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Christmas Creative Nonfiction Holiday

“Oh, if only the hare were my companion here. I would not be so solitary”. Yet I must stay here and wait for spring to arrive. How pleasant it was out in the forest while the snow lay on the ground, when the squirrels would run by, yes and jump over me too, although I did not like it then. It is terribly lonely here!”.

The fir contemplated for some time. It became quite despondent, longing to go back to the natural sanctuary housing a melange of coloured flowers, chirruping birds, and the little brittle bushes. A while later, a low, screeching sound arose from one of the cardboard boxes. At first, the noise startled the fir, but it soon caught a glimpse of the creature, nibbling greedily as though it had been starved for some time. “Why, a mouse! I will not be so terribly lonely here any longer!” it thought. The tree watched silently as its acquaintance ran to and forth eagerly, in search for food. “Do not worry,” it reassured, “A grand feast will surely be prepared for us downstairs, a giant platter of walnuts, berries, cranberry sauce and roast potatoes surrounding a perfectly cooked roasted duck!”. Oh, how magnificent it all sounds! We will indulge in every type of cuisine, then listen to the story of Ivede-Avede! How I long to be freed from here so I can enjoy these delicious treats” it wondered. The mouse cautiously approached the tree, stirred by the humdrum of its patter, and gently rested alongside it.  Both remained quiet and thoughtful all night.

Morning arrived. Many days had passed since the fir anticipated its departure from this dark and dreary place of settlement. How it shuddered at the thought of residing here permanently.  At last, the timid creature spoke, whilst clinging to an idle branch. “Tell me, young fir. What brings you here? You should be in the midst of the festivities, enjoying all the splendour”. The fir was momentarily silent. At last, it replied with a discontented sigh. “I have had the pleasure of revelling in a celebration, yet it only provided a temporary feeling of comfort". Both reciprocated conversation with earnest ears. Hours passed as the tree narrated its youth whilst the creature listened attentively, in complete entrancement. The fir pronounced its tales with such enthusiasm, the mouse danced hypnotically to its euphoric tunes. “Best of all, dear friend, was the story of Humpty Dumpty”, the fir exclaimed, beginning to recount the rhyme, “Oh, that I might fall down and marry a princess!”. The mouse sniggered slightly, “Why, only fools dream so fanatically”. The tree remarked “I must say you are a wise creature, yet I am but a jester. I entertain such whims, such wishes to satisfy an innate longing; yet you mistakenly believe I dwell on such delusions for mere amusement. Oh, dear friend, if you only nurtured such ambition." And both chuckled; introducing a cacophony of hysterics which must have echoed through each and every hall; merging with the children’s reverie as they danced with their pretty toys until the moon of slumber caught up with them.

Midnight struck. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The fir began to rest under the respite of its dark green foliage; contented and calmed. A creak awoke it suddenly; as a shadowy figure entered; it seemed the darkness encapsulated its very spirit. With a croaky groan, it shook unsteadily to and fro whilst it walked, burdening the wooden floorboards with each heavy step. As the figure approached, a familiar tug frightened the fir; it remembered how it was dragged with a brutal pull towards this very dwelling. A heave, a thrust, a pull. Its branches ached and tugged as it lugged across each step; the golden baubles swinging, falling as it was heaved onto an automobile; a vehicle too miniature to accommodate an overgrown sapling. “It seems the stars have aligned in my favour! In the realms of a forgotten forest, I shall indefinitely reside tonight!”, the fir exclaimed. “Oh, how wonderful it will be!”

Before the vehicle began to pursue its journey, a child loomed close; its hands clasped as if guarding a commodity of some value. The fir was curious. “Ah, yes it’s the little mouse!”, the fir thought as the creature was revealed. It smiled cheerfully as it eagerly pounced onto the tree and laid itself comfortably amongst its branches. “Well, I see you are quite jovial today, my friend, I must ask where you have been” it uttered. “Your tales seem to have inspired me" it replied. "As the sun rose from the east, I darted to the opal gardens; and oh, was the sight exquisite! Brambles of blackcurrant fruits; their juices flowing as I gently pricked my claw into its textural exterior; a purple rhapsody of flavour unleashed upon a moist tongue". And the mouse narrated its explorations for some while; time seemed to pass rapidly. The vehicle passed through fields where stalks of golden grains rose to immaculate heights; where the birdsong beautified all that was dull; its harmony hypnotic. Both creatures adorned the vivacity of the sights. As the vehicle further fleeted into the distance, the fir beamed, declaring, "Now I can truly live", leaving fragments of the past in its wake as it journeyed onwards. Alas, it was contented, ready to establish renewability; a livelihood devoid of past haunts, pleasure, the unwavering desire of materialistic leisure, yet, destined for detriment. The fir was naively engrossed in its voyage; dismissing the possibility of a bittersweet destination; where fiery embers disrupted a fertile soil, its final abode, one it was, after all, fated to collide with. The glimmer of hope, ever still, invigorated every atom of its being; refusing to envision the dreary depths of the route it would most certainly undertake. Its thick needles lapsed into sepia and fell from their grace, with the fir rustling its shabby branches for the very last time. ‘You sat, looking pretty for us, for a night of merriment. You can go ahead and wither away into the ether now’, embellished only to be discarded. Farewell to the festive season… 

August 11, 2023 18:04

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3 comments

Tanya Humphreys
02:26 Aug 26, 2023

I have to critique stories for Reedsy, in exchange for people critiquing mine...that being said... This story is beautiful and compelling...so well written. My critique is that I don't like the whole story being in italics. Only the inner thinking, or special thoughts or noises perhaps should be accentuated this way as a way of breaking up a monotonous spiel. Starting out in italics suggests a memoir sort of scenario. But sort out which is which, and it will make for an easier, 'flowy' read.

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Iris Murphy
13:19 Aug 25, 2023

I truly love this story. The descriptions are just long enough that I can feel the air, and just short enough that they don't drag on forever. Truly, I have been blessed by this.

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Cookie 123
16:31 Aug 25, 2023

Wow that's brilliant feedback thank you! I'm only 19, I just completed my A Levels, one of which was English Literature that I was awarded an A* for, so this means more than you can know to a novice, aspiring writer like myself! This is the motivation I need to get started, I really appreciate it! I wrote this back in secondary school in year 10/11, I was probably around 15.

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