1204 words, CW Animal/Pet deaths mentioned, not shown on screen
Bree was pretty sure that the Christmas tree wasn't supposed to groan in the middle of the night.
The lights must be fried, she thought. It was the only explanation. After all, she'd gotten the lights fourth-hand, not even secondhand, from the neighbor. Dad had insisted. 'It's not a Morris Christmas without the tree,' he'd always parroted, the same tone and cadence that Grandpa had said it with (or so he said. It wasn't like she could confirm the words of a dead man.) She knew the words were empty, and shouldn't hold weight anymore, with both of them out of her life, but it was one of the handfuls of traditions that were burned into her subconscious, and the guilt that came from not putting a tree up wasn't worth trying to rationalize it. The image of the thriving, bushy tree in the foyer, decked in lights and surrounded with presents...She couldn't give it up.
She turned up her nose as she ran her fingers through the boughs. The tree had been cheap, too. Already brittle when she'd picked it up, Bree had counted herself lucky that the five dollar charity case of a fir hadn't burst into flame when she set it up in her house. The brittleness had faded upon putting it in water, putting some of the off-brand Miracle-Gro in the base too. It had perked up far more than expected though, going from a dingy brown to a healthy green in just a day. She couldn't help but write it off as a case of good karma finally coming around for her. Maybe Grandpa had his eye out on her, looking up from Hell to make sure his grandbaby had a good Christmas. It could be anything perking it up, she reasoned, but lucky plant food was the likely culprit. She hoped it looked good from that angle, even if it wasn't stacked with gifts underneath.
The groaning, though, that had a lot less in the way of explanations. The lights being old was about the only thing Bree could bullshit into a reason. They crackled the first time she turned them on, after all, and one might have even sparked. She wasn't so sure about that latter bit; when the electric snap had occurred, it almost sounded more like teeth snapping? But then again, she wasn't an electrician. It wasn't enough to unsettle her. Wasn't a tree without lights, wasn't a Morris Christmas without the tree. Shaking her head and adding a bittersweet smile, she flicked the branch as she pulled her hand away. Bree almost felt a flick back with how elastic the boughs had become again. Back to the wrapping, if she could even call 'ten dollar gift cards in fancy envelopes' wrapping. Four hours of digging through tape and construction paper fancied up with ribbon curls, and she was something resembling satisfied with her effort, seating the cards throughout the tree. It still didn't look right, and the gentle groan reverberated against the window again. It dawned on her that it was likely just the tree and lights brushing up into the glass. That was at least one thing settled. Shrugging, she turned back to her evening routine, intent to get to bed before she ended up with less than four hours of sleep before her shift again.
Bree awoke to the sound of a bird screeching in the middle of the night, a wet, panicked set of sounds she remembered from her childhood. Grateful that she didn't have a cat anymore, she recognized the sad squeals as a bird being mauled. They'd had enough barn cats for it to become a common occurrence, despite them being there for the mouse problem. It had been an even MORE common sound in the winter, too, added in with the sounds of the lil bastards taking out the intended mice. It sounded close, too, like 'outside the living room window' close. She made a mental note to remind her neighbors to keep their cat inside. It may have been decent weather lately, but the things were a public menace to the wildlife when left unchecked. She remembered plenty of times people had shown up at her dad's door to say the same, reports of pet rabbits, things like that, just outright gone. Especially in the winter. He'd always argued that it was their fault for letting their pets out when there were coyotes in the area, telling them what idiots they were for risking the family pet so close to Christmas. 'Nice guy' like that, Dad. It took Bree a bit to fall back asleep after that, and her dreams swam with uneasy holiday memories of over-tall trees with swaying boughs, and the feel of their touch on her face as she went after her presents.
When her fourth alarm finally roused her, the first thing the woman was aware of was the chill. It was far colder in the house now versus what she'd woken to yesterday, and she pattered out to the living room to see if the heater had clicked off in the night. Wouldn't be the first time the landlord took 'heating her house' as a personal slight. The room was at least lit, and she made her way to the obvious culprit before realizing that no, the heater itself was still chugging away. Set the same temperature as last night, too. Scanning for anything else out of place, Bree saw the window by the tree ajar and she yanked it a little further shut. The windows in this beat-up shack had always been bad in the winter, be they under-insulated or easily pushed open by a strong wind, so, like much of her misfortune, she could easily just chalk this up to bad luck. At least the tree looked good again this year. Even with only having paid $5 for it, she at least had the peace of mind that it would still look like a Morris Christmas in here.
Bree could have sworn the tree looked even greener as she packed up her books for class after the morning shift, bundling in the change of clothes for lab around them. Flicking off the lights left a cheery glow in the room, and an even deeper desire to put presents under the bottom of the damn thing. Thanks, Grandpa, and she rolled her eyes. She'd never even met the man, but Christmas for her family seemed like an event that would be dictated by him forever. She pondered what she could even throw under the tree this year, she only had around three friends even coming over this month, and two were for the group project. Maybe she could wrap something for herself? She'd have to think about it. It seemed a waste to leave it with nothing underneath but the old family tree skirt...especially with it so bright and lively looking now. Is that why Dad always felt so compelled? Bree almost wanted to call him and ask. She paused at the door, now that was a chilling thought, she realized. Shaking it off, she hurried out into the chill of the pre-dawn and tried to put it out of her mind entirely.
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