A Hacked-Up Holiday Massacre: Halloween Is Going to Be Jealous

SUNSHINE BEAMED

by Marie Green

Sunshine could make peanut shapes under her slippers. Two feet placed close together in the shallow dusting of morning snow and a quick hop away made peanuts, side by side, in neat pairs of slipper prints. Soon the driveway was covered, resembling a shell-littered steakhouse floor. Puffs of warm, steamy breath billowed above in the frigid morning air, the small clouds dissipating against the festively-lit facade of the neighbor’s house across the dirt road. Delicate, multicolored bulbs shone against tufts of perfectly fallen, glistening snow. Slipper clad footfalls added a cold crunch to the still morning as she stepped across the road, closer to the warm vision the neighbor’s yard offered. A beautifully decorated Spruce was just within reach across the pickets. She breathed deep, stealing the strong, wintery scent of snow-coated pine. One hand rose to touch it, fingers grazing the scarlet tinsel and sharp needles. A dreamy, envious sigh became frost in the chill, dying hopelessly.

Santa Claus comes to houses like this.

Crows and magpies squawked piercing threats at one another up the road to the right, startling away the daydream. Someone had run over a deer last night and a bunch of scavenging birds fought for their share of the bloodied carcass. There was a big mess on the side of the road. A portion of the birds parted from the kill as she approached, shrieking as they dove at other birds in the air, giving a glimpse of the mutilation. Shades of brilliant red contrasted against the fresh snow and black and white birds. That’s a no no, thoughts chided. Shouldn’t be so close.

A racking shiver jolted her away from the fascination of watching the birds fight. Sunshine wiped her wet nose on the matted fabric of her pajama gown and resigned to walking back up the driveway to her own house. As she passed through the gap in the fence that was once a gate, her foot glanced off a can. A short clatter ensued as it smashed against a snow-covered pile of empties. Blue aluminum peeked through the snow like ornamental bulbs.

A cough sounded inside the house, stilling Sunshine in her peanut tracks.

No one will be happy if I ain’t inside while they sleep. No one needs to spend their time watching to be sure I don’t wander off and get lost.

As expected, no one came outside to see what she was doing. She continued toward the front door but just as her hand touched the icy knob, the urge struck one last time to see the pretty Christmas tree across the road. A lip quivered atop a trembling chill-pink chin.

As she turned to the darkened windows of the house to which she was consigned, her gaze came to rest on the thin branches of the sole, sickly pine in the yard. Picking up a can showed how much the can’s weight also resembled a Christmas bulb, and she carefully threaded a few of the tree’s needles through the aluminum tab to hold it in place.

I can do it! Just need more.…

Ignoring the sting of cold fingers, she worked diligently, gathering more frosty cans from the yard to decorate the pine. Remembering the red tinsel from the neighbor’s tree, she scanned the yard for something similar to use, but aside from a length of torn, yellow tape that read CAUTION, nothing resembled tinsel.

“Ohhhhh,” she moaned low.

Birds squawked on the roadside.

A crow pulled something long, shiny, and red from beneath the bloodied fur. After looking back at the darkened window for reassurance that no one would witness, Sunshine ran from the yard to scare the birds away. She smiled as she looked at the piled length of ropey flesh. The pungent smell of coppery, warm blood hung in a thick halo around the deer.

Fast, fast… Her hand traced the end to some place under the deer’s hind legs and gave it a pull. Brown fluid squished between her fingers. Nausea roiled deep in her gut.

Tummy ache. Sunshine looked away. A hard shake of her hands cleared them of the mess, flinging dark streaks into the snow, splattering the worn flannel sleep shirt with brown stripes of stinking matter. There, she thought, relieved. She choked up her shaking grip and tried again, causing the carcass to slide to rest on top of her slipper.

A squeal erupted from her chest. “Bad…bad deer,” she wailed. She jerked her foot from beneath the weight and had to go to her knees to retrieve her slipper, quickly, not missing more than a beat in her quest.

She placed her feet on either side of the carcass and repositioned her hands on the sinewy cord. Leaning back, she grunted loud. She gasped as her hands slicked up the bloodied tube, sending her sprawling backward, landing on her bottom in the streaked and splattered snow.

“Owwwwwie,” she cried.

She pushed back to her feet and wiped her hands on her nightgown. She studied the firmly anchored treasure and knew she would need the scissors out of the what’s-it drawer in the kitchen to cut it loose.

When she was little it was against the rules to take the scissors because they were sharp, but that had been a long time ago. She’d outgrown Aunt Sal at seventeen, and was almost as tall as Cousin Benny; although she knew she was done growing now. Aunt Sal said that she was taller than Momma had been but Sunshine didn’t remember what Momma looked like. Cousin Benny said Momma was really pretty, just like Sunshine.

