A Classic Christmas

It doesn’t get cold here.

No snuggling under heaps of blankets while chestnuts roast over an open fire. Just mild temps and early sunsets to signal that winter is upon us. Of course the town does what it can to usher in the Christmas season, tinseling the lamp posts, draping the palm trees in twinkling lights, setting up the pillow-stuffed Santa in the middle of the mall, but there’s a reason no Christmas classics start on a flat stretch of Florida stripmalls.

It just doesn’t feel right. But it did feel like missing out.

For the first three decades of my life, I tolerated sub-tropical mediocrity, passing up snow boots for year round flip flops and stockings hung from the kitchen island with care. If I’d ever had any kind of rebellious streak in me, I would’ve headed north much sooner, but even as an adult, I was a good kid, and good kids spend the important holidays with their families, who were deeply rooted in the Florida sand. 

My husband wasn’t so stuck on tradition.

He knew how desperately I wanted to see snow and live out my classic Christmas fantasy with backing vocals by Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole. So he told both sides of the family we’d be MIA that year, found us a cute cabin in some backroads Vermont town I’d never heard of, and presented me with plane tickets over dinner. 

The flight wasn’t terrible, though I almost crushed Travis’ hand every time the plane shook with turbulence, and I kept my face smooshed against the car window for almost the entire drive from the airport, pointing out every snowflake to Travis just in case he missed them while distracted by the menial task of keeping us on the road.

I filled my phone with pictures of bare trees laden with white branches and picturesque fields that rolled into a hilly horizon, until Travis tapped my arm and pointed to an upcoming turn down a small road.

Travis: This is it!

Meredith: We’re here?

Travis: Yep, it’s just down there.

I squealed, having forgotten that I was an adult with responsibilities and a mortgage the minute that first blast of cold air had hit me, and scooted as far forward in my seat as I could, fingers drumming eagerly against the dashboard.

I couldn’t have picked a more perfect setting out of a Kinkade painting. I’d never thought of a building as “nestled” before, but that cabin was nestled in the trees, the boughs framing its low pitched roof in pine needles. A thick blanket of white covered the ground and capped the porch railing. Frost trimmed the windows in delicate, crystalline patterns. I felt guilty as I stepped out of the car, leaving tracks where that had previously only been perfect, undisturbed snow, but not guilty enough to keep from running all around the cabin, taking pictures from every angle.

Travis unloaded our bags while I held my impromptu photoshoot and then called me up to the porch, where we stood together and enjoyed the stillness and the quiet until the crisp air had turned our noses Rudolph red. I could’ve stayed there for the rest of the day, watching the gray winter sunlight fade into a starry night, but once the shivers set in, Travis dragged me inside for my very first fireside cocoa wrapped in a newly gifted holly leaf quilt. 

Travis: So, what do you think, Mer?

Meredith: It’s beautiful. 

I reached out from my blanket cocoon to cup his face. 

Meredith: Thank you. It’s everything I always wanted.

Travis: Weeeell…maybe not everything. Yet.

I curled my legs beneath me and shuffled across the couch to him on my knees, until my nose was squashed against his cheek and he was laughing while trying to push me away.

Meredith: There’s more?

Travis: It’s not really Christmas without a tree, is it?

Meredith: We’re getting a tree?!

He finally succeeded in fending me off and nodded, masking his proud grin behind the rim of his Santa mug. 

Travis: I did a little looking and found a tree farm not far from here. I figure we’ll stay in tonight, have some dinner, rest up, and go tomorrow after we check out the town.

After setting aside my cocoa, I flung my blanket wide and tackled him against the arm of the couch in a tight hug. With my mouth next to his ear, I whispered with devilish delight, “I get to use the saw.”

Travis, stage whispering back: Not a chance.

***

The next day, we took our time eating brunch at a small diner decked out in antique decorations, window shopping along a very Hallmark Main Street, and buying a few cheap ornaments before returning to the cabin. A couple of hot showers and another round of cocoa later, Travis pulled up directions to the tree farm and agreed it was time to unleash me upon the evergreens.

***

Meredith: I thought you said it was just outside town?

Travis: Apparently “just outside” is subjective.

Meredith: It’s been a while. We probably passed it and didn’t notice.

Travis: How could we miss a whole farm full of trees? That’s, like, the easiest thing to see!

Meredith: Well, when it’s surrounded by nothing but other trees…

Travis: Let’s just go a little further. If we don’t see it in, say, a mile, we’ll turn around.

Just as I was beginning to lose hope and Travis was grumbling about finding a spot wide enough to make a u-turn, a small sign crept out from the woodlands, declaring the next right would take us to the Yown Family Farm with Christmas trees a’plenty. I pointed it out to Travis, who exhaled with relief and switched on the blinker. 

