Gift or Wreath
In the future, a new Christmas tradition is anything but fun to the kids taking part in it.
The following story was originally written when I was 22 for a Writing and Publishing class and includes some edits and expansions to the story that I recently added.
Hollow Hills was facing its coldest winter in fifteen years, with the weather reporter accurately predicating that the week of Christmas would be the most brutal week of all.
The day before Christmas Eve, there had been a dreadful snowfall that forced everyone to remain at home. By the storm’s end at three o’clock, deep blankets of snow covered every inch of the ground, from the front lawns of the suburban houses to the driveways which workers were required to cross nearly every day. Although there wasn’t a snowfall the next day, the temperature still reached a high of only ten degrees, while every street concerned remained filled with either snow or ice.
And if these conditions were difficult for workers, who would have to stop their cars every couple of seconds to avoid colliding into blurry vehicles or walk through heavy snow when entering buildings, then it would be twice as hard for children between the ages of five and sixteen, who were all required to participate in the annual Gift or Wreath event during the night of Christmas Eve, where they would go door-to-door within large groups in their neighborhoods and ask the adults at home to be given either a gift or a wreath.
Started shortly after the global economic collapse nearly forty years before, which caused the rationalization of many necessities and forced many stores that sold toys and other goods considered to be “luxury items” to shut down, gift or wreathing was based on the old Halloween tradition of trick or treating, where children would get free candy from nearby homes during the night. For gift or wreathing, adults would order toys, books, electronic devices, and other goods which were enjoyed by children out of a catalog organized by the National Consumer Association. It would be given out at the end of October, and adults would order as much as they could, depending on their economic situation.
If they couldn’t afford to order gifts, they would be required to order wreaths, which only cost around $5.00 and were ordered simply so that the children who approached their homes wouldn’t leave empty handed.
Children never reacted well to receiving wreaths, but over time, they’d gotten frustrated with the tradition in general. Not only did it require them to go out in the cold and risk catching one of the many diseases their parents and teachers fretted so much over, but it also forced them to interact with children they might not like and to be polite to neighbors they might despise.
While many of them were displeased about having to go outdoors during a time like this, there was perhaps no child more upset about these circumstances than ten-year-old Eva Alvarez, a child with a reputation for being demanding and mean, shouting out orders to any kid in her class whom she needed something from and hurling insults at them if they displeased her in any way. The promise of a new Mindy Locket doll or a train set had lost all meaning to her after she caught a bad fever while part in gift or wreathing when she was eight, making her much more cruel than usual when this dreaded day arrived. And under this year’s conditions, she didn’t see any advantages in participating in Gift or Wreathing at all.
…
At around six in the evening, Eva Alvarez sulked as she prepared to step outside. Dressed in both a sweater and heavy blue coat, black hat, scarf, and mittens, and brown old boots, she felt awfully stuffy while indoors, so much so that the thought of being whipped by the horribly cold air was desirable for a moment.
“Eva, remember to stick close to your friends at all times!” Mrs. Alvarez shouted out from the kitchen. As the only child in the family, Eva’s parents seemed to believe this required reminding your child of every possible danger out there and every single rule they had to follow whenever they had the chance.
“I will, Mom,” Eva responded, not bothering to tell her mother that the kids who’d be going Gift or Wreathing with her weren’t her friends, just neighbors whose parents wanted to them to stick with other kids who lived nearby.
“And don’t forget to call me through your ear chip once an hour has gone by!” she went on, referring to the device now used for making calls.
“Okay, okay. No need to remind me of every little thing,” Eva muttered before slamming the door shut, relieved to get away from that constant nagging.
However, this sense of relief faded away the minute she saw the five neighborhood kids who’d be joining her waiting around her doorstep.
The oldest of them was Emily Morris, a tall, lanky girl with pixie blonde hair who was considered the most beautiful girl in Eva’s class. All Eva could think about when looking at her, however, was how foolish the girl was to be wearing a pink skirt when they were going to be walking outside on such a cold night. Although she also wore a pair of knee socks, Emily’s legs were trembling as she waved at Eva, and it took all the strength within Eva to not shout out, “I hope your legs freeze once we make it to Oak Avenue, Emily!”
The youngest was Wendy Parks, who was only five and holding tightly onto the gloved hand of her older brother, Eric. She kept twitching her fingers nervously around the fabric of her cream-colored coat, a habit which annoyed Eva. And to make matters worse, her nose was bright red and wet from mucus, making her look even more awkward.
But Eva knew she couldn’t waste her time being disgusted by her, and so she eyed them all with as much firmness as a teacher and said, “So, you all know what to expect from this, right?”
