Short Story: The Christmas Tree

Hopping and swinging, Carl danced with his two favorite people in the world. Around and around, holding on to his brother’s hand with his left and his mother’s hand with his right, Carl’s face was lit up, and red with excitement. The only thing that made the night better was the Christmas tree his father had brought home. It was the first Christmas Carl could remember where he had his own tree, inside his own house.

Carl’s mom had pulled out a dozen white, water stained boxes from under the basement stairs. In the boxes were an assortment of colorful, bright orbs you could see your own misshapen face in. Carl sat down on the couch in front of his tree. He was breathing heavy, sweating, and his heart was pumped, and pulsated in his head.

Carl’s dad looked away. She reached over to his face and pulled it close to hers. They kissed. Carl had not noticed the red, wood and metal sleigh under the Christmas tree. Snickers was lying under the tree, pawing at Carl’s ornament. The music was Silver Bells.

Christmas morning Carl woke. He ran out of his bedroom door and straight to the Christmas tree. His eyes were bright, happy and his face flushed with excitement. He tore into every present under the tree. Some were for Mikey and some for him, he did not care. The Christmas paper on them was shredded as a puppy would tear up a newspaper fresh off a grassy lawn. “Mikey, oh no mine, this one is mine. Mikey come in here.” He never took his eyes from the presents as he called for his brother.

Mike watched his brother from their bedroom door. He was tired from the sleepless night, but Carl’s enthusiasm was got too him. “Carl let me open one.” Carl picked up a small round shape present and handed it to Mikey. Mikey opened the present and it was a bottle of perfume for his mother. “I’ll take it sweetie,” Mikey’s mom said. She had been standing behind both of her children for the last few minutes, just watching. Carl’s father was in the kitchen he made a pot of