Christmas Ficlets: The Second
For yahtzee63, who requested Alias, Sydney, the SpyFam and holly.
Sydney had known for some time that if she crouched in just the right place at the top of the stairs and leaned just the right amount to the right, until her face was nearly pressed flat against the wall, she could see down into the living room where her parents liked to sit at night after she had gone to bed.
Tonight, the view was obstructed by the thick evergreen garland her mother had woven around the dark banister rails and through the white wooden balusters. Sydney reached out to push it aside only to quickly withdraw her fingers and shove them into her mouth, the tips stinging from the sharp points of the holly leaves.
The berries were bright red and perfectly round and held Sydney's gaze as she tried to work through the possible solutions. Her eyelids were heavy -- Mommy and Daddy had allowed her to stay up past her bedtime since it was Christmas Eve. She blinked hard a few times and tried to concentrate, sliding down the wall until her stomach was flat against the beige carpet.
Sydney smiled. This new position solved her problem, though now all she could see was their heads as they sat close together on the couch. She could still hear them, though, the warm caramel cadence of their voices slipping over her as she rested her chin on her fists, which she stacked one atop the other. She became very still and just listened, hoping to hear something about a dollhouse or a new bicycle.
All she heard for a while was boring grown-up talk about Daddy's work and people she didn't know, and then her Mommy's voice dropped and Sydney couldn't hear anything but a low chuckle from her father, the kind of laughter he reserved only for his wife. Sydney pressed her toes into the rug and pushed herself forward, her face between the stair rails as she strained to see.
Pulling back quickly, Sydney clapped a hand over her eyes, her mouth twisting into a grimace. Kissing! They were kissing!
Burying her face in the carpet, Sydney squeezed her eyes closed and giggled quietly. When she finally looked up again, she couldn't see them at all and heard only the radio, which had been playing the entire time but was louder now. A man with a deep voice was singing about snow on Christmas, and Sydney wondered at that as she turned her head to the side and rested her cheek flat against the rug, her hands balled up beneath her chin.
Blinking lights on the tall tree reflected off of the wall and winked at her in time to the music. Her parents' voices returned, floating across the room to her, whispering in her ear like a faraway dream. Her eyes slowly closed, her body enrobed in a warmth so familiar and right that above all desires for a dollhouse and new bicycle, she wished for this feeling never to end.
******
Sydney had known for some time that if she crouched in just the right place at the top of the stairs and leaned just the right amount to the right, until her face was nearly pressed flat against the wall, she could see down into the living room where her parents liked to sit at night after she had gone to bed.
Tonight, the view was obstructed by the thick evergreen garland her mother had woven around the dark banister rails and through the white wooden balusters. Sydney reached out to push it aside only to quickly withdraw her fingers and shove them into her mouth, the tips stinging from the sharp points of the holly leaves.
The berries were bright red and perfectly round and held Sydney's gaze as she tried to work through the possible solutions. Her eyelids were heavy -- Mommy and Daddy had allowed her to stay up past her bedtime since it was Christmas Eve. She blinked hard a few times and tried to concentrate, sliding down the wall until her stomach was flat against the beige carpet.
Sydney smiled. This new position solved her problem, though now all she could see was their heads as they sat close together on the couch. She could still hear them, though, the warm caramel cadence of their voices slipping over her as she rested her chin on her fists, which she stacked one atop the other. She became very still and just listened, hoping to hear something about a dollhouse or a new bicycle.
All she heard for a while was boring grown-up talk about Daddy's work and people she didn't know, and then her Mommy's voice dropped and Sydney couldn't hear anything but a low chuckle from her father, the kind of laughter he reserved only for his wife. Sydney pressed her toes into the rug and pushed herself forward, her face between the stair rails as she strained to see.
Pulling back quickly, Sydney clapped a hand over her eyes, her mouth twisting into a grimace. Kissing! They were kissing!
Burying her face in the carpet, Sydney squeezed her eyes closed and giggled quietly. When she finally looked up again, she couldn't see them at all and heard only the radio, which had been playing the entire time but was louder now. A man with a deep voice was singing about snow on Christmas, and Sydney wondered at that as she turned her head to the side and rested her cheek flat against the rug, her hands balled up beneath her chin.
Blinking lights on the tall tree reflected off of the wall and winked at her in time to the music. Her parents' voices returned, floating across the room to her, whispering in her ear like a faraway dream. Her eyes slowly closed, her body enrobed in a warmth so familiar and right that above all desires for a dollhouse and new bicycle, she wished for this feeling never to end.
******