Christmas Gallows: The Ghost Of Christmas Present & Future
The last of the series, this post serves to wrap up the last of the Christmas tale this year, the finale, the Omega.
Not knowing the dangers of “toils and snares” that lay ahead of him, he took a brave step forward into raging thunderstorms and pouring rain. But disappointment.
Alas, the lack of what was most important was fulfilled. He found it, left it, and jetted off to his next destination. What more did he expect? What more could he expect?
He was just living according to his expectations, not others. What can he say but speechless words of solitude? Even the seemingly encouraging vices that spew from his comrades’ mouths are full of lies and deceit. The very people whom he entrusted his rightful brain to.
But it was a first, and he was proud.
This wasn’t going to be part of a past that he’ll soon forget, no, it wasn’t.
This was going to be the present, and the future.
Blessed Christmas to all gratefully blessed citizens out there, celebrating a heartwarming Christmas is always such a lovely sight. Toiling in front of a square box isn’t exactly the holiday mood.
But it was going to pass away, so be it.
That, was the ghost of Christmas past.
But he wasn’t going to regret. He never did, and never will. No matter.
The Christmas Gallows: Walking in a winter pile of work.
Childhood.
When did we lose it? When did we even lose the sight of it?
Stuck here in mindless shadows and silhouettes of who I don’t want to be. Found myself crammed in open spaces, ready to escape to corners where I’m familiarly oriented. Often misconceiving the facts of life and undermining reality.
Innocence.
Notion of misconception. Lost in transition. Pre-pubescent years and the adolescent stages. You ask; what do we have to lose? Everything, my dear, everything.
An outstretch of the brain, an overstretch of the mind. Certain times, when it feels too easy to be true, often the mind deceives, the brain misconceives. The messages are sent in lies and deceit.
Dangerous Liaisons.
Not the typical kind, but the ones in your mind.
You work less, gain more. What’s there to be ashamed of?
Frankensteins in the world of hate and scorn.
That makes two of us. You, and me. The reader, and the writer.
Christmas is near, but no season is complete without the pile. That pile of work. Ahh yes, that wonderful pile of work. And I, buried beneath this bung-hole, further down to where fossils survive. I, proclaim myself a Christmas tree, not the one full of joyful lights and happy green leaves. The fake one, the plastic one, in this world of decrepit immorality. The shorter one, in this world of sky-high expectations. The one with no more presents under the tree, the post-Christmas.
I surrender.
The Christmas Gallows: The Once-white Christmas.
Remember when Christmas used to be white? Remember when your laughter was stirred in together with the rest of the toddlers, all in the joy and jubilee of opening up your presents? One by one, with gentle reminders from that pesky sibling of yours not to tear the nice wrapping paper?
Remember when Christmas used to be white? Remember when your parents didn’t ask you what presents you wanted before Christmas, but revealing each present never failed to satisfy your cravings? All the presents you got was exactly what you wanted, and you had simple demands, simple dreams, in fact; unexpensive ones?
Remember when Christmas used to be white? When your sister spent the whole holidays up to Christmas with you, singing along with you to Christmas carols, patronising you and your harmless desires of wanting to play past Christmas’ toys and dingbats with her? Remember how she always got time to play with you when you were young?
Remember when Christmas used to be white? Remember when hanging up the Christmas tree and decorating it was a family affair? And everyone had so much fun doing it? Remember how we always had family time together in front of the TV, watching and laughing along to some shows? Remember how they used to laugh at your jokes? Or, in fact, your guile?
I remember.
