Short Story: “The Christmas Street”

“I just remembered I hate Christmas,” Michelle said as they walked down the street.

Christmas Street was lined with mansions wrapped in red, green, white and other bright colors. There was a robot Santa Claus that waved at everyone as they passed by. The Grinch perched on one person’s chimney, while angels hovered over another. One large yard had several life sized figures acting out a scene from “A Charlie Brown Christmas.”

Long strings of lights spiraled around the lines of redwood trees along the street.

Most of the decorations were the same every year. But they never failed to draw huge crowds eager to walk down the street oohing and aahing with friends, family and loved ones. They sacrificed hot cocoa, fireplaces and endless Christmas specials on TV to journey into the cold night for an hour of holiday splendor.

Michelle and Chris stopped in front of an elaborate Nativity scene that showed baby Jesus emitting white light that glowed like a halo in the cold night.

“How can you hate Christmas?” Chris said. “There’s lights and candy and presents. Speaking of candy…”

Chris reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a couple of candy canes. He handed one of them to Michelle and opened the other, biting off a piece to enjoy as they strolled. The taste of mint streamed through his nostrils.

Hints of “Jingle Bells” echoed from one of the nearby houses.

Michelle let out a deep breath. The air fogged as it passed her lips. She unwrapped her candy cane. The curved part broke off and immediately fell to the ground.

“It’s all so fake,” she said. “Everyone puts up nice decorations and pretends to care about each other. As soon as New Years rolls around, the ornaments come down. Everything goes back to normal.”

Chris looked at the Nativity scene one last time before they resumed walking. It was starting to snow.

“I think it’s like peering into an alternate reality,” he said. “Every day there’s another mass shooting, another terrorist attack. Then Santa Claus shows up and we imagine a world full of beauty and kindness. It seems like pretend. But we could do this year round if we wanted to.”

They passed more of the beautifully-lit houses. Each one seemed more dazzling than the last. Santa Claus was sitting on a big red throne across the street as children lined up to ask him for video games, bicycles and toys. A little boy wailed and screamed as his mother lifted him onto Santa’s lap. The jolly fat man tried to comfort the child to no avail.

Another couple was holding hands and kissing next to a forest of six-foot candy canes that seemed to illuminate the whole block. Chris tried to put his arm around Michelle but she pulled away.

By now, the red stripes of their candy canes had faded. The sidewalks were beginning to turn white with snow.

“No one can keep up a fantasy forever,” Michelle said. “My parents stopped celebrating Christmas when I was 10. It killed me the first year we didn’t buy a tree. My sister asked if we could still get presents, but my mom said we don’t believe in that stuff anymore.”

“But you still believed,” Chris said.

At last they came to the end of Christmas Street, which led out to a busy intersection. Cars waited for traffic lights to change from red to green before zooming off to wherever they were going.

Chris and Michelle headed toward the crosswalk to get back to their car. The last of their candy canes had dissolved as the glow of the lights dimmed behind them.