The Christmas Angel

A different take on a Scrooge-like tale.

"Kinley Ashlyn Trabor!" my mom screamed up the stairs at me. "You tracked slush into the house again, young lady!"  

I groaned. "Mom," I yelled. "I'm sixteen! I'm not young." 

I could hear my mom grunt with frustration. "Come mop it up!" 

"Mom..." I rolled off my bed, passing my mirror and admiring my long blond hair and green eyes, adjusting my shirt as I left my room. "It wasn't me..." 

I plodded down the stairs. The footprints of slush were twice the size of my feet. "Callen! You tracked in slush! I'm not cleaning it up again!" I called to my eighteen year old brother. "Callen!" 

"What, Kinley?" Callen walked into the room from the kitchen, where the door to the basement--and his room--was. He rubbed his eyes. He was only wearing jeans and his hair looked like he had just rolled out of bed. He glanced at the slush-tracks. "Their yours." 

Within seconds he had bounded up the stairs and I could hear the shower running. 

"I swear, sometimes I could just--"

"Just what, Kinley?" My mom called. 

"Nothing." I mumbled. I retrieved a gently-used towel from the laundry bin and mopped up the slush-prints, muttering all the while. Why did I have to do everything? 

I tossed the towel back into the hamper. My mom came up behind me, her now bottle-blond hair drooping into my face. "Thanks for picking up your mess, sweetie. Let's not let it happen again." 

I groaned inwardly. "Whatever." I eased away from her, making my way back up to my red-walled room. Christmas lights were bright on the tree in the foyer, sending a colorful illusion of comfort around the room. Christmas had become like any other day in my household--nothing. I passed the tree without feeling. I think everyone did. 

I closed the door to my room and latched it. The red walls were faded. I had Christmas lights strung up over my dresser and an small, old silver tree on my desk in a half-assed attempt at Holiday Cheer. Tomorrow was Christmas morning. 

"Yay." I said aloud as I changed into my pajamas. "Another effing holiday to waste away with." 

With that, I climbed into bed. 

Tink. Tink. Tink. 

Tink. Tink.

I rolled over, pulling the blanket over my head. 

Tink. Tink. THUD. 

The loud bang woke me up and I sat straight as a rod in my bed. 

"Wow, I thought you'd never wake up." 

I jumped at the voice. Sitting on the foot of my bed was a girl in white skinny jeans, a gold tank top, and a cowl neck white sweater. She tossed aside her long red hair. "Gosh, you sleep like you're dead." 

I started hyperventilating. "W-why are you in my room?" I stammered. 

"You aren't very Christmas-y." She answered. She stood, smiling at me with huge, thickly lashed blue eyes. "You need more spirit." 

"Look, whoever and whatever you are," I said, sitting up straighter as she click-clacked in gold heels over to the side of my bed. "I don't need any help with my Christmas Spirit." 

She smiled with such sincerity that my stomach churned. "Sure you do. You need lots of help." 

Suddenly I found myself standing, facing her. Her hands were on my wrists. Did she just pull me out of bed? 

"I'm dreaming; I've got to be. Just a dream. Just a dream." I squeezed my eyes closed, wrenching my arms away from her. I pinched my arm. 

"One, two, three." I whispered. I opened my eyes. 

Blue eyes were only an inch from mine. I yelped, jumping backwards onto the bed. "Will you leave already?!" 

"Nope." She giggled. I threw up inside my mouth. "My name's Natalia. It means Christmas day in Latin." 

"Lovely." I groaned. "Alright, look! I'm happy! I'm full of Christmas!" I skipped circles around her. "Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer!" 

"Not working." She said. I groaned again. 

"Fine. What can I do to get you to leave?" I asked, exasperated. I put my hands on my hips. "Because obviously, this dream isn't going to end until I do whatever you say." 

The angel--or whatever she was--seated herself comfortably on my dresser, as if she'd done so a thousand times. "Step one: Why do you hate Christmas?" 

I huffed, sitting on my bed. "Because it sucks." 

"We need more than that." 

"Alright, fine." 

"More feeling, Kinley." 

"Alright!" I sighed, knowing she needed the true answer, and thinking back to when Christmas had meant something in my house. The last instance I could recall of that was when I was eight, and my parents bought me a bike. That day, my grandfather had died of the cancer that had been plaguing him. "I hate Christmas because it's the day my grandfather died." 

"That's a good start, Kinley." Natalia said. "Step two: What have you done to improve Christmas here lately?" 

I huffed, rolling my eyes. "Nothing." 

Natalia nodded. "Did you love your grandfather dearly?"

I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes at the mention of him. "Yes. More than almost anything." 

Natalia nodded. "Do you know what your parents have done to try to liven Christmas?" 

I shook my head. She continued. "Let's have a look." 

She motioned to my dresser mirror, and all at once it came alive with a motion-picture of my parents, a few years ago judging by the color of my mom's hair. They were wrapping presents excitedly. From the corner of the screen-like thing came my feet. Yup; I remembered this now. This was the Christmas from five years ago.

