You Are Here

You are here, at the cusp of adulthood, the key is in your hand for 21C Autumn Lodge.
He is there, teetering on the edge of maturity in an adult body, a coffee in hand, a dog by his side and the world on his tongue.
For the love category of the Christmas Competition 2017

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13. And hell turned into heaven

 

And hell turned into heaven

When the day after that the snow still fell.

Teardrops froze

Onto still frozen ground

And ice rinks were made of mole hills.

 

It was again you that went to her door,

Noticing the day before that

No tree

Graced the high windows there.

You go to her door,

And she opens

Up half entrenched in dreams.

Literally this time,

Still in and out of the waves

Of unconsciousness.

 

“I noticed you didn’t have a tree,”

You say with a half grin,

Hoping that it twists your face into something pleasant.

 

“I do have a tree,”

She retorts

The sleep crinkling

Her face into a scrunch.

“I just haven’t put it up yet,”

And she crosses her arms like a child.

The snow child

Becoming more so.

 

“Then let’s put it up.”

She doesn’t become a hurdle as you move into the apartment.

She lets you in because it is familiar now,

And she even lets it open

For the black

Beast of a sun god to

Come trotting through

Something fierce

A second later.

 

She shows you to a five foot tree in a box,

Something fake

But traditional.

There’s also an assortment

Of materials

That looked like a junkyard but for Christmas.

 

“Do you have a theme in mind?”

You ask and get a grunt in return

Because the sleep rules still.

 

And she goes to make some coffee

To chase wakefulness into her eyes.

You stay and peruse the book shelves,

Knowing that she will appreciate something

Peculiar

Instead of conventional.

 

You brainstorm and she stirs in coffee grounds.

That is the storm this time,

A storm of ideas and consciousness.

“Snowmen?”

She grunts.

“Red and Gold for Gryffindor?”

“I am in fact not a Gryffindor.”

“Harry Potter overall?”

“As long as you don’t tear up the books.”

 

That was blasphemy.

 

And she had a printer.

So you printed off book pages

And she showed you how to do origami,

You never being too good at anything with your hands. 

 

There were star and moon ornaments there already

And an old witches hat to become the star on top.

You fashioned wings onto gold baubles

For snitches,

And tied a woollen striped scarf near the top.

 

And when two bodies sat side by side,

And one to one,

They gazed at the wonder they had made.

Suddenly the apartment

Was a cold sighing mountain

And being with her was the refuge

You didn’t know you needed.

 

Dusk room aglow with happiness,

There was nothing more to do

But sit and watch

Each other and their work,

And bask in the greatness

That was from home to home.

 

Who knew the Christmas Tree

Was the heart of it all?

The pine that chimed Christmas

Through the home

That wasn’t truly a home

Unless they were both in it. 

 

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