Travis: I don’t think that’s the name of the place I was looking for, but a farm’s a farm. Told you I’d find one. And you were starting to doubt me.

Meredith: Who? Me? Never, mon capitaine. 

We crawled down a narrow dirt road, bouncing through potholes that felt like they were getting progressively big enough to swallow us whole. I held on to the edges of my seat to help steady myself until we finally emerged into an equally craterous and mostly empty parking lot. A rust-stained trailer with garbage bags taped over empty window frames stood at one end, facing a splintery wooden stall hung with a drooping banner at the other. Its text was faded, but the smudgy Christmas tree illustration got the message across. 

Not exactly the cornerstone of family-friendly holiday cheer I’d been expecting, but I turned to Travis with an optimistic (and not at all strained) smile.

Meredith: This seems…nice.

He’d stopped the car to idle in the middle of the deserted lot while he looked around, brow furrowed and frowning.

Travis: We can go somewhere else.

Meredith: We’re here already. We might as well look around, right?

He scratched his beard with an unconvinced sound. 

Travis: I’m not sure it’s even open…

As he said that, an elderly woman who seemed more coat-and-scarf than human came trundling down the sparse line of uneven plastic candy canes leading from the field of trees. When she looked up and saw us, her face lit up and she scurried to get behind the stall, where she stared at our car with wide, hopeful eyes.

Meredith: Aw, we can’t leave now! She’s so happy to see us. Come on.

After a few nudges, Travis reluctantly pulled into a spot and parked.

My breath puffed in white clouds as soon as I stepped out and I hugged myself with a giggle. Travis rounded the car and placed his arm around my shoulders, tugging me close as we walked to the stall and its expectant occupant. Beneath the cheerful red scarf tied around her head, the old woman’s features sagged into deep wrinkles. My heart twinged when I saw the blue tint to her papery lips, like she’d been stuck outside for far too long, but her eyes, which remained glued on us, were bright and keen. She rubbed her mittened hands together and blew into them before clasping them beneath her chin.

Old Woman: Hello, my dears, welcome!

Meredith, cold and a little breathless, but cheerful: Hi. Are you open?

Old Woman: Of course; right up to the twenty-fifth! It just gets quiet this close to Christmas, especially these days. Seems there’s less holiday spirit to go around every year. Everyone just orders plastic junk off their phones and we’re left to rot.

Travis, chilly, friendly: This one’s got enough Christmas cheer to make up for the entire town.

Meredith, laughing: At least this year. It’s my first time experiencing a real winter. I feel like a kid again.

The old woman chuckled and reached over to pat my arm. Her hand was ice cold even through her mitten and I felt another sympathetic pang in my chest. 

Old Woman: We need more of that. People like you keep us going.

Travis: Hopefully you’ve got some decent trees left.

Old Woman, admonishing him playfully: Better than decent, young man. My family’s been growing here for generations. Do you know what you’re looking for?

Before I could start asking for the 24-foot McMansion special, Travis interjected with a Grinch-like dose of realism.

Travis: Small. We’re renting a cabin and just want to have a little something to decorate.

The old woman nodded, eyes nearly disappearing in the folds of her thoughtful squint.

Old Woman: Then you’re gonna want to go along this path here with the candy canes and take a right at the fork. There are some runts down that way that could use some TLC.

Meredith: So, how does this work? We just find one and chop it down?

Old Woman: Yep. You’ll need one of these, of course.

She stooped with a groan and fished around beneath her stall. She came up again brandishing a bow saw, old and heavy, not like the plastic handled ones I’d seen at the hardware store. I grinned at Travis and started to reach for it, but he quickly batted my hands aside and claimed it for himself.

Old Woman: No charge to walk the farm, only if you find something. We only have a few rules. Obviously, that saw is not a toy, so no playing about with it. Don’t go past any of the roped off sections. We close at nightfall, so when it starts to get dark, head back here.

We agreed to her terms and I pulled Travis down the lane to find our runt, only for her to stop us with a thin shout that almost got snatched away by the breeze.

Old Woman: If you see Porter, tell him I said to give you a ride!

We waved, unsure exactly who Porter was or what kind of ride he might give us, and set off once more. 

I stepped heavily, reveling in the crunch of snow beneath my feet, and smiled into the snow flurries carried on whistling gusts of frigid wind. The only thing that would’ve made it more perfect was having a hot drink to cold and maybe a scarf to bury my nose in. I snuggled deeper into my jacket and glanced around, eager to begin our search.

My smile faded slightly as I took in the wilted trees on either side of the path. Brown pine needles circled their trunks like discarded skirts. Their branches tangled in unkempt disarray, like boney limbs trying to drag each other down. Their dark contrast with the snow only made them appear more stark and withered. When I glanced over my shoulder to Travis, it was clear he was having the same sense of disappointment I was.

