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Tue 18 Dec, 2007 07:35 pm
Ornaments
Its a general Christmas day. The neighbor out shoveling the thick white snow after a long Christmas morning of the family opening their Christmas place. It also seemed like this Christmas had been a lot colder then any other day. Mariot stood on the front porch of the house.
She had just gotten up and she had a warm glass of hot coffee in her hands. She sighed her hot breath rose up into the sky. She was wearing a pink bathrobe and pink pajamas. Pink is her favorite color. Her stomach elegantly gutted out for she was 4 months with child.
"Merry Christmas," said a familiar voice.
She turned around to her husband in his twenties. With a clean shave face and curly black hair.
"Merry Christmas," Mariot said.
Mariot walked back inside with her husband. They were a very happy family and they couldn't wait to celebrate Christmas with their child someday.
Mariot saw the clutter of lined paper and pens on the wooden oak table decorated for the season with a candy cane table cloth. The papers were from last night they were planning on names for their child. What the child were to wear and what they were going to do for the nursery?
Mariot smiled for she was happy with the outcome. They weren't going to make the same mistake as other parents. Blue for boys and pink for girls. They were going to go for a more standard color that would be good for both sexes.
They wanted this birth to be a surprise.
Her husband walked in the kitchen and smiled at her. He kissed her on the cheek gently. He smelled of clone and she wanted to keep him close. She noticed her husband had already clothed himself.
He wore a t-shirt, In this weather, and blue jeans.
"I'm going to be right back Allan I have to change," she said.
She gently dashed up the stairs and walked into the master bedroom. The oak bed and Christmas color bed sheets were made nicely. She opened the white closet and picked out a black long sleeve dress.
"Perfect," she said.
She gently took of her pajamas. Almost as if cold winter wind had embraced her. She put on the dress and began her way downstairs.
She then stopped and looked to the nursery. She smiled and rubbed her belly.
"This will be your room," she said.
She went downstairs and began to make some lunch for her and her husband. She decided to use some of the leftover ham to make them some sandwiches.
"Hun I'm going make sandwiches," she said.
"All right Mariot,"
As Mariot began to make sandwiches she heard the doorbell ring. Mariot went to answer it, after all it is her job.
She opened the door to see a grubby man with a western hat on. He smelled heavily of alcohol . He wore a black t-shirt and some blue jeans. Over his t-shirt he wore a jean jacket.
He had western boots with spurs on it.
"Hello their lady," he said in his Western accent.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I'm family I'm your uncle Bill and this is your cousin Alex," he said.
Even the mans breath smelled of alcohol and smokes. She saw the young boy who she didn't see behind beside the man since his larger stomach hid the boy so well.
The boy didn't seem to old, probably fifteen, he wore a black t-shirt and a black sweater over it.
The boy wore converse and looked your average teenager.
"I think you have the wrong house," she said about to close the door.
"What do you say?" the man asked blocking her way.
"You may have the wrong house," she said.
The man pushed himself in the house and shut the door. She now realized the boy had a box of ornaments.
"Put those ornaments on the tree," he ordered her.
"I'm calling the police," Mariot said.
Allan finally walked in because of the commotion. He seemed a little startled for he didn't know these men standing in front of his front entrance.
"Who are you?" Allan asked.
"Allan call the police they broke in!" Mariot said frantic.
For being so large Bill moved quickly like a lion or cheetah. He grabbed Allan.
"Listen hear buddy you ain't calling no police you going to sit down and you are going to give my son the best Christmas he ever had," Bill said.
"I don't follow threats," Allan said.
Bill grabbed Allan and picked him up in the air. Mariot began to freak out he wasn't going to kill Allan. Bill placed him firmly on the sofa.
"All I'm asking is for a Christmas for my son a good one," Bill said.
"Fine if thats all," Allan said.
Mariot looked at her husband wide eyed. And Allan shook his head and Mariot agree if this man wasn't going to hurt them then they were fine.
Mariot grabbed the ornament box. She opened up the box to see many different kinds of sewn voodoo dolls.
"Now we can sing Christmas carols ain't that right Alex," said Bill.
