| General Fiction posted September 16, 2022 |
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Christmas shouldn't be a scary time of the year.
A Halloween Christmas
by John Ciarmello
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Ben rubbed his sleepy eyes and gazed out the kitchen window at the massive pile of leaves he and his father had raked the day before.
A slow grin dimpled his cheeks as he turned and hurried to the coat closet. He shuffled the dangling garments back and forth across the hanger bar and swung his mom’s furry coat over his shoulders. Its hem swept along the frosted grass as Ben charged the leaf pile. “I’m a big hairy ape,” he yelled. His voice echoed in the quiet of the morning with a monstrous tone. Then, at the very last second, he kicked his legs up and leaped fanny first into the leaves.
“Umph! Ooo! That’s going to leave a mark,” came a pained voice.
Ben scrambled to his feet. "Who's under there?"
The leaves rustled. "If you’re really a big hairy ape, there’s no one under here."
"I'm not," Ben said. "What are you doing under my pile of leaves?"
"I'm hiding from October."
"October? How do you hide from October?"
The leaves rustled and then became very still. "Under a pile of leaves, that's how.”
“Why would anyone want to hide from October? It’s a great time of the year.”
“Not for me, October means Halloween, and I hate Halloween."
Ben plopped down Indian style at the edge of the leaf pile and pulled at the grass. "That can’t be right. I don’t know a kid alive that hates Halloween."
"That might be true if I were a kid!"
“This is getting weird. Now come out of there.” Ben frantically scooped armfuls of leaves from the towering pile and tossed them to one side.
“No, please stop! I don’t want to have to frighten you away. I can sound scary–sometimes.“Blahaaa–whoooo!–boo!–Ooooooooooo. Ow, my throat!”
Ben stopped digging in the leaves and shook his head. “That wasn’t even close to scary.”
“Well, how about this…?”
“Okay, okay, if you're not a kid, what are you?”
“Oh, dear, are you sure you want me to tell you? It frightens me to say the words. I’m uh–uh–”
“Uh, what?”
“Uh, monster! There! I scared myself to death just saying it.”
Ben stepped back. “C’mon, a monster that hates Halloween!"
The leaves rustled and swelled near the top. "It's true; I hate Halloween. The other monsters tell me I couldn't scare a dragonfly off a bullfrog’s tongue. Well, guess what? I tried, and they’re right! So, I’m hiding under your pile of leaves until Halloween is over.”
“Yeah, but why my leaves? Why not the neighbor's leaves?”
Oh, please, that’s a whole different story.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s already a monster living at your neighbors, and it scared the by-jeepers out of me."
Ben tipped his head. “Another monster? Ah, you must mean Bracks.”
“Bracks?” the leaves quivered and drew in at the sides.
“Bracks is their family dog.”
“Dog? Does it have four skinny legs and shaggy brown hair?”
“Yep.”
“Does it make funny sniffing noises and squirt warm yellow water from its belly?”
Ben laughed. “Yep!”
“What a hideous creature.”
Ben chuckled again and wrapped himself tighter in his mother's coat as he watched the leaves whirl above his head. “I have a question,” Ben said.
“Oh, I hope I can answer it. I’m not very good with questions.”
“What does a monster do without Halloween?"
"Oh, that's easy; I’ve decided to become a Christmas monster." The leaves shot up and out in every direction. "I love Christmas!"
Ben watched as a pale, yellow hand with long, orange fingernails gently tugged on Ben’s long furry coat. "I'm pleased to meet you, ape person."
"I'm pleased to meet you too, and my name is Ben. What's your name?”
"Hum... um, I don't know much about names. Umm, how about Ben!”
“Nah, that's my name. Ben scratched his head. “Let’s see– how about Russell?”
“Russell?”
“Yeah, it’s perfect. That's all you do is rustle under those leaves, and I never see you. So, I'm going to call you Russell. Russell the Christmas monster.”
Two purple feet with green curly toenails slowly pushed through the leaves and wiggled freely in the open air. "That’s a great name." Finally, Russell raised his head and shook the leaves from his stringy red hair. He peered at Ben with one giant blue bloodshot eyeball that rested directly in the middle of his green wrinkly forehead. "You're not afraid of me, Ben?"
"How can I be afraid of a monster that loves Christmas? By the way, Russell, did you know Christmas is right around the corner?"