"Oh, uh, honey." My mom in the movie said. She was pushing the half-wrapped presents under her and my dad's bed. "Oh, we were just..."

"I know Santa isn't real." movie-me said bluntly. I winced. Was I really that harsh back then?

"Oh, honey, of course he--" movie-dad said before movie-me cut him off.

"Isn't. Goodnight mom and dad." Movie-me hugged my parents, then left the room. My movie-parents' faces fell as the exchanged glances. 

"Alright." I said quietly to Natalia. "I've seen enough." 

"Have you?" She answered, almost harshly compared to her previous tone. She looked at me seriously as the video changed. It was my parents again, only I'm positive this video is from earlier today--probably while I was sleeping. 

"I wish I knew what makes them so unhappy around the holidays." My movie-mom was saying to my movie-dad as they finished putting presents under the Christmas tree downstairs. 

"So do I, dear, so do I." My movie-dad replied. He sighed. "She's been like this ever since...ever since my father died." 

My movie-mom nodded solemnly as she wrapped her arms around him and he embraced her. She snuggled into his shoulder as they stared at the bright tree. I wanted to look away--I shouldn't have seen that intimate moment between my parents. 

"Yes." I answered Natalia finally. "I've seen enough." 

"Really? I don't think so." Natalia's tone had quite an edge to it. The movie changed again. I saw myself, only I looked a lot older. A little girl was on my lap and I was reading the last lines of a Rudolph book to her.

"Mommy, do you believe in Santa Claus?" the little girl said to the older me. I was shell-shocked. 'Mommy'? 

"And, with you not wanting to have to lie nor tell the truth to your daughter..." Natalia commented as the movie-me stuttered. 

"Well, honey." The older movie-me said finally. "It doesn't matter what I believe. What matters is that you get to be right now so that Santa will come in the morning!" 

The little girl happily ran off down a hallway, movie-me close behind, as the film faded out and my dresser mirror was plain again. 

"So, what have you learned?" Natalia asked sincerely. I really, really wanted to slap her.

Reluctantly I withheld myself, digging deep to unearth what I had recollected. "That I became a Royal Christmas B***h after my grandfather died, and that my parents don't know what to do about it, and that if I keep it up I'll have a kid that I can't lie to?" The last part I was sketchy on. 

"Close, but not quite. You got the important part though." Natalia stood up, her heels clicking as she walked towards me. I was shocked no one had woken up yet. "You've learned your lesson. Goodbye, Kinley." 

The room bursted with a sudden bright white light, then I found myself laying in bed under my covers, drenched in a cold sweat. I sat up ramrod straight. 

The room was empty, and mostly dark, except for a little light let in by the moon shining through my window...

"Mommy, do you believe in Santa Claus?" my four-year old daughter, Aislynn, asked me as we sat in an over-stuffed chair by the Christmas tree. We had just finished reading Rudolph--her new favorite story. It was going to be hard to pry it away from her when the holidays ended.

"Of course I do, sweetie." I answered her, smiling and stroking her blond curly hair. Now, let's get you to bed so that Santa will come in the morning!" I tickled her, and she hopped off my lap and darted down the hallway of our house. My husband came in and kissed me, then took off after her. And as I watched him snuggle her into bed with a stuffed Rudolph, I couldn't help but remember Natalia. To this day, even fifteen years later, I couldn't decide if she were a dream or actually a Christmas Angel come to save my holiday spirit, and in turn, my daughter's. If I did have a chance to see her again, I would thank her, because every Christmas since that night had been like the ones I had had before I turned eight. 

Author's Note

What do you think??

Reviews

[~ Stefanie ~]

This was defintely a great story to read with Christmas just around the corner. I wish it would have been a little longer, expanding just a bit more. But you are the writer and it is your choice on how the story turns out :) I really liked it and I am glad I took the time to read it. I thought it was well-written and the details you provided were very good. Excellent work!

[Tanya B Wear]

i think you should extended it a little, so kinley refects on the christmas that comes in tomorrow, and uhhh...i don't really resemble Natalia personality, so you know...when you continue "to have and to hold" make a resemblence please....can't wait to read more ;) i also like how all your characters names are unique, either in origin or in spellin, don't you think tanya is a unique name??? jk but really if you think about it....

[emma]

i think it definitely has Christmas Spirit! i really liked reading about Kinley as she saw her parents feeling sad about her not believing in Santa. it reminds me of my experience when i found out Santa wasn't real. I was ten, i think, and i just flat-out asked my mom is Santa was real. when she told me the truth, i cried. for hours. i did not handle the situation well. my point with that little story is that its hard to stop believing in something sacred like Santa and it was obviously hard for Kinley's parents to see her so cynical. it was nice how you ended it with Kinley able to give her daughter the perfect Christmas and was no longer so unhappy about the whole 'holidays' situation. i think you made this a lovable Christmas Story and is the perfect way to get into the Christmas spirit!! great write! (by the way, sorry if your not interested in my little story):P