This is a
Winter Holidays Story Contest 2023
submission. It's been a while since I penned a story, and I thought that this was the perfect time! I hope you enjoy!!
Cover to cover
The room was cold. It felt lonely and empty. The drooping artificial Christmas tree, sparsely decorated with its faded baubles and weak fairly lights still felt sad and unwanted.
The air was still and we sat in silence. The tick of the clock deafening. Stephen sat opposite me staring into space. I was in his eyeline, but he didn't even notice me. I could feel the depression radiating from him. He was so lost these days. It broke my heart to see it.
He barely paid me any attention anymore, but I loved him so much that I worked hard not to let it bother me. My love for him had never waned. I knew that he still loved me greatly. Yet it felt like an age since he had touched me.
When we first met, we were both young and inexperienced. We met in a shop. I was there with my friends, I saw him and thought little of it. He was unremarkable looking. I overheard him asking the shop clerk something, he brushed past me, knocking me slightly so that I fell. I was angry at first, but as he picked me up, that first touch was electric. I was still angry, but a thrill ran through me as he gazed at me, drinking me in. He had a look of wonder in his eyes that made my ire evaporate.
We left the shop together; I was unsure at first who this stranger was. Would he treat me with respect? Would this be little more than a short-lived thing? But I was powerless to resist him.
Those early times together were my fondest memories. It wasn't long after our first meeting that I gave myself to him. He treated me with a reverence that I felt I didn't deserve. He was gentle and kind. The first time he really touched me his hands shook with excitement and anticipation.
He took me to his bed and laid me flat. He lowered himself next to me and lightly caressed my front, running his fingers over my bumps. Then he caressed my spine and my rear. I knew then that this man mine and I was his.
As he explored me for the first time, I felt his fingers working their magic inside of me. His eyes devoured me and I felt one with him.
He told all of his friends about me, he talked about me so incessantly that I felt embarrassed. We were constant companions. Yet it was in our intimate times, when he opened me, that we went on our most exciting adventures. I told him my story with as much passion as I could muster. At times he laughed, he even cried. But his passion for me grew and consumed him. Changed him.
We were happy together.
But as time marched on, age and life wore him down. We both started to develop the odd wrinkle and we started to spend less and less time together. He spent more time at work or with his friends and I was shelved. As much as I wanted to change, to please him, it wasn't in my nature to be anything other than what I am. Then the accident happened. It's still difficult for me to talk about it. It wasn't Stephen's fault. Perhaps it's was fate, or inevitability. My spine broke and my life changed entirely.
I was terrified that Stephen would replace me, upgrade me. He stopped wanting to touch me, afraid that he would break me.
His life started to take a downward turn shortly after. He lost his job and struggled to find a new one. The anxiety and depression invaded him and began to gnaw at him.
I tried to comfort him, even in my broken state I was still the same as I'd ever been. I thought that if he had just paid me a little attention, I could remind him of the joy I had within.
However, as his condition deteriorated, he ignored me, unable to even look at me.
So, there I was. Sat in silence with him. Whilst others took joy in Christmas eve, carolling, ice skating. Eating, drinking, visiting friends and family. We listened to the stillness. Watching the clock.
Stephen dragged himself out of the chair, his tired eyes held a pain which tore at him. He shuffled out of the room, head hung low. I rarely went to the bedroom with him any longer and simply sat in my place.
I don't need a lot of sleep, but I must have dozed. I was awoken by a shuffling. Blearily, I saw a shadow. I was alarmed, frozen with fear. Hoping it was not an intruder.
Yet the most unlikely figure materialised from the shadows. He was huge, easily 7 feet tall, his hat brushing the ceiling. His wide shoulders, powerful. He was dressed entirely in black.
"I know you're there. I know you're awake" he rumbled. The depth of his voice sent a shudder through me. It was rich, deep and full. Yet it was kind. He inflected his speech with some kind of joy.
Who is that? I wondered, now more intrigued than afraid.
"Do not be afraid. You know who I am. It is Christmas eve after all" He answered playfully, reading my thoughts.
It can't be! I gaped at him.
"Expecting red?" He chuckled. I made no answer, simply gaping at the impossible figure in front of me. He clicked his fingers and the fairy lights flared bright, illuminating his face. Ruddy cheeks and big white bushy beard.
"I have never worn red. Damnable marketing ploys!" He grumbled. "Red is so conspicuous!" He continued.
"Now then, I have been watching you" He said, settling himself down in the same seat as Stephen vacated some hours earlier. The chair creaked and groaned under his weight. His statement gave me a kind of odd feeling.
"Oh, not like that!" He tutted. "You have never asked me for anything. In fact, you have never asked anyone for anything in your entirely life. You've only ever given of yourself to one person: Stephen."