"I've looked around every corner, Ben, and I can't find Christmas."
"You can't find Christmas. Christmas is a time of the year."
"A time of the year?"
"Yeah, like, Halloween! Only Christmas is more of a feeling, a warm feeling. You know, family, presents, and all that stuff."
"So, how long do I feel for Christmas before I find it, and in which direction do I feel?”
"I think you're better off waiting for it to come to you, Russell.”
Russell slipped back under the leaves. "Will you wait with me?"
"Sure," Ben said. “Hey, Russell? I think you'll make a great Christmas monster."
"Thanks, Ben.”
Ben leaned back in the leaves and fell asleep. He opened his eyes hours later to find a note stuck to a piece of peeling bark on the tree beside him. The message was written oddly, and Ben couldn’t make heads nor tales of it. He twisted, turned, crumpled, and folded it, but he had no experience reading Monster writing.
Finally, he held the note to the sun, and the edges of the paper straightened while the heat shrank the squiggly letters. "Wow." Ben smiled. "I'm reading monster."
Ben read the note aloud, "Sorry, Ben, I couldn't wait for Christmas to come to me. I had to go and find it. Thanks for being such a good friend–wish me luck.”’
Ben put the note in his pocket. "Good luck Russell!" He whispered.
The weeks passed, and the days and nights turned cold. A blanket of snow covered the ground, and Ben watched out the window every day to see if he’d catch a glimpse of Russell. Ben hoped he’d found his way.
It was finally Christmas morning, and Ben sat beside the Christmas tree. He pushed the presents around and found the biggest to open first.
Then, he noticed a smaller box wrapped in dried fall leaves tucked neatly between the Christmas tree branches.
Ben peeled away the leaves and carefully opened the box. Inside was a picture of Russell standing beside Santa. Russell's white sharp-toothed smile stretched across his green wrinkled face, from one pointed ear to the other. On the back of the picture was written, “Dear Ben, thank you for sending Russell my way. It is truly a Halloween Christmas. Santa.”’
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Ben rubbed his sleepy eyes and gazed out the kitchen window at the massive pile of leaves he and his father had raked the day before.
A slow grin dimpled his cheeks as he turned and hurried to the coat closet. He shuffled the dangling garments back and forth across the hanger bar and swung his mom’s furry coat over his shoulders. Its hem swept along the frosted grass as Ben charged the leaf pile. “I’m a big hairy ape,” he yelled. His voice echoed in the quiet of the morning with a monstrous tone. Then, at the very last second, he kicked his legs up and leaped fanny first into the leaves.
“Umph! Ooo! That’s going to leave a mark,” came a pained voice.
Ben scrambled to his feet. "Who's under there?"
The leaves rustled. "If you’re really a big hairy ape, there’s no one under here."
"I'm not," Ben said. "What are you doing under my pile of leaves?"
"I'm hiding from October."
"October? How do you hide from October?"
The leaves rustled and then became very still. "Under a pile of leaves, that's how.”
“Why would anyone want to hide from October? It’s a great time of the year.”
“Not for me, October means Halloween, and I hate Halloween."
Ben plopped down Indian style at the edge of the leaf pile and pulled at the grass. "That can’t be right. I don’t know a kid alive that hates Halloween."
"That might be true if I were a kid!"
“This is getting weird. Now come out of there.” Ben frantically scooped armfuls of leaves from the towering pile and tossed them to one side.
“No, please stop! I don’t want to have to frighten you away. I can sound scary–sometimes.“Blahaaa–whoooo!–boo!–Ooooooooooo. Ow, my throat!”
Ben stopped digging in the leaves and shook his head. “That wasn’t even close to scary.”
“Well, how about this…?”
“Okay, okay, if you're not a kid, what are you?”
“Oh, dear, are you sure you want me to tell you? It frightens me to say the words. I’m uh–uh–”
“Uh, what?”
“Uh, monster! There! I scared myself to death just saying it.”
Ben stepped back. “C’mon, a monster that hates Halloween!"
The leaves rustled and swelled near the top. "It's true; I hate Halloween. The other monsters tell me I couldn't scare a dragonfly off a bullfrog’s tongue. Well, guess what? I tried, and they’re right! So, I’m hiding under your pile of leaves until Halloween is over.”
