog, peppermint flavored drinks being sold in Starbucks and similar businesses), presents, lights or candles, a reference to a classic holiday movie (e.g. A Christmas Carol, Miracle on 34th Street, It's a Wonderful Life)*, a full lyric from a Christmas carol or traditional festival song**, fuzzy sweaters or hats.

*If you choose the movie reference, you must explain it in a note at the bottom of the entry.
**If you choose the song, you must cite the song name at the bottom of the entry, preferably with a Youtube video so we can all enjoy. Youtube videos are not mandatory.

To recap: choose three of the above, but one of those three must be either the movie reference or the full song lyric.


The Rules:

• Characters must be in Hammel canon, but the ficlets are not site canon unless expressly stately. Anything that can't fit with canon is automatically considered AU.
• Entries must be more than 300 words.
• You can enter no more than three ficlets. Any ficlets posted after the original 3 will not be considered for voting. If you want to post more, however, have fun.
• Ficlets must be titled.
  

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Christmas Eve Can Kill You*

The cold and empty evening hangs around me like a ghost,
I listen to my footsteps in the snow.
The sound of one man walkin' through the snow can break your heart,
But stopping doesn't help, so on I'll go.

He could hear laughter from the other side of the school. The annual holiday party was in full swing.

Every year, after classes had ended on the last day of the term, they threw a party open to the entire staff, a last celebration before they shut down for the winter break.

It was a big shindig, with music and decorations, catered food from two or three different restaurants, bottomless bottles and casks of alcohol, pots of peppermint coffee, and a bathtub filled with eggnog, and a Secret Santa gift exchange. The past few years there had been an ugly sweater contest that James Campbell won without trying. Everybody always had a good time.

He didn’t go. People relaxed more when he wasn’t around, and the few hours provided him with ample opportunity to finish his work. He always had papers to file or notes to write up, plenty to occupy himself while everyone else ate, drank, dance, and spread holiday cheer.

The staff had been encouraged to wear clothing with one of the six holiday colors: red, green, gold, white, blue, and silver.

His suit was brown. His shoes were brown. His socks were brown. His shirt was tan. He wore no festive jewelry; he wore no jewelry at all.

Nobody could mistake him for someone in the holiday spirit.

Nobody expected him to celebrate, and he always met expectations.

The party ended around 7:00p.m., so that everyone could go home to their families. He always left about a half hour later, so that he didn’t run into anyone else in the parking lot. First to arrive and last to leave. His dedication certainly earned him that nonexistent Christmas bonus.

When he was sure that everyone had left for the night, he packed up his work, locked his office door, and then shuffled down the hall.

He had to pass the party room on his way out. The lights were off, but he could still smell the lingering aromas of eggnog and peppermint.

He veered from his course, stepped into the room, turned on the lights.

The room was trashed, and he felt a great swell of pity for the cleaning staff tomorrow.

On the center table were the remnants of the food. Crumbs, mostly, since it had been picked over, and the staff had been encouraged to take leftovers home with them to share with their families or to eat the next day. Amidst the crumbs were a couple of broken cookies, remnants that nobody had wanted because of their poor presentation, or quite possibly because someone had taken a bite and returned them to the pile, when there had still been a pile.

He didn’t care. He swooped in and picked them up, carefully wrapping them in one of the festive green napkins.

Merry Christmas.

***************************************

Every year, Pilot Ridge threw a Holiday Bash for the 21 and older set. The town chose a charity, and the price of admission was split between the venue to cover costs and the charity to brighten someone’s year. It was a far bigger bash than the Hammel holiday party, since it catered to the entire adult population of the town, and whatever friends or relatives were around for the holiday. Food, alcohol, dancing, drunken carousing – the Holiday Bash had it all.

He didn’t go to the Pilot Ridge Holiday Bash.

There was nothing for him to do there.

Instead, he took advantage of the fact that most of the town was in one central location to go out for a walk elsewhere. If the weather was nice, he went to the park. If it wasn’t, he milled about on the street. Sometimes he went to the grocery store, where there were no lines. Nobody cooked on the night of the Holiday Bash, after all, except for him.

Tonight, the weather wasn’t bad, exactly, although it was snowing, and it was very cold. The streets would ice over, he thought, and he made a mental note to get back home long before the Bash ended, as he didn’t want to risk being out on frozen roads beside drunk drivers. The snow made his head damp and turned his hair white, but he resisted the urge to shake it out. As long as it didn’t get in his eyes, it was fine.

The winter's flaking snow is brushing through the pinewood trees,
I stuck my hands down deep inside my coat.

Even from the other side of town, he could hear the joy and mirth of most of the adult population sharing songs and drinks. In his mind’s eye, he could see the revelry, and he drew his coat more tightly around him, as though hiding himself; he knew he was interloping. He never attended; he wasn’t really invited, and he shouldn’t use his powers as a substitute for his physical presence or for social interaction.

Not that he wanted to. Not that he chose to.

Not that this had ever mattered.

The laughter and banter and flirtation and songs were so loud, particularly across the silent backdrop of an empty town. He shook his head to try to clear it, but only managed to get snow in his ears. Now he felt colder, and he could look forward to an abundance of wax the next day.

Nobody was around to notice his discomfort and solitude; they were all preoccupied with the spirit of the season.

Had he ever been that carefree and happy during the holidays? He couldn’t remember.

Blue eyes twinkled in the recesses of his memory, just out of reach.

I think of years ago and half remembered Christmas trees,
And faces that still warm me with their glow.

He remembered baking cookies alone, in case the carolers came by. Sugar cookies decorated with red, green, and blue icing, and peppermint chocolate chip for fun and flavor. He had done that until a few years ago, when it became plain that nobody would come by. Even when the wassailers managed to make it next door, they skipped him over, making their way to the house on his home’s other side. He stopped exerting the effort; store-bought were fine; glucose was glucose.

He remembered shopping for presents alone. He had nobody to exchange gifts with – his parents had died, his sister no longer spoke to him and prevented him from speaking with his nephew, and his social circle consisted of the television, when he kept it on at night to make the house a bit less lonely. He bought presents to donate to charity, and then a few items for himself that he would wrap in recycled paper. He didn’t have a tree to leave them under, but that was fine; he didn’t need the decorations.

He remembered Midnight Mass and the distinct impression that he was unwanted, that everyone knew the sins he had committed and the darkness inside of him. He hadn’t attended services in decades, and he couldn’t say that he missed it. The pageantry was nice, sometimes, as was the music, but that suffocating feeling of judgment – he could do without that.

Suffocation...

Blue eyes twinkled in the recesses of his memory, now within his grasp.

He sobbed, causing him to inhale a lungful of snow. Coughing now, he decided he needed to get to the grocery store. Anything to get out of the weather.

If he focused on buying canned goods, then he couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about...

Blue eyes twinkled in his memory, until he forcefully pushed them back.

And Christmas Eve can kill you,
When you're trying to hitch a ride to anywhere.

*Christmas Eve Can Kill You by the Everly Brothers, voted one of the top five most depressing Christmas songs of all time. Interestingly, Simon and Garfunkel used to do cover versions of their songs before they switched to folk rock.