Boxing Day

This story has been written in response to L.C. Schäfer's proposal to spend 2024 losing my mind...sorry, I mean, choosing to write a microfiction story every day, making 366 stories for every day of this lovely leap year. You can check her original story out here:

Prompt number five:

5th (Last Day of Christmas) Sentient Christmas tree decorations.

Thanks again to L.C. for the prompt!

***

"I don't want to go in the box! I don't want to go in the box!"

The angel let out its strangled cry which became muffled as it was stuffed unceremoniously inside the box. It may not like it, the snowman thought, but it was inevitable. They all knew what they signed up for and most of them were resigned to their limited role. But every year, Angelus was the same. Actually, as Snowman thought about it, he realised that in Angelus' case it was every two years as their owners liked to alternate the angel and the star and so, perhaps, Angelus had more right to make a fuss than most. Yes, perhaps he shouldn't feel quite so coldly. Although he was a Snowman, he reflected, so coldness was his thing. Or a Christmas ornamental simulation of it at least.

"Can't I stay out just a little bit longer? I've really enjoyed hanging out here this year!"

Another voice protested. The deeper spicy tones of the Gingerbread Man, or Buttons, as he preferred, not liking "Ginge" so much as a shortened moniker, reached Snowman as he was being plucked from his tree limb. Such a joker! He would miss him and his warm stories under the tree lights. He was quite a character although he had suffered this year at the hands of the mini tormentor. They all had.

In fact, that was why Snowman was relieved it was all over really and he could recharge, refresh, reinvigorate ready for the endurance hanging of next year, in some cosy cotton wool and tissue paper.

Only this morning, he had been batted about the face repeatedly, back and forth, swinging with increased speed each time until he feared he'd fall! And he would smash and his powdered snowglobe innards would be dust to broom up with tinsel fragments!

The horror!

What was worse is that he had not received notice of this change in working conditions. It was expected that it would be accepted! But he'd rather the ignominy of the cluttered basket of the charity shop collective to this torture. And potentially, they had years of this!

Why did they have to get a cat?

***

366 words

The mini tormentor itself. Cats are funny in Christmas trees but only in video footage on the internet and certainly not if you are a tree decoration.

This was quite fun to write. Not my best work but fun. After yesterday's rather macabre offering which also featured a cat, I thought that I would show their rather more cute and winsome side, except if you're a bauble.

And that's the streak continuing, which can only be a good thing.

What's next?

For the list of prompts that L.C. has provided for January to get you moving, if you want to partake, go here. It also provides links to everybody else who has joined in the challenge:

Thanks for stopping by. If you've read this story, please do leave a comment as I love to interact with my readers.

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