Jingle Hell Contest First Place Winner
Congrats go to Wally Cwik, who took first place in our Jingle Hell contest on 15 December. Below is his winning story, The Christmas Tree
The Christmas Tree
by Wally Cwik
The fifteen foot white pine, a silver star at its tip, stood untouched amidst the total destruction of the building — ceiling blown away, walls toppled outward like the petals of a macabre flower. Smells of smoldering wood mixed with a pine scent rose with wisps of smoke from the debris.
Firemen of the seventy-second battalion poked at the wreckage with their axes. The chief removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his face. “That tree is coming home with me. If it can survive such destruction, it’ll survive my four kids.”
#
Ten years ago a pine cone dropped on a loose mound of soil. The seed took root. Tendrils reached deep into the earth, downward toward the decaying corpse of a man — a murderer. Gnarled stems wrapped around the body soaking up its nutrients along with its soul.
#
The bluish-green of the white pine glowed in the hard light of the December afternoon sun. Connie raced up the small knoll, the crackle of dried leaves marked each footfall.
“C’mon, Andy. This is the one.”
Before he trudged up the hill, Andy inhaled the piney fragrance and exhaled a pleasurable ahhh. “It’s about time. We’ve been walking for three hours. Hope we’re not lost.”
“Quit your griping. Don’t you think this is the most perfect Christmas tree you ever laid eyes on?”
“If you say so.”
“You old stick-in-the-mud,” she said and pulled him down to the ground. They rolled in the carpet of leaves that clung to their knit sweaters like Velcro.
Andy cradled Connie at his side, her reddish-brown hair fanned out across his chest.
“I wish this day would never end.”
He squeezed her. “Me too. But. If we don’t get this tree cut down, we may be here forever.” He skootched under the over-hanging limb and started to saw the trunk close to the ground level.
“It’s weird how the oak and maple trees around this pine have been knocked down. Must’ve been lightning.” She playfully tugged at his leg.
“What‘d you say?”
“Never mind. Wasn’t important.”
“Here she comes,” he yelled as the ten foot tree fell to the ground.
They wrapped brown twine around the tree to protect its branches and started the trek home.
#
Canopied by the surrounding maples and oaks, the pine grew slowly in the first five years. At a height of three feet it was a pigmy surrounded by deciduous giants.
During a thunder storm, the pine realized its potential. The branches discharged energy from needle to needle like the nerve impulses shooting the synapses of a brain. A streak of lightning shot at a near-by tree. With a crack..crack, crack, crack the neighboring maples and oaks crumpled in a heap. When the smoke cleared, the symmetrical beauty of the solitary pine stood aglow against the night sky.
#
Andy dragged the tree across the slate tiled patio while Connie slid open the glass doors. In the family room, opposite the red brick fireplace, Andy attached a stand to the tree trunk.
“Alright, you push from one side while I pull from the other.”
The pine rose erect, teetered back and forth, coming to rest with its tip four feet over Andy’s head. He cut the twine, and the branches sprung outward forming a perfect cone.
“Owww,” screeched Andy. “I swear that branch struck out at me.”
“You poor baby,” she said leading him to the bathroom, while the pine greedily absorbed the blood beaded on its needles.
Later in the evening, ornament boxes lay strewn around the room. Connie hummed Hark the Herald Angels Sing along with the carol filling the room from the stereo speakers.
“Andy, move that red ball more to the right. You did a great job stringing the lights. Now the crowning touch.”
From the stepstool she reached to the top of the tree to position the silver star. As she stretched to adjust it, the top branch raked the back of her arm. “I’m as clumsy as you. Help me put a bandage on this arm. It hurts like hell.”
“Don’t be such a baby,” he mocked. The white pine digested the droplets of blood.
#
At five years the dwarf white pine snared its first squirrel in its trap-like branches. Pine needles pierced the rodent’s body. Blood trickled along the needles that ingested the sticky fluid. The tree branch bowed and discarded the drained carcass.
Over the years unwary birds, rabbits and raccoons fell prey to the tenaciousness of the white pine. With each casualty the pine grew stronger.
#
Connie and Andy heard a pop…pop, pop, pop echoing through the family room. They hurried back from the bathroom to see Christmas ornaments and lights explode in a machine gun staccato.
“What the hell is happening?”
“Unplug the tree lights, Andy?”
“They’re not plugged in.”
The couple inched toward the tree through shards of ornaments that littered the floor like the dried leaves of the forest.
Andy reached out and touched the tree limb. A spark of static electricity surged from the needles to his finger. He jerked back his hand, putting his finger in his mouth.
“What was that?”
“Don’t know. The tree must be grounded to an electrical outlet.”
“But it’s not near a wall or anything. Be careful.”
“Not to worry.”
Andy’s feet tangled in the unplugged light cord. He tripped and fell head first into the center of the branches. Pine needles punctured his face and arms; zapping static combined with shouts of pain; blood oozed from pin-prick wounds; steam rose from the vaporizing crimson drops.
Connie, at first paralyzed by the flailing body and metallic stench of burning blood, raced to him. She tried to grab his swinging feet, but could not get hold of his legs. His arm struck her nose dousing the evergreen with more blood.
She stumbled. Her legs entwined with Andy’s, and she crashed into the lethal branches. Her arms and face stung from the stabbing needles.
The two bodies thrashed in a demonic dance as the tree drained their life fluids. The wild gyrations eased to a stop, and the lifeless corpses catapulted to the far side of the room.
#
The star-topped tip of the white pine pushed at the ceiling. A green phosphorescent glow pulsated from every needle with an ever-growing intensity until the room exploded, and its freedom won again.