“Yeah, but why my leaves? Why not the neighbor's leaves?”
Oh, please, that’s a whole different story.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s already a monster living at your neighbors, and it scared the by-jeepers out of me."
Ben tipped his head. “Another monster? Ah, you must mean Bracks.”
“Bracks?” the leaves quivered and drew in at the sides.
“Bracks is their family dog.”
“Dog? Does it have four skinny legs and shaggy brown hair?”
“Yep.”
“Does it make funny sniffing noises and squirt warm yellow water from its belly?”
Ben laughed. “Yep!”
“What a hideous creature.”
Ben chuckled again and wrapped himself tighter in his mother's coat as he watched the leaves whirl above his head. “I have a question,” Ben said.
“Oh, I hope I can answer it. I’m not very good with questions.”
“What does a monster do without Halloween?"
"Oh, that's easy; I’ve decided to become a Christmas monster." The leaves shot up and out in every direction. "I love Christmas!"
Ben watched as a pale, yellow hand with long, orange fingernails gently tugged on Ben’s long furry coat. "I'm pleased to meet you, ape person."
"I'm pleased to meet you too, and my name is Ben. What's your name?”
"Hum... um, I don't know much about names. Umm, how about Ben!”
“Nah, that's my name. Ben scratched his head. “Let’s see– how about Russell?”
“Russell?”
“Yeah, it’s perfect. That's all you do is rustle under those leaves, and I never see you. So, I'm going to call you Russell. Russell the Christmas monster.”
Two purple feet with green curly toenails slowly pushed through the leaves and wiggled freely in the open air. "That’s a great name." Finally, Russell raised his head and shook the leaves from his stringy red hair. He peered at Ben with one giant blue bloodshot eyeball that rested directly in the middle of his green wrinkly forehead. "You're not afraid of me, Ben?"
"How can I be afraid of a monster that loves Christmas? By the way, Russell, did you know Christmas is right around the corner?"
"I've looked around every corner, Ben, and I can't find Christmas."
"You can't find Christmas. Christmas is a time of the year."
"A time of the year?"
"Yeah, like, Halloween! Only Christmas is more of a feeling, a warm feeling. You know, family, presents, and all that stuff."
"So, how long do I feel for Christmas before I find it, and in which direction do I feel?”
"I think you're better off waiting for it to come to you, Russell.”
Russell slipped back under the leaves. "Will you wait with me?"
"Sure," Ben said. “Hey, Russell? I think you'll make a great Christmas monster."
"Thanks, Ben.”
Ben leaned back in the leaves and fell asleep. He opened his eyes hours later to find a note stuck to a piece of peeling bark on the tree beside him. The message was written oddly, and Ben couldn’t make heads nor tales of it. He twisted, turned, crumpled, and folded it, but he had no experience reading Monster writing.
Finally, he held the note to the sun, and the edges of the paper straightened while the heat shrank the squiggly letters. "Wow." Ben smiled. "I'm reading monster."
Ben read the note aloud, "Sorry, Ben, I couldn't wait for Christmas to come to me. I had to go and find it. Thanks for being such a good friend–wish me luck.”’
Ben put the note in his pocket. "Good luck Russell!" He whispered.
The weeks passed, and the days and nights turned cold. A blanket of snow covered the ground, and Ben watched out the window every day to see if he’d catch a glimpse of Russell. Ben hoped he’d found his way.
It was finally Christmas morning, and Ben sat beside the Christmas tree. He pushed the presents around and found the biggest to open first.
Then, he noticed a smaller box wrapped in dried fall leaves tucked neatly between the Christmas tree branches.
Ben peeled away the leaves and carefully opened the box. Inside was a picture of Russell standing beside Santa. Russell's white sharp-toothed smile stretched across his green wrinkled face, from one pointed ear to the other. On the back of the picture was written, “Dear Ben, thank you for sending Russell my way. It is truly a Halloween Christmas. Santa.”’
 Recognized |
#16 September 2022 |
I wrote this twenty-three years ago for my then seven-year-old son, Eric. I'm proud to say he remembers the tale, which is all I ever needed to know. I hope you all enjoy this short detour from adult lit. I love you all! Best, JohnC.
P.S. Perhaps let me know if I've lost my inner child. :)
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and 2 member cents. P.S. Perhaps let me know if I've lost my inner child. :)
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