HC

  I stumbled out of bed, heading for the toilet, and noticed it seemed mighty light outside for 4:26 AM. I pulled back one of the window curtains and could not believe my eyes.

  The world outside was white, and little fluffy specks of cloud-colored miracle lazily drifted from the sky, blanketing everything in peace. I stood there mesmerized until I remembered what’d woken me, then went to the bathroom.

  Once I was refreshed, I was also inspired, so I grabbed my data pad and exited the bedroom on quiet feet, not wanting to wake my wife, Paddy.

  It was September, and my wife and I were on vacation in Yellowstone National Park, enjoying a meager cabin that was surrounded by towering pines and smelled of fresh earth.

  The scene was as magical as you could imagine, the perfect inspiration for a new story for Muriel and Harley. Couldn’t my fictional characters have a lovely Yuletide while I was on vacation?

  Fingers to keypad, I began typing the next short story for my collection: “Murder Yule."

  “Guess: milk or dark?” my wife, Harley, asked.

  My eyes were closed, and I was pretending to not know that she had a dark chocolate buckeye an inch from my lips. Obliging her, I opened my mouth and felt the little bonbon on my teeth, so I bit down, humming in appreciation as peanut butter melted on my tongue.

  “Definitely dark,” I smiled, opening my eyes and pulling her into my lap. She bent forward, tongue licking the chocolate from my lips, and I sighed against her mouth. Just as things were about to get interesting, Buzzz! went her alarm.

  “Unghhh,” I groaned, and Harley giggled against my cheek.

  “It’ll be worth it,” she promised, hopping up and darting off to the kitchen. I could smell the delight she pulled from the oven, and I savored a sip of cabernet, settling into the sofa, enjoying the lights of the yule tree.

  “Play the next level of Fraction Fever for me, pleeeease,” my wife begged, and I laughed at her.

  She knew I hated the silly game, and she was supposed to be using it to help with her math for the Graduate Record Exam coming up soon.

  Harley had a community college degree in History, but she wanted to get her MBA, focusing on Public Relations, and I supported her ambition, so I tried helping her study for the standardized test. I’d do anything she needed if it would give her a boost.

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  But what good was it to have me level up her math game for her? I rolled my eyes, but picked up her pad and started tapping my way through the fractions.

  The game was too predictable. Bounce, bounce, bounce 16/8= 2. Just like last time. Bounce, bounce, 1078/11= 98. I could probably do it with my eyes closed. I took a sip of cabernet, then set my wine glass on the end table, continuing the game.

  You might be wondering what we were doing on a Friday night, playing silly games and eating bonbons before the main course, but don’t worry, we ate a late lunch of baked ziti with a huge salad that had veggies and everything. Of course, it was drenched in sweet onion dressing, blue cheese, and dried cranberries, but that’s beside the point!

  For our winter celebration, we always had snack dinners, which meant we could eat whatever the fuck we wanted. So, buckeyes were the first course. Who doesn’t want chocolate-covered peanut butter bonbons as an appetizer?

  A smile graced my face as I looked at our cozy living room, wiggling my socked feet. Above the snowman socks were the blue and cream flannel pants Harley’d given me, topped off with a comfy ice blue sweatshirt.

  I’d gifted her a similar set in hues of pink and pale green, and she was dancing around the kitchen wearing them. While my wife prepped the next course, I took in the lit tree that should’ve been a cacophony, but wasn’t.

  For whilst my wife had a zany streak, she also was crafty in the good way that meant our holiday decorations were homey without being trashy, and the tree was more than just decor. It was a record of memories. Our memories.

  Six years we’d been married, and the Yule tree held a picture for every year we’d been together, always taken in the pjs we’d gifted each other that year.

  When Harley and I were dating, we’d agreed that we both wanted to be free of the holiday obligations that weighed so many people down. So, we just didn’t do anything that we didn’t want to.

  Which meant no religious celebrations and no family time. We weren’t neo-pagans. I mean, who wanted to go outside in winter clad in nothing but the stars and dance with burning sage or something?

  But, we loved the idea that mid-winter was the longest night of the year, so we celebrated the holiday season on the winter solstice. We called it “Yule” since that sounded Norse and history-ish. Tonight was Yule Eve, and we had next week off work, so there was exactly zero stress going on in the townhouse.

  I stretched my legs, listening to the fire crackling in the hearth and watching the purple, orange, and turquoise lights twinkle on the tree. There were royal blue, fuchsia, and gold-striped candy canes hanging from the tips of the branches, and, of course, strung popcorn draped in a ring around the tree.

  It was a testament to my wife’s creativity and love, and everything about it sang, “Unique.”

  I listened to Harley humming along to music in the kitchen and couldn’t help a laugh. It was a vulgar, hilarious song she kept playing on repeat, “It’s a slay ride, baby, don’t let me down. It’s a slay ride, headin’ for pound town!”

  Harley giggled to herself, and I heard her soft footsteps coming towards me before she kissed the top of my head. I leaned back, intending to pull her mouth to mine, but at that moment, she set the puff-pastry wrapped brie on the table, knocking my wine glass, and sending it tumbling.

  Wine hit my data pad, and crackling green light shot out, zapping Harley’s arm. She yelped, and I reacted, activating my Will-Based Foaming Bubbles Control, snapping a shield around my wife, but it was too late. She was already coated in sizzling green lightning, and that current traveled from her through my bubbles, covering me.

  Next thing I knew, the world was searing pain, and Harley’s scream shredded me as my whole being was sucked into a storm of madness, red lightning, and tearing, rending suffering.

  Then, as suddenly as it had started, it ended, and “Oomph!” I was flat on my back, Harley on top of me, groaning, and not in the good way.