“Yeah,” Jim Schwartz, who was a year younger than Eva and one of the best students in his class, responded. “We’re about to participate in Gift or Wreathing, a Christmas custom originating from the old Halloween activity called…”
“I didn’t ask for a stupid report, Jim! We’re not in school, in case you didn’t notice,” Eva complained with a scowl.
With an intense look of fear in his eyes, Jim didn’t utter another word, nodding slowly in Eva’s direction. This remark alone was enough to make all the kids realize that Eva wasn’t going to be any easier on them than she usually was in school, and that they better listen to her or else face her wrath.
“So, if no one has anything else to say, just remember that you all have to stay close to me at all times. Otherwise, you’ll probably get lost and find yourselves sinking into the piles of snow, freezing to death if you’re not big enough to crawl out of it,” Eva warned, appearing much more eerie to the others now. Then, changing the subject, she said, “So, who’s brought in the little treat for the grownups who give us wreaths?”
“I thought those were supposed to be tricks,” Wendy said.
“Shut up, Wendy. She’s not being serious about the treats part,” Eric said, stepping up to reveal that he was the one who’d done the work. “See this small box I’ve got here?” he asked, pulling it out of his duffel bag. “Well, my cousin Jeff found this hidden up in my uncle’s old workshop. He claims what’s inside hasn’t been made since the crash, and that it causes something rather unpleasant to whoever touches it.”
“Could I…?” Eva started.
“No, Eva! Only the person who gets the thing should attempt holding it. Otherwise, you’re not going to like what happens to you if you do touch it,” Eric warned, pulling the box away from her reach. “And besides, you wanted to keep it a surprise for the moment we come across the wreath givers.”
Eva sighed. “Okay, you win for once. Now, let’s get going before they give away all the good stuff.”
And like a loyal wolf pack, all the children followed her through the snowy sidewalk.
…
“Gift or wreath!” the children shouted in unison upon reaching the first house, which was the home of the Hughes family.
Emma Hughes, who answered the door, was thirty years old and still quite pretty for a grownup, with short red hair, green eyes with long lashes, and a smile that never failed to light up her whole face.
“Hello there, kids!” she told the children. “Lewis and I put a lot of thought into what we’d be giving you for this special day. Even little Sophia couldn’t help but point out all her favorite toy pictures from the catalog.” Then, calling out to her husband, she said, “Lewis! Bring out all the gifts; the gift or wreathers are here!”
Lewis Hughes, a tall, muscular man who was as joyous as his wife, came in with a large red bag. This was always the sort of bag in which the gifts were delivered in, being meant to resemble the big red coat which Santa Claus, the old Christmas icon once associated with giving out presents, was always said to be wearing.
“Here you go,” Mr. Lewis said cheerfully as he gave each of the children a square-shaped box, which was either blue for the boys or red for the girls. “We were able to order all these toys for just $25.00, thanks to the new government discount made for anyone with a child under the age of five. And if all goes well for us next year, with Emma hopefully bringing us another kid and the president deciding to remain generous, we might have some more good stuff for you next Christmas.”
Mr. Lewis, Eva noticed, always seemed to hope for the best, even though he was only about as lucky as the average person. Yes, he had a decent paying job, a wife who was both pretty and capable of bringing home extra cash by selling homemade cosmetics online, and dozens of friends around town. However, he still had to deal with unexpected salary cuts, and was just as dependent on public handouts for things like furniture and clothing as everyone else in town. This was the reality for everyone with the current slow economy.
But of course, as everyone always said, a little optimism during tough times never hurt anyone, and the Hughes family did their best to show this as often as possible. As weird as this seemed to Eva, she understood why this was preferable to sulking around in depression every time someone read the morning papers, as her parents often did.
“Thank you, Mr. Hughes,” the children said together with bright smiles on their faces. Only Eva remained serious as she said goodbye.
…
“Gift or wreath!”
They were now standing outside of a pink two- story house built during the early 21st century, the home of Alexandra Johnson, who was a dress designer and one of the wealthiest women in town.
“Hi there, kids,” she said when she answered the door. She had her blonde hair tied up into a neat bun and wore a pink sleeveless dress, not seeming to care much about the cold.
The kids, on the other hand, had cared a lot about it. Wendy had started sneezing as they walked over to this next house, while Eric nearly tripped when he stepped into a small chunk of ice. To make matters worse, they’d had to stop walking for a while so that Jim could respond to a call from his dad through his ear chip, forcing them to put up with the cold a lot longer.
But despite all this, Emily, who’d just minutes ago had been complaining about her legs were starting to freeze, looked up at the elegant woman with a smile. Her mother, who organized online clothing sales, always spoke about Alexandra with so much admiration that Emily was almost convinced she was one of the grandest women in the world.