Sunshine walked as quiet as she could past the couch where Cousin Benny sprawled, mouth open in an alcohol-induced slumber. A sour smell hung in the chilly air inside the house, and Sunshine couldn’t help inhaling through her nose as she quietly tiptoed her way across the room. Her foot hit a can and it cracked its way across the small living room, ricocheting off a pile of discarded pizza boxes and two-liter Mountain Dew bottles, sending two of them toppling loudly onto the dilapidated, mud-streaked, hard wood floor. Oh no, no, no. Sunshine held her breath.

Benny snorted in his sleep, and caught a bit of escaping saliva with his tongue before it slid from the corner of his mouth and onto the stained couch cushion. His tattered blanket slid onto the floor, exposing an erection. Sunshine’s eyes darted away as memories invaded her mind. Her sticky hands clawed fistfuls of flannel.

“It’s okay, Sunny,” he’d breathed against her ear, “We’re grown-ups now…”

She didn’t like to look at Cousin Benny anymore. He had told her it would be fun, that she would like it. His hands made her feel good. He hadn’t told her that it would make her feel creepy and as if she was misbehaving every time she saw him. Or that it would hurt.

Movement brought her back to the present as he rolled onto his side, still asleep.

Sunshine continued on to the kitchen and got the scissors. Her nose was so cold that it itched with runny mucus. She scrubbed it with a numb hand then wiped it on a dishtowel. Aunt Sal would tell her again that women who thought like little girls, like Sunshine did, couldn’t go outside alone. Couldn’t use the scissors alone. Couldn’t go to school alone, or go for a walk alone. Aunt Sal would be angry when she saw Sunshine had gone outside by herself but the reward far outweighed the cost.

We’re gonna have a real Christmas tree this year. Maybe Santa will come to our house. Then Aunt Sal won’t be mad anymore.

She slipped quietly outside.

Soon, Sunshine had clipped free her prize and trotted back toward the front yard.

Quick like a bunny…quick like a bunny, she thought, matching time to the beat of her slippers in the snow. As she ran past the neighbors’ tree, she smiled when she saw the curtain close across their front window. An excited, screeching giggle escaped her. The neighbors must be jealous that she, too, had a beautiful Christmas tree.

She carefully adorned the tree, taking time to arrange the hardening ropes in precise scallops from the long branches at the small tree’s base clear to the top. She stood back, wiping her soiled hands on the front of her nightgown.

Snow fell again and large, fluffy wet flakes came to rest on the blue aluminum. All she needed to complete the tree was an angel for the top. A scan of the yard and roadside offered nothing. Even walking and toeing snow-covered heaps was fruitless.

Maybe there’s an angel inside.

Wandering from room to room, she searched diligently as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, careful not to wake anyone else until the tree was done.

Oh boy! The Baby Alive she’d begged for last time Aunt Sal had taken her along to Goodwill peeked from under yellowed sheets on her bed. She’d found the perfect tree topper. Eager, she grabbed the doll.

Silent as a mouse. She slipped past Benny and back out the front door.

Baby Alive sat crooked atop the tree, slid past a scalloped, sticky tree branch and fell into the snow. Sunshine picked the doll up and wiped the dark red streaks from the doll’s rubbery skin. The tree’s spindly top bounced upright. Tree topper angels had a place for the tree to go on their bottoms. The toy didn’t have wings either but her dolly had a sweet face like real tree-topper angels. Upending Baby Alive revealed the place where the baby doll went potty.

The hole there was small but after working at it, Sunshine stripped the needles away and was able to jam the red-streaked doll down onto the tree top.

“Pretty,” she said.

Sunshine rocked back and forth in her slippers. Snow melted against her pink skin, causing rivulets of blood-streaked, icy water to trail down her face. She beamed. Her tree was beautiful. Her rocking was soon accompanied by soft humming, which quickly turned into a few disjointed and choppy Christmas carols, as best as she could remember them.

The neighbors’ curtains were open once more and someone stood inside with the telephone held tight to an ear.

Dense morning fog now joined the freely falling snow, encasing the scene of Sunshine’s Christmas as a dusky, echoless vignette. Through the thickening fog, spinning blue and red lights approached slowly, routinely, as they reflected off the shining snow.

Sunshine sang louder, dancing in swirling circles around the tree as the lights grew brighter. The sound of a car grew near and a police cruiser pulled into their driveway.

The neighbor in the window flung his free hand toward the road as he screamed silently into the receiver of his phone.

Sunshine’s front door flew open and Aunt Sal stepped outside to get a look at who was parked in the yard. Bloodshot eyes swept the footprints in the driveway, the bloodied path beside the road, the small tree in her front yard. Her bloody, smiling niece.

“See! See!” Sunshine squeaked. “Merry, Merry Christmas!”

“Oh, Sunny, what have you done?” Aunt Sal managed to say. She turned her head to release the vomit induced by last night’s cheap pinot and the aromas emitted from the scene in the yard.

Empowered, Sunshine sang louder.

Aunt Sal will tell me how beautiful our tree is after she’s done being sick and finds her some morning coffee. Maybe she will even sing Jingle Bells or Silent Night if I say pretty please…I will just have to wait.

Sunshine beamed.