Naughty or Nice - Nice - Part Two

"Whaaa..." I wheeze dreamily, my body reacting and waking far slower than my panicked mind. Reaching once more for the curtain I snatch at it, pulling hard as I try to clear my vision only to let out another yelp. My scalp aches as I tug at the strands, the gears slowly grinding through the early morning malaise as the fact I was pulling on my own hair dawns on me.

Blinking rapidly, clearing hair and sleep from my eyes I begin to take in the room around me. With my gaze darting around I find myself laying in a lavish king sized bed, the wrought iron frame sitting in a spacious and well decorated room. The bed frame is a solid and heavy design, the black burnish iron sitting with thick sturdy legs accented with delicately formed filigrees. Blanket after blanket is piled top the bed, the thick and heavy begging practically pinning me to the mattress beneath.

With a howling wail the window rattles, the thick glass framed in iron with antique accents and hinges holding them in place. Snow races past in the wild and frenzied gusts of wind beyond, piles of the white flakes building up on the outside of the frame. The window is a surprising distance away, the room at large being far more expansive than any I had lived in in the past.

Looking up I'm met with the sight of a high vaulted ceiling, old and fresh wooden beams stretching out in the rafters while the sky lights above reveal only the white powder snow accumulating beyond. The walls around me are painted a deep dark red, the color of which is tinged with purple to make it almost a delicious shade of wine. A large antique wardrobe rests along the far wall, a door sitting open beside it as the hallway beyond begs for further exploration.

Naughty or Nice - Nice - Part One

As the doughy old man places the small gift box on my coffee table a mug is jostled, the ceramic soon tumbling to the floor with a loud crash.

I lurch up from my strained and light sleep, the smashing of the mug against the wooden floor ripping me from a dream already fading from my mind. The footfalls quicken in pace in the living room down the hall, the soft steps soon disappearing out the window before the sound of bells begin to pull away and into the distance.

Despite the freezing temperature I leap from my bed, pulling open the draw of my bedside table as I grab out the heavy metal torch sitting within. Armed to the best of my ability and with a stream of harsh light in hand I begin to tentatively pace towards the bedroom door.

Hunched low I slowly open the door with a painfully long creak, my bleary sleep filled eyes straining to see in the darkened rooms despite the harsh stream of light pouring from the powerful torch. Creeping down the hallway I careful step into the combined living room and kitchen. The window sits up, snowflakes slowly falling in as a harsh and painfully cold breeze billows inside.

Whipping my head around I soon find my torchlight pointed towards the shattered pale green coffee mug, my attention soon turning to the coffee table on which it once sat. My eyebrow cocks in confusion as I aim the torchlight at the object sitting in the center of the old low wooden table, my eyes squinting as I stare at the bright white and red striped present.

The scent of peppermint and sugar cookies hangs heavily in the air, an undertone of gingerbread wafting up to me as I inch towards the box. I swear that in the harsh light of the torch and the striking shadows of the dim apartment around me the box appears to shift, the pristine cardboard sides bulging and almost breathing like the thing is alive.