, , , , , , , ,

It is the season now. I can officially state now, at this point, it is still not socially acceptable to talk about Christmas, but I have always been an outcast on the social radar, so there is no worry in my book. But, already we are hearing, seeing, and hurting from all of this Christmas stuff going around before Thanksgiving knocked on our door, so I thought I might as well indulge in the season and write a Christmas themed blog post, or something among the lines of that. So, here you go.

The Elf on the Shelf. When you hear that, you think of that $30 plastic doll that supposedly spies on all of the children and ‘reports’ back and comes in a new spot, leaving a hassle for the parents. No, I don’t believe in it at this point. It is not a point of believing. It is just a point of knowing. Still, it is quite a lot of fun to move it in new spots and view the smile always coming down on my brothers face every morning.

Featured image

But, it is not like I always had a disbelief in this. Not at all. Actually, my first time finding out about the elf struck me like a horror movie at midnight. And that is what this story will be centered around tonight.

It started out around December, where we were to sleep over at our Nanny’s house while our parents went out on a little dinner date. I always wondered why we couldn’t come, but just now I realized that having a 5 and 6 year old hanging around all the time would make you want a little time to yourself. I was fine for the time being until I noticed a Swedish doll hanging from a string above the fireplace. Being the inquisitive person I am, I asked my Nanny what that little doll was, I decision I wish I hadn’t made.

She told me it was the elf on the shelf, a little Christmas tradition that had been running on for the past few years. How it worked was that it would take notes on how good you were behaving and would report it to Santa nightly during the Christmas season. She also included the detail in which that the cashier gave her a little cryptic warning while buying it that is horrifies some kids, a little note she could have left out.

I was mortified. I was being violated, spied on, and possibly to be murdered within the span of the night. My brother told a tale of his friend Jack, whose elf went missing for a little while and came back a few days later with a blood stain on his face. That did not help my paranoia one bit, and I was freaking out, begging my parents to bring me with them. It was just too much for me. Everyone was trying to assure me that no bad thing was to happen to my very own self, but their calming attitude backfired and hit me in the face, still freaking out. But then, there was a solution. My Nanny said she would put the elf in the magic container, where no elf could escape. In other words, she put the elf in a dog crate that was supposedly magical, but I believed it, considering it didn’t seem that far from reality in the imagination of a 6 year old.

I slept well, but still had nightmares where I would wake up and everyone else was gone, and the elf couldn’t be seen until I found it under the bed, seeing the last sight of my tender life.

Featured image

I woke up that morning in a manic state, checking myself for knives or blood. I was in the clear. But, there was one detail that was plenty to be worried about. Where was Marshall?

I went down the steps cautiously, speculating on where he might be and coming up with odd theories about what might have happened. Maybe the elf had hired an elf assassin off of the elf black market so he could do the dirty work for him? Once I got down the steps, I examined the room to make sure I couldn’t find a sneaky little elf hiding anywhere. I ran to the kitchen, only to find my Nanny sipping a cup of coffee, and Marshall jumping up and down, screaming and yelling about the elf, which, as I noticed, was gone from the elf magic prison thing. He was in a cereal box! That was when I saw a change of heart, a twist of fate, a punch in the eyes of life and a scratch in the fabric of the universe. I had miscalculated. There was nothing wrong with this elf. It had good magic. Not bad.

Ah, well, that was my little reminiscent tales of the easier times, where corn smelled better and magic like the elf didn’t have to wash away. Oh well. Just because of the singular reason that that silly little inanimate doll doesn’t have the magic doesn’t mean there is none to spare within the season. Magic is what holds the universe together. I don’t care for something above the expectations and boundaries of life when I haven’t even come to reach them yet.