[ic] narrative - christmas in the wallace house
Shilo remembered being five years old and asking her father to find a purple tree for Christmas. 2044 marked the first and last year that she asked for only one gift and - even more suprising - received it. He humoured her for a few Christmases and let her help him put it up, but then it disappeared. When she was fourteen, Shilo even stopped wondering what had happened to it. Or did, anyway, until this year, when she climbed into the attic, bound and determined to find the Christmas lights her father allowed her to string up around her room. Apparently, it had been permanently disassembled (only then did it occur to her that it was aluminum, not real and special and just for her, like her father led her to believe) and shoved in the box it came in.
Well, no longer. Along with the other boxes of lights and ornaments that she'd never even seen before, she dragged it down and placed it in the foyer of the house so that it could be seen from the streets, through the - albeit, barred and often curtained - windows. Finally, she could have a Christmas, just like the ones she'd seen in specials and television programs. Like the ones she remembered as a child, long before her father's need to create an illusion of a normal life disappeared. He might even like it, she told herself, if he could ever stop lecturing her for venturing into the attic on her own. Like she had a choice in the matter.
And then, despite being alone in the house, there were the presents.
* * *
To: GraveRobber
Pinned and mounted in a small shadow box (originally intended for a present for her father, had events transpired differently this past year) is the insect she had to follow out of Marni's crypt and into the cemetary in order to catch - the reason they met, in the first place. It was preserved carefully enough that its fluorescent blue abdomen still glows faintly. Sitting under the box (which is, of course, carefully wrapped) is one of her father's old Leonard Cohen records. Tucked into the ribbons around the album, is a spare key to the house.
To: Julie
An old polaroid camera she pulled out of a storage box in the attic. It still works and there's still a roll of film in it. Included is a picture she accidentally took of herself, thus leading her to that conclusion. Also, a couple of extra throws from the linen closet, just in case.
To: Ryan
A (very) large jar of Skittles, obviously with which to make pancakes.
for Daddy
Instead of the traditional insect-in-a-box, a holographic photo of Nathan and Marni on their wedding day (which she found while digging through storage boxes in the attic) in a terrarium-style frame.
for Mag
Similar to her father's gift, an old, holographic photo of Mag and Marni (looking quite happy) in a bell jar-shaped frame.
Well, no longer. Along with the other boxes of lights and ornaments that she'd never even seen before, she dragged it down and placed it in the foyer of the house so that it could be seen from the streets, through the - albeit, barred and often curtained - windows. Finally, she could have a Christmas, just like the ones she'd seen in specials and television programs. Like the ones she remembered as a child, long before her father's need to create an illusion of a normal life disappeared. He might even like it, she told herself, if he could ever stop lecturing her for venturing into the attic on her own. Like she had a choice in the matter.
And then, despite being alone in the house, there were the presents.
* * *
To: GraveRobber
Pinned and mounted in a small shadow box (originally intended for a present for her father, had events transpired differently this past year) is the insect she had to follow out of Marni's crypt and into the cemetary in order to catch - the reason they met, in the first place. It was preserved carefully enough that its fluorescent blue abdomen still glows faintly. Sitting under the box (which is, of course, carefully wrapped) is one of her father's old Leonard Cohen records. Tucked into the ribbons around the album, is a spare key to the house.
To: Julie
An old polaroid camera she pulled out of a storage box in the attic. It still works and there's still a roll of film in it. Included is a picture she accidentally took of herself, thus leading her to that conclusion. Also, a couple of extra throws from the linen closet, just in case.
To: Ryan
A (very) large jar of Skittles, obviously with which to make pancakes.
for Daddy
Instead of the traditional insect-in-a-box, a holographic photo of Nathan and Marni on their wedding day (which she found while digging through storage boxes in the attic) in a terrarium-style frame.
for Mag
Similar to her father's gift, an old, holographic photo of Mag and Marni (looking quite happy) in a bell jar-shaped frame.
