My White Tree and Its Scarlet Lights

My White Tree and Its Scarlet Lights

The screaming echoed down the stairs and into my room. The isolation of the basement was all but soundproof, and I could only truly be alone with my thoughts when all other household life forms were sleeping. To attempt further distraction, I read.

A book could take me farther away than any jet plane could strive. A new place. Even if this new place was a sad one, the sadness was different than that of my own, making it entirely more tolerable. If I cried whilst reading, it was somehow more cleansing than if I cried over my own misfortune. This was the only saving grace I could muster.

The holidays were notorious for bringing everyone together, but for me, they were the loneliest time of the year. This Christmas season was no exception.

I awoke at 1:13 in the afternoon. The darkness behind my closed eyes was replaced with a dreary haze after opening them. I could not find the energy to move for what seemed like hours, but after finally sitting up, the clock read 1:37. I walked over to my windowsill to admire the lights on my tree.

In an attempt to celebrate Christmas on my own, I put up my own tree this year. It was a small tree, exactly three feet tall. It had white branches and a white cotton base that appeared as snow. Its ornaments consisted of several small present shapes, and a few childhood fairytale characters. Its lights were black and red, and they beamed so brightly that even with the sunshine through my window, my room was scarlet.

The night was a whole different animal... The red took over the room until it enveloped me entirely. I breathed it in and let it flow through my body; pulsing through my veins and covering my vision like a thick haze. The light flooded into me until it erased everything before it; until it was all I knew.

I began to walk to my door to make the trudge up the stairs until I heard a crash. The noise followed more yelling, and I decided I did not need to see or hear what happened. I went back to my bed and opened up a book.

The next time I actively bothered to look out the window or listen to the upstairs, the noir sky and utter lack of screaming or stomping became prevalent.

This happened more and more as of late. I would distract myself with reading, thinking, or sleeping, and the day would vanish.

If the silence was present it was infinitely easier to travel up the stairs. As I opened my door and began walking I realized it had felt like a long while since I left my room.

When I reached the upstairs my heart began to race. I could no longer feel myself moving. I was scrambling yet gradually floating. No more furniture.

Empty rooms.

No one.

No one.

I ran back toward the stairs and while trampling down I missed a step and crashed face first into the railing, only to collide with step after step on the way down. I tried to stand but the red covered my hands and eyes and I could not reach anything to pull myself up with.

I was not safe yet. I had to make it to my room. I crawled. The pain would cease when I got to my bed...

Where was I? Where was the screaming coming from earlier?

I just needed to get to my room.

The door... I turned the knob and crawled in.

The bed...

I closed the door. I was safe.

My Tree lights lit my room again. I was safe.

The bed...

I crawled into the bed and closed my eyes.

I could feel the red trickle down my body until I was lying in a pool of it. The red surrounding and encasing my body... and the mist around my room closing in. I opened my eyes to see my tree and closed them again.

Finally, my mind shut off

Knocking. A knocking at my door woke me up. It started softly, but became gradually louder. I opened my mouth to speak, but I could not make a sound come out. I tried once more, but this time it made me cough.

Cough after cough and eventually blood started escaping my mouth and into my hands.

The coughing ceased and I noticed the knocking had as well. I laid back down and closed my eyes.

Red.

Knocking. Eyes opened. I tried to stand... My legs could not move. I attempted used my arm to push my left leg off of my bed, but I fell and hit the floor instead. The knocking became more forceful, more alarming. I tried to crawl to the door... I needed the knocking to stop. Moving made me cough again and the blood escaped, this time onto the floor. It formed a small sea and started to flow toward me until I was lying in it.

Eyes closed.

Red.

Knocking. Eyes opened. The knocking was forceful. It sounded as if the door was slowly cracking.

It became louder, until the knocks were terrifyingly forceful, and oddly spaced apart. It slowed down until there was a long pause in-between each knock. I tried to move again but I could not get one limb to obey my desperate plea. I threw my chest up and flew torso first into the pool underneath me. I started to shiver. I wanted to go back into my bed but I could not move.

Eyes Closed.

Red.

Knocking.

Eyes Open.

Eyes closed.

Red.

Eyes opened.

Coughing.

Eyes closed.

Red.

Eyes Opened.

Knocking.

This time I could not open my eyes all the way on the first try, but after several I opened my eyes to see my tree.

Through my blurred vision I could still see the scarlet lights as lucid as they had always been.

The knocking was gentle enough to lull me into comfort.

I began thinking of a time sitting with my mother on this bed as she was tying my shoes. I was three years old, and we were about to go to the beach together.

She smiled at me.

I smiled back.

I heard the door creak open as I closed my eyes.

Red.