Travis: Not even Charlie Brown could love these things.

Meredith: Everything’s dead. Why would she send us this way? 

Travis: I’m beginning to think she wasn’t all there. Come on, let’s go back. That other place I found originally can’t be far. We can still get a tree.

I felt bad agreeing; the old woman had been so nice and our being there really seemed to have made her day. As we walked back down the path between fields of coniferous skeletons, I debated out loud what excuse I would give her, that we just hadn’t found something, that I wasn’t feeling well, that my Floridian blood had frozen over, making it impossible to continue. Something that was gentle and wouldn’t point to the farm she was so proud of as the problem. Travis didn’t offer any feedback; he was studying the ground, the trees, the sky, eyes flitting back and forth like he was trying to decode some secret message.

Finally, I asked him.

Meredith: What is it?

He exhaled shortly through his nose, still mulling something over, and held out an arm, stopping me.

Travis: We should be back by now.

Meredith, unsure: You think? 

Travis: Yeah. We hadn’t gone that far.

I ran my tongue nervously back and forth across the back of my teeth and got on tiptoe, like it would help make the parking lot appear.

Meredith: That’s…odd.

Travis: Yeah.

We shuffled in place, staying close while we discussed whether going back or continuing on was the better option. The sky was beginning to darken overhead, the swirls of pale gray darkening to granite. I hugged Travis’ arm, confused how we could’ve become so lost without ever stepping off the trail.

Porter: Hey there! You two alright?

I screamed, short and shrill, and whipped around, dragging Travis with me. A large, furry hoofed horse stared back at us from a few yards away, large teeth clicking against its bit. Travis jostled me behind him, his fist clenching around the bow saw, until a man’s face appeared between the horse’s ears with a friendly wave. He was older, his face lined, wearing a beat up cap, and he was standing in the front of an old fashioned sleigh. Travis lowered the saw with a softly muttered curse.

Meredith, to herself/Travis: What was the name that lady mentioned…(louder, uncertain, to Porter) Porter?

Porter: The same! You must’ve spoken to my mother. You guys get lost?

Travis: I…guess. But I’m not sure how.

Porter, with a good natured laugh: Easy to get turned around out here. Everything starts looking the same after a while. Why don’t you hop in; I’ll take care of you. Got a blanket in the back you can use if you’re cold.

Meredith: Yes, please! 

Travis sighed over my head and caught me by the elbow when I started for the sleigh.

Meredith, keeping her voice low so only Travis can hear: What? 

Travis, voice low: Something’s off.

Meredith: What is it?

Travis: Everything. The trees, not being able to get back to the car, this guy.

Meredith: She did kind of tell us he was out here. But you’re right; it’s weird. I’m so cold, though. I just want to get out of here.

Travis: Me too. Just…stay close.

Porter, calling to them: Everything alright?

Travis, calling back: Yeah, coming.

Porter tipped his hat to us as we climbed into the sleigh behind him. I dove under the blanket, unconcerned about its musty odor, and tucked it around our legs. Travis was stiff beside me, the saw laying across his lap, fingers still keeping it in a loose hold. 

Porter: Name’s Porter, as you know. Who do I have the pleasure of driving this afternoon?

Meredith: I’m Meredith, this is my husband, Travis.

Porter: Nice to meet you. You from around here?

Travis, tersely: No.

The way he said it, so abruptly and final, put an end to Porter’s attempt at hospitality. He just cast an odd little smile over his shoulder before giving the reins a gentle shake, setting the horse into motion. I sank into my seat, relieved for the rescue, and tried to enjoy the novelty of riding in a horse-drawn sleigh, but Travis’ continued unease was contagious and what should have been another traditional Christmas first felt more like a wobbly, county fair ride I was just praying would end.

The ride was quiet save for Porter humming a carol to himself, and I watched the bleak trees pass by, noting idly that the way ahead was cordoned off behind a long stretch of rope. I was about to point it out to Travis, wondering if we’d passed it before, when something tickled my outside thigh. I slapped at it and glared at my husband.

Meredith, low, to Travis: Really?

Travis: What?

Meredith: I felt you trying to get handsy just now, Mister.

He just looked sharply down and I followed his gaze to his lap, where both his hands were sitting atop the blanket.

With a shriek, I threw it back, expecting to find a mouse cuddled up between us. Instead, red, raw tendrils were wrapping themselves around our legs. They sprouted from the bulbous flesh on which we were sitting. The sleigh had transformed beneath us, wood and metal becoming flayed, wet meat wriggling with those grasping, little worm-things. I sprang up with another scream with Travis close behind. 

Porter, his voice rumbling demonically: Take your seat. It won’t be long now.

