24/12/2024
๐๐ก๐ ๐๐ก๐ซ๐ข๐ฌ๐ญ๐ฆ๐๐ฌ ๐
๐ซ๐๐๐ญ๐ฎ๐ซ๐
Snow whispered against the windows, a gentle rhythm that shouldโve been comforting. But all I felt was its weight. It was Christmas Eve, and my house was as cold inside as it was out. The tree stood awkwardly in the corner, its ornaments barely clinging to the branches. The lights flickered as if they couldnโt decide whether to keep going or just quit. Dad had stormed out hours ago after another fight with Mom, leaving an uncomfortable silence in his wake. No one dared to break it.
In the corner, my little brother sat cross-legged, fiddling with the broken star that used to top our tree. I watched his small hands try to align the jagged pieces, but I couldnโt bring myself to help. What was the point? Christmas was nothing more than a yearly charadeโa fake smile over a fractured reality.
I sighed, my eyes drifting back to the tree. Its erratic blinking annoyed me. Everything annoyed meโthe strained quiet, the draft sneaking through the window cracks, the sugary smell of Momโs cookies, a hollow attempt to salvage what was left of the evening.
โWhatโs the point?โ I muttered, more to myself than anyone.
And then it happened.
The tree lights flared up, blindingly bright. I threw up a hand to shield my eyes, but it only grew worse. Ornaments rattled violently before shooting off the branches, shattering against the floor. The room twistedโwalls bending, the ceiling stretchingโlike reality itself was coming apart. The snow outside turned black, and the hum of electricity roared in my ears.
I stumbled back, my heart pounding. From the tree erupted a kaleidoscope of colors, spinning and folding into themselves until they formed a single, radiant point of light. The world around me collapsed into silence, leaving only that lightโand then, nothing.
Until I heard a voice. Deep and resonant, it cut through the void.
โWelcome to the first fragment, Ellie. You ruined Christmas. Now you must fix it. There are three fragments aheadโcollect them before your time runs out.โ
When I opened my eyes, I wasnโt home anymore. I was in a snowy village, silent and still. Every movement here felt deliberate, emotions expressed through graceful gestures rather than words. The snow sparkled in shades of violet and gold, and the starry sky stretched endlessly above. Through a frosted window, I saw Momโpeaceful, serene in the quiet of this world.
But as beautiful as it all was, I felt restless. Frustrated. Wandering through the silent streets, I noticed a small girl crouched in the snow, drawing a star with her finger. She looked up, then took my hand and led me to an abandoned church on the edge of the village. Inside, a glowing fragment of the Christmas Star rested on an altar, encased in a barrier of silence.
The silence pressed on me, heavy and overwhelming, but I realized it wasnโt empty. It was fullโof reflection, of hope buried beneath struggle.
Inspired, I wrote a message of hope on a scrap of parchment and laid it on the altar. The barrier shimmered, and faint whispers of gratitude broke through the quiet. The fragment pulsed with light, and the world around me blurred as I moved on.
I found myself in a bustling industrial city, where Christmas ran on gears and steam. Machinery buzzed, and people rushed about with clockwork trinkets and mechanical wreaths. The cityโs giant Christmas clock, powered by a fragment of the Christmas Star, was malfunctioning, throwing everything into chaos.
Thatโs when I saw himโmy brother. Only here, he was an eccentric inventor. He explained the fragment had dimmed over time, weakening the clock. Together, we worked to repair it. But I noticed something else: the people were distant, efficient but disconnected.
So, I gathered them in the city square, urging them to share their Christmas memories. Slowly, warmth spread through the crowd, melting the rigid cold that gripped the city. The clock began to hum with life, its light growing warmer until the fragment emerged, glowing brightly.
And then, I was somewhere else.
This world was bleak, gray, and hollow. No decorations, no laughterโjust people moving through lifeless routines. I found my family, but they didnโt recognize me. In the town square stood a forgotten tree, its branches bare and brittle. Beneath its roots, I saw the faint glow of the last fragment.
Determined, I started singing a carol. My voice shook, but I kept going. Slowly, others joined in, their voices timid at first but growing stronger with each verse. We decorated the tree with whatever scraps we could find. Laughter filled the air, and the fragment shone brightly as the tree came to life.
I held the last piece close, and the world around me faded.
When I opened my eyes, I was back in my living room. The tree stood tall, its lights steady and warm. My brother slept beside it, the star now whole and glowing softly in his hands. On the couch, Mom and Dad sat together, their hands intertwined. For the first time in years, their expressions seemed... softer.
I clutched the fragments, feeling the weight of what they representedโhope, love, and joy. A tear slid down my cheek, but this time, it wasnโt from frustration. It was something else. Something warm. Something like joy.
โIt was never about the pieces. It was about them. It was about my family.โ
โWords | Princess Lorraine Bartolome
๐ธPhotos | Ar-arif Saluan
๐ผLayout | Alely Bitun
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