"Right dad," Alex said his accent not as thick and slather on like his fathers.
The day went by so fast that Mariot didn't realize that it is evening. She looked at the time 6o'clock. And she didn't seem to be having a bad time either.
Bill actually was quite hospitable then what she thought. Bill told Mariot about the story about how Alex doesn't talk much after his mother died. And how his wife died.
"Last but not least a Christmas feast," Bill said taking out a knife.
He handed Mariot the knife.
"Well hunt down the wild beast," Bill said.
"I have ham in the refrigerator,"
All the sudden Bill and Alex both laughed like maniacs.
"We don't want ham girl," Bill said.
"We want the man," Alex finished.
Mariot immediately understood.She couldn't kill her husband. She dashed for the phone, but Bill caught her by the hair and sat her down.
"I'll cook don't have to be in a hurry to cook for us since you've been a nice hostess," Bill said.
They had been in the kitchen for some time. At first she heard the screams and death cry of Allan. Then she smelled herbs and the cooking of flesh it made her sick.
Finally they came out with a giant feast. And in the middle of the dinner table her husband laid looking at her and tied like a pig. His blank eyeless face looked at her.
She began to cry.
"Don't be overjoyed by my cooking," Bill said with a toothless smile.
That night they ate Allan. Mariot didn't know who was going to be next.
"Well its time to collect our things," Bill said cheerfully.
Bill walked out the door after collecting all the stuff.
"Yes bye the way Merry Christmas," Bill said, "And thanks for the meal."
They left Mariot to cry by herself. And later the porch stained in her own sauce.
You didn't care for my earlier critique, so this time I just edited it into what it might have been. Not my sort of story at all, but then it's your story.
****
Mariot stood on her front porch, her breath steaming in the cold. Up and down her street neighbors shoveled snow before the arrival of Christmas guests. It seemed colder this Christmas. She warmed her hands with her morning cup of hot coffee. An icy wind molded her pink bathrobe against her swelling abdomen.
The familiar voice of her husband whispered, Merry Christmas in her ear as he folded her in an embrace. Merry Christmas, she snuggled back into his arms. Their warmth was no match for the snow, so they retreated back into the safety of their little home. Mariot hoped that their soon-to-be child would have her husbands dark curly hair and ready smile. She smiled at the thought of Christmas next year.
So many plans. What colors shall the baby wear, and how to paint the nursery. No standard clichés of blues for boys and pinks for girls for this child. This child would be as unique as his parents. She was certain that the baby would be a boy, but they had decided not to peek at the ultrasound. Let the baby be as surprise.
Her husband walked in the kitchen and smiled at her. He kissed her on the cheek gently. He smelled of cologne and she wanted to keep him close.
"I'll be right back Allan I have to change," she said. She hurried up the stairs into their master bedroom. Her husband had already made up the bed with its Christmas themed sheets. She stepped into her closet and picked out a black long sleeved dress. "Perfect".
She felt a sudden chill, almost as if cold winter wind had invaded their bedroom. "Someone just walked over my grave". She put on her dress and then stopped to look fondly into the nursery. She smiled and rubbed her belly. "This will be your room," she whispered.
It was time for lunch, so she decided to make sandwiches of the left over ham from the previous night's supper. As she spread mayonnaise, she called out to "lunch" to her husband.
"All right. Be right there".
The door bell rang. "Whoever could it be" she thought and yelled for her husband to answer the door. The bell continued to ring, so with a long sigh, Mariot went to answer it.
Standing in front the door was a grubby man wearing a western style hat, and smelling of alcohol. His greasy black t-shirt and jeans looked as if they had never been washed. He wore a faded old denim jacket far too light for the weather. He stamped his feet in scuffed western boots to rid them of snow and drawled, spurs on it. "howdy there, little lady".
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Why, I'm your old Uncle Bill come to pay a Christmas visit. This here handsome lad is my beamish boy, your cousin Alex". Mariot took a step back away from the combined reek of cheap booze and tobacco. It was then she first saw a small boy, probably no more than fifteen, half-hidden behind the big-bellied man. The boy, Alex, was dressed like and no better than his daddy. Beneath a cloth cap the boy had stringy hair, and a half a dozen piercings in his face.
