No Christmas Music

Cover by Gayle of CoverD. Story by Serena Walken of serena-walken.com. (Check out for even more stories and surprises.) Read about the original world this piece came from in Dead Faerie Tales. Read more adventures like this in An Apocalyptic Fairytale singles. (Audiences can pick and choose how to follow.)

After being teased endlessly in Kindergarten, Carrie grew up being a normal person. She tried to think about being something else. A teacher. A graphic designer. An author. Her parents were worried that she would never choose an appropriate college since her interest waned in anything that wasn’t Christmas related. Okay, maybe she had been weird, and maybe she hadn’t.

Being born on Christmas just skewed her attention from the regular. She had a side job at a local store wrapping gifts when people came in to shop, and she loved helping people find what they wanted.

“Carrie?”

“Yes, Mom?” Carrie answered her as she gently shook her birthday/Christmas present.

“That boy who wanted to bring you to the dance? Where is he?” She questioned her. “I thought you said that you had invited him.”

That was another thing. Since Carrie didn’t know what she wanted for her future, her mother tried to persuade her to find someone. Her mother was hoping the man of her dreams would sweep Carrie off her feet and in a few years she’d be living on his company’s yacht. Her mother wasn’t raised in a pristine neighborhood, and she wanted her daughter to be secure. Love was a bonus, if included. Carrie's father was more passive. He was the kind who used the phrase ‘whatever your mom said’ too many times. Carrie looked over toward her mother, bracing herself. “You mean Michael?” She shook the gift in her hands, hearing no clinking sound. She knew there wouldn’t be. Each year she had received a material doodad gift, and a sweater. Carrie already had the doodad, but now she couldn’t wait to see the sweater. Noticing her mom had not taken her brazen eyes off of her, she had to continue. “Well, I don’t know. Jenny said I should stay away, and I don’t know him well enough to― ”

“You didn’t invite him?” Her mother covered her head in shame. “Carrie Childers, what am I going to do with you? Do you know who his father is?”

Carrie went back to concentrating on the gift. Sure, Michael was cute and good looking, but they weren’t happy together. Shouldn’t everybody be happy? She guessed that was why she had such a hard time choosing what to do with the rest of her life. Carrie wanted to help people, so what should she be?

Nurse? Police woman? Ninja Samurai warrior that comes out of the shadows to prevent evil?

Who knew. She heard her mom and dad talking behind her as she opened the box of clothes. A green sweater with a large red bell. Carrie's parents never seemed to know or understand her taste, but when it came to her sweater each year? They always knew exactly what to get. Carrie pulled her head through the sweater and flung her hair up and out of it. It fit snug against her skin. She hugged herself, basking in the feel of the warmth. Beside her was their firewood stove, radiating its warmth through the new clothes. There was nothing like new clothes, right beside a fire.

The rest of the night, her mom tried to talk again. Even though she was seventeen, Carrie never showed any signs of having interest in anything.

“Many people don’t know what they want to be at seventeen,” she told her mother. “Can’t we drop this already?”

“If you were a normal girl, yes, we could.” Her mother didn’t use the kindest words with her as their hands wrapped around each other’s. “We both know you’re far from normal.”

“What your mother means…” Carrie's father tried to join in. “…is that you’re special. Sweetie, you’re…”

“You are merry,” her mother finished for him. “You are too gracious, and stupid. This is a cruel world, Carrie Childers, and you need to survive in it. Last year you tried to donate half your room to charity! There isn’t room in this world for someone like that. You will wake up penniless and hurt.”

“In her defense, she did try to steal our credit card when she was younger,” her father said.

“Yes, to adopt orphans in third world countries,” her mother continued. “That doesn’t count as evil. Misguided and immature. She was only eight or so.”

Carrie's mother would never be happy with her until she knocked over a bank or something. Honestly, she could go out and graffiti the neighborhood, and her mother would be proud of her. Maybe Carrie was a little more generous than others, but she didn’t want to be what her mother wanted. Why couldn’t she be herself, and be appreciated? Why did she have to be bad to be loved?

“She won’t be a nurse, it would be too much. She can’t even watch regular fake blood. She won’t be a police woman, too violent. Honestly, Honey, what is she going to be?” her father questioned.