There was no separation between sleigh, man, or horse. They’d become a single, skinless creature, Porter fused at the waist into the back of the horse, whose hindquarters had melded with the front of the sleigh. It pulled us by its two front legs, pointed teeth clacking, eye sockets empty and black. The tendrils licked at my hand, trying to snag themselves around my wrist, but I yanked away, fear closing my throat to any further screams. Beyond the rope ahead, skeletal figures stood where the trees had been, their long, white faces hollow with voracious hunger. 

I gaped up at Travis, mouth flapping, hands shaking, and he took me by the shoulders. 

He flung me backwards out of the sleigh and leapt after me.

Despite the snow cushioning my fall, the wind was still knocked out of me. I scrambled to my hands and knees with a strangled cry and Travis suddenly had me by my arm, yelling for me to get up. The sleigh skid to a sideways stop, Porter twisting around with a snarl. He bore down on us as we tried to run, seeking shelter between the trees, but he merely crashed through them, splintering the dead branches and toppling dried trunks. 

Travis screamed when the horse’s teeth sank into his shoulder and hurled him off to the side. The saw slipped from his fingers and landed at Porter’s feet.

Porter: No cheer, only fear. You won’t feed us. Not like she will.

He beat his hooves against the ground, trying to trample Travis, but my husband rolled to the side and came up brandishing one of the broken trees. He swung it at Porter, smacking it against the horse’s shoulder, and the monstrous construct reared, the horse head shrieking.

Travis: Run, Meredith!

It was all he had time for before Porter whipped around and slammed into him with the broad side of the flesh-sleigh. He flew backwards and landed on the ground with a muted groan.

Meredith: Travis!

Porter, growling breath: There’s no running, Meredith. We’re. So. Hungry!

I staggered back a step, choking on a sob, head spinning, frozen, confused, horrified. 

What’s happening?

This can’t be real!

What the fuck, what the fuck, whatthefuck!

Travis clutched his chest, teeth bared into the snow, as Porter turned to him again, readying to close the distance.

No.  

All I had wanted was a storybook Christmas. All I had wanted was snow and cocoa and a god damned tree. Travis had tried to give that to me.

Not him.

It was all he’d ever done; give me whatever silly, stupid thing caught my interest. Make me happy. Take care of me.

Not. My. Husband.

And now this fleshy fuck was trying to take that away? Take him away? At CHRISTMAS?

My heart thundered against my ribs. My shallow breaths came hard and fast. And my scream was long and loud and full of Yuletide rage. 

The saw was where Travis had dropped it, lying close to the rear of the monster. I didn’t know how strong it was. I didn’t know if it would cut. I clamored into the sleigh, stomping on the flesh tendrils as they reached for me, and I swung the saw down as hard and fast as I could into Porter, right at the base of his neck.

Porter screamed.

The horse screamed.

I sawed.

While he flailed, twisting and turning, but unable to reach me, I shoved the serrated blade forward and ripped it back, biting into muscle, snapping tendon. His jerking movements only aided in wedging it deeper. Sticky, cold liquid, more like sap than blood, spilled from the jagged seam and splashed across both of us. The tendrils spasmed with every pull, unable to get hold of me. Porter couldn’t buck, the sleigh too heavy and unwieldy, so he attempted to rear again, but I threw myself on his back and drove my full weight into the saw. 

He gasped, clawing at my hand, but he was already drowning. 

A shudder ran through the horse, up into Porter. It swayed on spaghetti legs. 

I shook myself free of his twitching fingers and planted my foot in the middle of his back. The saw’s teeth chewed through his throat one more time before coming free in a spray of sticky red.

I leapt down as Porter teetered in a circle, fingers clasped against the ribbons of his neck, horse head hung low, then toppled into the snow. Beyond the rope, the figures had faded to trees again.

Old Woman, screeching as she approaches: What have you done?!

I jerked around, shock over what I’d seen, what I’d done, setting in over the fast dissipating rage, and the saw fell from my grasp. The old woman was charging toward me, face glowing red with fury and her fingers hooked, like she meant to sink them into me.

Meredith, stammering, near tears, trembling: What…who…

Old Woman, wailing: My boy! What’ve you done? You bit–

Her head snapped back with the force of the broken tree swung beneath her chin and she crumpled to the ground.

Travis threw the wood on to her and turned to me, cradling his side with a wince.

I took a stuttering step toward him, then another, until we managed to fall into one another, and I couldn’t tell if he was shaking or I was or the whole world had started to. I twisted my hands into his jacket and buried my face against his chest.

Meredith: Travis?

Travis: Uh huh?

Meredith: I’m fine staying in Florida for Christmas next year.

Travis: Oh. Good.

Meredith: Yeah…now let’s get the fuck out of here.