This was actually the topic I chose to write during the final year exam last year. I rewrote it only better than the original.
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What seemed to be a thin coat of white cake frosting was actually a layer of freshly fallen snow which barely covered the hill outside. You would imagine the snow to descend perfectly in a graceful manner forming a coat as smooth as marble of white on the ground. Instead, snow forced down by the undesirable gush of wind gave the earth a wavy texture; more of water current than levelled metamorphic rock.
In fact, the cold breeze created an eerie atmosphere as the trees swayed along reluctantly. Twigs fell from its place and onto the ground as the weight of snow resting on it became difficult to bear. Once gravitated, these twigs drift with the wind at ground level, scratching the wavy patterns of snow, thus designing what can only be described as bone-like figures. With diligent and careful observation, one can’t help but notice how the wind twirls looking for an escape within the trees, takes shape of a person, like ones you see in movies.
In addition to the uncanny wind, the moonlight gave the hill outside a graveyard feel, a very hostile impression. The layer of snow reveals the ground to have blotches and bruises as the snow took shape of the rocks and gravel, almost as if it is wounded or worst, dead. All these put together to form an uneasy and chilling feeling I had by just looking out the window.
I dropped myself on the big brown armchair across the fireplace. From where I sat, the hill outside can be clearly watched. On my right, a glass of milk and two palm-sized chocolate chip cookies on a yellow plate was laid about an hour ago by my sister. She never fails to put out some snacks every year at this time in high hopes that it would be eaten by morning and no doubt, it always came true.
I observed the festive ornaments my family and I set up a week ago. I studied the four red socks hung along the sill of the fireplace, each inscribed with our initials. I noticed that my sock was slightly tilted out of place towards the right, but made no attempt to adjust it. The tree stump outside – of which our Christmas tree came from – was visible from my point of view. Naturally, my eyes diverted to the now decorated tree at the corner. I eyed the tree from top to bottom.
I turned to look at the intact glass of milk and plate of cookies on the side table. Ignoring my sister’s warnings to not touch them, I went along with temptation and slowly brought the plate of cookies to my chest. I well know that these refreshments weren’t meant for me, but I picked it up anyway, my mouth full of desire. This process of consumption would satisfy my hunger and lust, but mostly, I just wanted to annoy her. I breathed in the aroma and sunk my teeth into the brown biscuit that I helped bake that morning. After chewing for a while, I took another bite and drank a gulp of milk.
The blaze in front entertained me for a moment as I stared at it moving about as if dancing to the unpleasant howling of the wind against the window sill. Its crackling sound joined in the symphony, and with the tapping of my finger on the table, the ensemble was complete.
I remembered how dad used to sit there with me on Christmas Eve till midnight, watching everything around us, just like me now. That was our bonding time; the time when I’d share everything that happened that year and he’d respond with advice. Then, we’d listen to the fire crackle and the wind howling together. However, I’d never make it to midnight. Sleep had always taken over best of me by then and I never bothered to fight it, because I know dad would tuck me in later and I like that. I imagined him carrying me to bed, and later eat the light refreshments set on the side table, to avoid sheer disappointment from my sister the next day for he well knew that the person she was expecting, wasn’t going to come.
A year later, I sat there alone; no dad. He was gone and I was determined to stay up till the clock strike twelve, to honour our little tradition. I was going to hang on all the way because I know dad would be there with me, as always. I wasn’t ready to let go of that feeling just yet.
However, slowly my eyelids became heavy; the weight more profound with each musical cadence. I fought to resist the urge of deep slumber; the need for rest. My body hung on, but my mind didn’t. In my head, dad would eventually carry me to my bed, and that would be it – until the next day when we’d all wake up cheerfully. This time, I wanted more to stay awake; to feel the tenderness of dad’s embrace again, before it left me too. I kept opening and reopening my eyes, rubbing them over and over again, in desperate hopes to rid myself of drowsiness. Half an hour left till I could engage in long and peaceful hibernation. Only 30 minutes away, but I couldn’t wait any longer.
As my eyelids grew closer together, I didn’t fight it anymore. It seemed that I’ve lost the battle; I’ve raised the white flag.
The musical sound became louder and louder, eventually forming a melody somewhat of a jingle more than just beatings and drumming. Still, I positioned myself to a slouch as to make my sleep more restful. It was only after a while that I noticed something odd.
The sound evolved from a simple jingle to a soft yet loud one. I could hear it perfectly, but I knew that the rest of my family couldn’t regardless of its clarity of sound. Despite, I made no move as to retain the comfortable position on the armchair – assuming that the music was only a figment of imagination.
Suddenly I heard a sound – friction by a moving object on a stationary one. It took me by surprise and naturally, I jumped. As my eyes took focus on the surroundings, I remember seeing was a blurred bit of red and white by the Christmas tree. However, it wasn’t of bright red and pure white, instead, a maroon red and greyish-white.
Soon, the man standing there came to clear view. “Hi, there! Sorry if I woke you”, the man said – his voice in a warm, singing style. “I’ll just be on my way.” His eyes glanced at the empty place and glass on the table. Then he smiled warmly.
I, seated on the armchair, fell frozen as my eyes mimicked his, turning to the empty plate. Overwhelmed by the unexpected event, I said nothing and did nothing. Only my eyes followed this man as he crept out the door silently as can be. Even as he opened the door and closed it once again, all was calm, all was bright.
Still in awe of the encounter, I managed to make my to the Christmas tree and picked up the first package I could reach. It was addressed to me. “Never stop believing. Merry Christmas! SC”, it read.
At an instant, I looked out the window, my eyes gliding through the fog in search of that man. I saw nothing. Only the same musical jingle as before was heard – slowly fading away in to the distant.
I looked at the clock, “12.30am”, it read. A moment later, realisation hit me in the head and soon I felt scared. Shivers crept down my spine as I quickly made my way into my room, under the safe embrace of my covers. For a while, I laid in bed, replaying the incident that just happened over and over again. I very well knew that it wasn’t another one of my made up stories because I was most definitely sane. For that reason, I will never forget this astonishing experience. I will never forget that night I welcomed an unexpected visitor in my house.
-9 June '09
Cluck, cluck! 
If you always shop in Mid Valley, then you'd know where I took this
Alien eyes!! Just in time for Halloween!!
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