Once a month my local writing group sets a theme for a piece of writing each member will submit. This month’s topic was “Christmas”. I decided to take an old story my Uncle often tells of my Grandpa (who passed when I was very young) and weave it into my own lasting memories of both my Grandpa and our family Christmases.
Christmas with Grandpa
In fifteen minutes we had to leave to go to Grandpa’s for Christmas. Christmas was always fun with my family. Mum, Dad, my older sister and younger brother, Nana, Grandpa, my uncles, aunties, and cousins. Plus, all the food and more presents! I’d already received loads of presents from Mum and Dad, and Father Christmas, but I couldn’t help but wonder what I’d get from the rest of my family.
The drive there usually took ages. That’s because both my uncles lived so far away and unless Christmas was at our house or Nana’s it’d take half an hour at least. But this year it’s just around the corner at Grandpa’s. I wondered what trick he’d play, or what marvellous story he’d tell. Grandpa never failed to stir up some fun! As we pulled up the drive my eyes were immediately drawn to the soft glow of numerous red, green and white lights that shone through the drapes covering Grandpa’s window. They formed the shape of a Christmas tree.
Before heading in we had to help Mum and Dad carry something. I never knew why Mum would bring so much. There’s always heaps of food and drink left over every year but she insisted. Everyone else agreed with me too. Cradling a giant ham concealed in a cloth bag with both my arms I passed the loungeroom and looked in. Peering over the bag, I saw Grandpa’s mesmerising tree. It was lit and decorated fancily just like one you’d see in a Christmas movie. Under it, a massive stack of neatly wrapped presents.
‘Joshie!’ I heard Grandpa’s familiar voice calling as I entered the kitchen. He came straight over and took the ham from my arms and proceeded to scruff my hair as he always did. ‘Joshieeeee!’
He stopped and pulled back as if suddenly remembering something.
‘Alright. We’re all here, I’ve got something to show you all.’
Many of the adult’s eyes met around the room and over the table as if they knew what might be coming.
‘Come on, you kids come inside,’ he yelled, gathering us grandchildren.
A trip to the back door and a few loud calls later saw the whole family gathered in the kitchen in anticipation.
‘This year’s a special Christmas,’ he assured us all. ‘Santa came last night; he left me a special present.’
Looking around I saw the faces of my younger siblings and cousins glowing in anticipation. But us older ones weren’t so easy. We knew that what Grandpa was doing was likely a joke, possibly a trick, and rarely just what he promised.
‘Wait here,’ he said, before disappearing into his bedroom and shutting the door.
We waited, all of us kids and the adults too. A buzz of curiosity and excitement floated about the room. A few moments later Grandpa reappeared. His hands cupped as if holding something within.
‘Now,’ he began. ‘If I show you this, you have to all swear never to tell another soul.’
He insisted. All of us children began nodding while the adults eyeballed one another, frowning in between sips of their drinks.
‘I’ve got Santa’s house pet!’ he told us. ‘He’s a bit skittish, and maybe scary, but Santa’s left him here for special keeping under my care.’
Noticing the children’s excitement as they jumped and begged to see, Grandpa lifted his hand and sitting right there in his palm was the biggest, hairiest, huntsman any of us had ever seen. Us older kids were blown away and my younger siblings and cousins squirmed in fear.
‘No, no, don’t worry, this is Santa’s house pet,’ Grandpa did his best to reassure them. ‘A huntsman won’t hurt anyone and I can hold him no worries! See?’
Grandpa held out his hand twisting it in order to show the creature off as it scampered across and around his hand, and then up his arm.
‘Ouch!’ Grandpa screamed, his yell loud enough that everyone in the room jumped in fright.
He flicked his arm violently hurling the huntsman to the floor. Then, just as soon as everyone’s eyes had managed to find it again, the thick sole of Grandpa’s leather boot pressed down hard on top of it. We all cringed at the sight of Santa’s huntsman’s legs and innards smeared across the kitchen floor.
‘The damned thing bit me!’
W. A. Greenly. 