Stories from a Crazy Person's Diary

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

A heavy silence fell over the house as blackness descended like a plague.

The toddlers in Uncle Greg’s arms screamed.

I stood stock still, hoping that no one would run over me.

In the various parts of the house, I heard shouts, wails, crying, and exclamations of surprise.

“Stay calm,” I shouted. This seemed to cause more uproar.

I bumped into someone, “Who is it?” I asked.

“Aunt Hannah,” she replied.

“Do you know where the candles or flashlights are?” I asked.

“There are some flashlights in the pantry.” She said, you go get those, and I will try to get some out of the guest bedroom closet where the littles were playing tent.”

Trying to navigate your cousin’s house with no eyesight is no easy feat.

I am not actually sure how I got to the kitchen. I know that on the frightful journey there, I stubbed my toe on what I believe was a table leg, and I also damaged the same unfortunate foot with a Lego. (Boy, if I ever find the wretched person who doesn’t pick up their toys…)

Finally, I slammed into the kitchen door frame.

I knew it was the kitchen because the smell of cold soup greeted me when I lifted my bruised face from the doorframe.

Keeping one hand against the wall for added guidance and support, I stepped into the kitchen.

Cold, sticky soup greeted my feet uncomfortably and made the going quite dangerous due to its incredible slipperiness.

I almost fell several times, only saving myself by flailing my arms wildly in the air and grabbing for invisible objects, which sometimes proved to be unstable as well.

My hands closed on the pantry door handle, and I yanked it open and entered.

Though the spilled soup had not reached the pantry floor, it was, if possible, darker in the pantry.

Only the faintest of outlines of the shelves were barely visible.

It occurred to my mind that Aunt Hannah had not specified where the flashlights were in the pantry.

Groping around, I prayed that nothing heavy would fall from the top shelf onto my head. My hand closed around something round and hard and relatively like a flashlight.

Then something fell.

Luckily, it hit my shoulder, not my head.

Bending over, I found the object and picked it up. After feeling it, I realized, to my joy, that it was a flashlight!

I found the switch and… *click*…the flashlight didn’t turn on.

*click, click, click* *CLICK*

“UGG,”  I groaned and threw the flashlight to the floor.

A soft rumbling rocked the shelves above my head.

“Uh oh.”

Several heavy metal objects rolled off the shelves and bounced off my head and shoulders. “Gahhh!” I shouted, attempting to shield myself from the falling objects.

The last item bounced off my head and hit the floor loudly.

I bent down and cautiously picked up one of the ‘things.’

It was another flashlight. I held my breath and flicked on the switch.

*Click*

The heavens sang, let there be light!

Just as the flashlight turned on, a horrific bang shook the house, and the tinkling of shattered glass. This was followed by the power going back on.

I stamped out of the pantry, blinking in the sudden glare of the lights. The state of the kitchen was too disastrous to describe.

Picking my way through the rubble on the floor, I marveled at how I managed to walk through the kitchen in the dark without slicing my foot open on the shards of broken bowls, which were liberally scattered across the floor.

Aunt Hannah appeared in the doorway. She took one look at the kitchen, and her expression froze in horror.

“Eve,” she said, her voice sounding faint. “What happened in here? Did you do this?”

I shook my head solemnly, “The only damage I inflicted was to allow myself to get brained by a couple of dozen heavy-duty flashlights in the pitch dark.”

Aunt Hannah looked down at my hands.

“I see you managed to find a flashlight, but why are you holding canned cinnamon rolls?”

I looked down at my left hand and grinned sheepishly. I set the can on the counter. “In the dark, I mistook it for a flashlight.”

Aunt Hannah smiled, then looked back at the kitchen and shuddered. “I came here to see what the crash was about.”

“I heard it too,” I said, “But I don’t know what it was.”

I hopped out of the kitchen and followed Aunt Hannah to the living room.

When we entered, Aunt Hannah came to a sudden standstill.

She gasped, and her eyes flew open dramatically.

“The Christmas tree!” she exclaimed.

I peered around her and winced.

The Green’s enormous, beautiful Christmas tree lay sprawled on its side. Its ornaments scattered across the floor, and many shattered.

I looked closer at the tree.

Its branches were shaking strangely. I came closer for a better look.

An arm popped out of the tree, causing me to jump and the already unstable Aunt Hannah to shriek.

“Help,” came a small voice from the tree.

“Nathaniel!” Aunt Hannah exclaimed, her shock overcome by sudden worry for her son. She went over to the tree and, with my help, managed to lift the tree off the distraught seven-year-old.

Brushing broken ornaments from his shoulders, she gave him a quick hug. Then held him at arm’s length and began to reprimand him.

I decided to return to the kitchen to get a broom and dustbin. Turning around, I ran smack into Aunt Ruby.

“Ohhhh!” she squealed, tottering on her platform heels.

“I am so sorry,” I said, backing away and stepping on an ornament. Luckily, it wasn’t glass.

“I am trying to get a broom.”

I ran past my dad, who watched me with a dazed expression.

My dad was never one for relatives.

* * *

After about an hour of reconfiguration, Aunt Hannah and I managed to organize the kids into one group and plop them in front of the TV to watch some children’s Christmas Classics. To get them out of the way so we could finish cleaning up.

After much objection from the opposing party who wished to watch Frosty the Snowman, I managed to get them to settle on Rudolf, the red-nosed reindeer.

Just as peace began to descend, an objecting seven-year-old raised a wail for The Grinch, resulting in more uproar as every respectable party rose to defend their much-disrespected opinions.

I had already hit play for Rudolf and settled the debate by making it clear that it was Rudolf or bust.

Suddenly, everyone was very compliant.

The movie turned on. I went back over to help clean up the kitchen when, with gasping and moans, the power went out again.

Everyone handled it beautifully this time. Only the group gathered in front of the TV raised a fuss.

Me and Aunt Hannah shared a flashlight, and went back over to the living room. One of the dads started a fire. We lit candles and ate brownies for dinner. Since all of the soup was gone there was no way we were going to cook in the dark.

After that, it just got darker and darker, so we all stumbled to our very cold beds and the more timid ones voted to sleep on the couch and keep the fire going.

Finally, I could get to sleep and dream away this whole nightmare.

But it will be back tomorrow of course.

Ugg.

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