“My mom loves everything you do!” she called out before any of the other kids could stop her.
Alexandra chuckled. “Well, you tell your mom that her admiration is very much appreciate. In fact, I’d say that nearly every woman in this town feels the same way about me. Not that I really deserve all that praise; I’m nothing special. I just happen to make dresses than many women love.”
“And you just want to make it during tough times, just like everyone else,” Eva said, stating this more as a fact rather than because she wanted to praise Alexandra.
“You’re very much right, my dear,” she responded. “Now, enough about me. I’ve got to give you kids your gifts. Don’t think for a minute that I’d give you wreaths.”
“Of course she wouldn’t,” Eric whispered to the kids as Alexandra walked over to her living room. She returned just a minute later with a red bag full of toys.”
“For the girls, I got you all Madeline Bailey dolls,” she said, referring to some of the most expensive dolls sold in the catalogs. The dolls were large and came dressed in pink or purple long-sleeved shirts and matching skirts or pants and black laceless shoes. Many girls wished they could have these dolls, but they rarely got them unless their parents were wealthy or a well-off neighbor gave them away during Gift or Wreathing, as was the case now.
“Wow! We got Madeline Bailey dolls!” Wendy called out happily.
“Thank you, Ms. Johnson,” Emily said.
“You’re very welcome. And now for the boys, you’ll be getting Rick Bunion dolls.” Rick Bunion dolls were popular cowboy dolls that were just as expensive as Madeline Bailey’s, and the two dolls were often sold side by side in the catalogs.
“Neat!” Eric said as Alexandra gave the large cowboy doll. “Wait till the kids in school hear about our gifts.”
“I’m sure the other kids will be getting stuff that’s just as neat,” Eva said, who was usually indifferent towards dolls.
“Come on, Eva. Why do you always want to spoil things for everyone?” Jim said.
“How is it spoiling things when that’s the exact situation every single year?” Eva demanded.
“Now there, kids. Gift or Wreathing is a time for friendship, not fighting,” Alexandria said. “Now, how about I give you all some hot chocolate so that you’ll feel a little less cold when walking outside?”
“That would be highly appreciated,” Jim responded.
Alexandra went to the kitchen, returning with a tray of six plastic cups just minutes later. Most rich people had servants to do such tasks, but since Alexandra had come from a lower- class background, she still preferred doing such work on her own rather than making others do it.
Despite how she told the kids to take their time drinking the hot chocolate, they were all done with it within five minutes, after which they instantly wished for more.
“I’m afraid I can’t give you more. It’s not good to be giving children so much sugar. What you had should be enough for both a sweet treat and to stay a little warm.”
“Okay,” Emily said with a grateful nod.
“All right. I wish you all good luck for the rest of your gift or wreathing.”
The children all said goodbye to her very kindly. Even Eva went along with it, although she still wondered whether Alexandra was always this cheerful, or if she was usually this way only with gift or wreathers. She lived in this large house all by herself, without even servants to do things for her. Her parents had once said that she was rarely in contact with her family because they hadn’t been very good to her when she was growing up, resulting in her having trust issues despite all the wealth she now had. But with rich people, you could never know for sure. Some really did have struggles, while others just went through everything easily enough and only acted as if things were still difficult just to make themselves seem more humble than they actually were. Eva didn’t really care too much.
..
Now, they came across one of the smallest houses in the neighborhood, which was occupied by the Watsons, a middle-aged couple who seemed pitiful to nearly everyone in town. Although they’d been married for fifteen years, they’d never been able to have a child because of a health problem Bridget Watson had. They also typically wore the same clothes every day, with Fred Watson always wearing dusty brown overalls whether he was doing his work as a mechanic in the local auto repair shop or running errands downtown, and Bridget trudging around in a blue long-sleeved blouse and long grey skirt the few times she left her house. As a result, they always provoked awkward stares and whispers behind their backs.
But to the children, this mainly brought about questions of what their gifts would be, if they managed to get any at all. Despite having drunk the hot chocolate at Alexandra’s, Wendy had a coughing and sneezing fit as they were walking through more of the heavy snow, and when they reached the Watsons, she kept asking if she could go back home.
“No, Wendy. We have to stop here, then at three more houses so we can complete the requirements of Gift or Wreathing,” Eric said.
“But I’m sick, and the Watsons don’t even…”
“Enough!” Eva yelled. She wanted to go home as much as Wendy did, but hearing her complain about all it only made her already bad mood much worse. “You’re not doing us any favors by whining like a baby. Just wipe your nose with some tissues and shut up!”