"I think you've made a mistake, and have the wrong house," as she moved to close the door.
A toe of the man's boot blocked the door, "What do you say? That's no way to treat kin".
"You have the wrong house," she said again and shoved harder against the door. The man gave a little laugh at the foolishness of her resistance, and pushed back so hard that Mariot stumbled backward. The man stood soiling her entryway, and the boy followed.
The man took a box from the boy and thrust it out into Mariot's hands, "Put these ornaments on the tree". His tone was peremptory, and not to be denied.
"Allen, Call the police" Mariot yelled to her husband.
"What. What did you just say?" Allan came into the room, and stopped; startled at finding two filthy strangers standing inside his house. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"
"Just call the police, they broke in!" Mariot repeated becoming annoyed that Allen wasn't more visibly angry.
The big stranger stepped forward and with both hands shoved Allen causing him to fall back onto the floor. "Listen old buddy, you ain't calling no police, or nobody else, see. You just sit down and do what you're told. You fine folks are going to give my boy the best Christmas he ever had".
"I'm not afraid of you and I won't be threatened." Allan tried to look brave, but Mariot knew he was badly shaken.
Bill grabbed Allan by his hair and lifted him off of the floor, and shoved him again. Allen stumbled back onto their couch, and Mariot began to scream. The boy Alex produced a roll of duct tape from somewhere inside his tattered sweater, and Allen was bound hand and foot. When he tried to protest, they taped his mouth as well.
"All I'm asking is for is a wonderful Christmas for my son," Bill said in a reasonable tone.
Mariot looked at her husband wide-eyed, but Allan shook his head slightly to calm her. Perhaps if they gave this crazy intruder what he wanted, they wouldn't be hurt. They were unable to fight these men, and to resist risked endangering the baby. Mariot seemed to understand, and carried the ornament box to their Christmas tree. The ornaments weren't traditional, but a horrid selection of badly sewen voodoo dolls. She hung the bizarre ornaments with trembling fingers, and stepped back hoping that the intruders would be satisfied.
"Now we will sing Christmas carols; ain't that right Alex," said Bill. "Right dad," Alex said his accent not as thick and oily as his fathers. They sang. And sang, and sang all through the afternoon. Allen, unable to move, was clearly becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Before Mariot realized it, it was evening and dark outside. Perhaps they'll go now, she thought.
"Last but not least, a Christmas feast," Bill said taking a buck knife from the top of his boot.. He grinned and handed Mariot the knife. "We'll hunt down the wild beast," Bill said.
"I have ham in the refrigerator, will that be alright?"
Alex giggled, and soon Bill was bent over laughing so hard he could hardly breath.
"We don't want ham girl," Bill gasped at last.
"We want the man," Alex finished, and pointed to Allen struggling on the couch.
Now it was clear that Bill and his boy had no intention of leaving them alive. Mariot made a break for the door, but Bill caught her by the hair she sat down hard on the floor. He had her mouth taped and her hands and feet bound before she could even catch her breath. "No hurry. I'll cook for us since you've been a nice hostess," Bill said. He walked calmly over to Allen and cut his throat. A terrible gush of bright red blood pulsed out onto the walls and carpet. Alex giggled again.
She could smell herbs and hear the sizzle of seared flesh frying on her new Viking range. Her gorge rose, but she had to choke it back or risk asphyxiation. She couldn't avert her eyes from the groaning Christmas dinner table. Resting on her best platter was Allen's head, a roasted apple in his mouth. His blank eyeless face looked at her, and she began to cry. "Don't my cooking smell delicious? You really ought to try some of this" Bill said picking a bit of gristle from between his teeth.
Alex came over and stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders. "Well its time to get along," Bill said cheerfully and belched. "Oh yes, and by the way have a very Merry Christmas
" Alex slid the Shun blade across her white throat in one even motion. "
and thanks for the meal."
Asherman,
Laeka is not a native speaker, he's been in the United States only
2 years, so naturally his take on that story is different.
Thank you Asherman.
Thank you very much Calamity Jane
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