Wendy frowned, yet she still dabbed at her nose with a small tissue and said no more.
Eva rang the doorbell, and the kids all called out “Gift or wreath!”.
They were greeted by Fred Watson, who gave them a nervous smile as well as a quick scan. “Six kids. That’s got to be the smallest group we’ve seen today,” he said in a low voice.
“Really? How many do you usually see?” Emily asked, even as Eva glared at her in disapproval.
“We got a group of eleven earlier. All under the age of nine and afraid of the dark. Couldn’t help wondering what their parents were thinking in letting a large pack like that out without someone older and wiser to keep an eye on them.”
Eva sighed. “We don’t want to hear your long stories, sir. Just give us our gifts.” She was tired of all the forced politeness of the adults they’d been seeing.
“But your friend here asked me something,” Fred insisted. “So, I thought I’d tell her a little about it if only to keep you all from…”
“Enough! Bring out the gifts already!”
“If you insist,” Fred said, sounding as if he was used to this sort of rudeness. He then walked over to the kitchen to speak with Bridget. According to their parent’s rumors, Bridget Watson rarely left the house, having suffered from a serious depression ever since her family lost everything during the economic collapse when she was in her twenties. There were plenty of women like her back then, but now it was mainly those who never quite got over what happened and could not stand how bleak and slow life had been ever since.
And there was Bridget Watson now, with a pale face and brown hair that was fading to grey, carrying a large brown sack. Without a word, she started opening it rather slowly, as if she was in the middle of some complicated task. Then, with just as much slowness, she pulled something out, and the children kept their eyes glued in her direction to see what was inside.
And to their shock, it was the dreaded wreaths, all as big as their heads and as plain as a dying plant. Once hung over doors during the Christmas season as a decoration, they now served as humiliation for the poor adults who had to give them out due to their lack of money and disappointment to the children who received them. And so big was the humiliation for Bridget that she kept looking at the floor as she gave each wreath out one by one, doing her best to avoid the frowns from the children.
Of all the people to feel the tension, it was Emily who turned to Eva with a grim look on her face and asked, “Can we just leave, Eva? It looks like this is too much for Mrs. Watson.”
“No, Emily,” Eva answered in a whisper. “Whatever they give us, we have to take it. And if they give us junk, they’ve got to get the proper payback.” And with that said, she turned to Eric, who nodded with a smirk.
“Eva, no! She seems miserable enough already,” Emily protested.
“Go ahead with it, Eric,” Eva said sternly. She had to let out all her frustrations over gift or wreathing in some way and getting back at the wreath givers felt like the best way to do it.
“Eric, please,” Emily begged, but Eric still went eagerly up to Bridget with a smile and said, “Mrs. Watson, we want to give you something for all your trouble.”
He then took out a gold ring from his bag and handed it over to Bridget, who kept it pressed against her calloused hands for a while.
“Thank you, my boy. I’ve never had something this nice before,” she said in a gentle voice. She seemed grateful, as if this was a small glimmer of sunshine in the darkest of days. To think that just one of these strangers was considering her happiness, after years of being ignored and looked down upon with pity, seemed so…
But the moment she placed the ring around her finger, a flash of electricity flashed from it, and she started convulsing, with her teeth shattering, her hair suddenly sticking out, and all color fading from her body. With only one startled scream as a reaction, she tumbled onto the floor, continuing to tremble as shrieks from the children and cries of concern from her husband could be heard from all around.
“Let’s go!” Eva yelled before Fred could say anything to do the kids.
“No. We should help her!” Emily insisted, not wanting to leave the woman behind like this.
“No! We’ll only get in trouble! Let’s go now!”
The other children started running alongside Eva, and Eric had to yank Emily by the arm to get her to leave with them.
They left Fred kneeling on the floor beside Bridget, who was now completely still, clasping his hands in her chest and doing all he could to try getting her breathing again. Those shock rings didn’t normally kill people, but given how delicate Bridget was, he had every reason to believe it probably had a more serious impact on her.
Yet for some reason, he wasn’t too angry at the kids. He understood this whole Christmas Eve ritual was just as difficult for them as it was for the adults giving things away, especially those like him who had little to give. He’d noticed how sick one of the girls looked, and how upset another of them had gotten from seeing what happened to Bridget. Why should he punish them for what they probably thought was a harmless prank? The police were known for being quite harsh towards young offenders, so he wouldn’t the kids to have to face them. Perhaps the guilt they’d feel over what they’d done would be enough to teach them a lesson.
But still, he wished he’d been the one given the ring instead of Bridget.
A fun read. I really liked the place’s name, Hollow Hills.