It was a question that her mother would always ask, especially on her birthday. One year closer to the big decision. What was Carrie going to be? She wanted to be someone that made others happy. That was all. People like that didn’t get paid though. Well, almost not. There was an opening for Mrs. Claus down at the mall, but her parents didn’t want her applying at all. They remembered when she was younger. The only thing she solidly ever admitted wanting to be.

“If she were crazy or depressed, there would be pills. What do you do for merriment?” Her mother scoffed. “If people knew the real you.”

“Nora,” her father said softly in his own way to disagree with Carrie's mom. “Honey, don’t get that hard.”

“That’s not hard, Phillip,” her mother said to him. “She never fights back. How can that be hard?”

The family was celebrating Christmas, so Carrie wouldn’t let her mom get her down tonight. She watched her parents open up their Christmas gifts and then turn in for the night. She headed to her room, ready to get into her warm pajamas. Oh, maybe some cocoa before she curled up into her bed too? Carrie turned on the light and closed the door. She went to school in popular shirts of trending brands, and she wore worn out jeans. She appeared ‘normal’ when she did those things. It was only when she could close the door that she could be herself. Carrie turned her Christmas CD on low enough that she could hear without her parents hearing it too. She softly hummed Noel as she moved toward her window and stared at the moon.

If only Santa had been real. Since Carrie's problem had been so intense at such a young age, her mother and father had broken the truth to her. While her classmates dreamed and talked about Santa, she had already known he didn’t exist. Her parents were the ones who placed gifts under the tree every year. As she grew older, it hurt more to stare up at the moon. Dreaming of a jolly man with a sleigh and magical reindeer, who had nothing in his heart but the best intentions of giving. Never receiving anything in return. The best of mankind.

But there was no place in the world for people like that. One would hear about how everyone wished people were nicer, and better. How more should donate to the poor. How everyone should help animals who were overrunning shelters. Yet, when someone came along that wanted to do nothing but help? “Grief.” Nothing but trouble. She learned in elementary school about the real world. Those were beautiful words, but few believed or followed them. “Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t exist, jolly one. Who knows what the world would try to do to you?” She closed the curtains and continued to hum as she slipped into her white cotton robe. Slipping on her house shoes she spun around, feeling the warmth.

A girl her age should be ‘jamming out’ to the latest band, or dancing the latest dance. There should be posters plastered on her walls of stars and good looking men. She shouldn’t be spinning around in a white robe listening to cheery songs. Maybe during Christmastime, but honestly, Carrie listened to merry music all year long. All she wanted to do was feel cozy and cherished. Although she never received the second, she could get the first. Warm. Cozy.

The door opened unexpectedly. Carrie quickly moved toward her CD player to turn the music off, but her mother beat her to it. She opened it up and took the CD. Carrie didn’t often risk this kind of music, but it was the season and she thought they had gone to bed.

“What have I said about these Christmas CD’s?” Her mother groaned as she held it tight.

“It is disobeying,” Carrie said trying to look on the bright side for her. “Rebellious?”

“You are even farther now from getting your mp3 player back. CDs. Next you are going to be hoarding tapes. You need to knock this off. We’re not wasting money on a psychiatrist.”

“It is Christmas time, can't I get a break?” Carrie pleaded. “People listen to Christmas music at Christmas time.”

“On the radio. Any other music and it's not allowed.” She closed the door behind her.

Oh. If only Carrie could give some of her happiness to her mother. She opened the closet and reached deep inside. It was down to tapes now. Tonight she couldn’t bring them out, but making sure she had them would help. Seeing her old tape player deck, she closed the door. There was something more pressing she needed to do before bed anyhow.

Jenny used to be terrible at math. She was one of the few friends Carrie had since she was often too positive minded for many people. Carrie pulled out Jenny's math homework and sat down to check it. Jenny's mother wasn’t generally supportive of her daughter's bad grades, so she did try and tutor when she could. Carrie checked Jenny’s homework, noticing she had two mistakes in the first four problems. Jenny needed to work on those. Carrie placed a tiny check in pencil next to each one, letting Jenny know she needed to fix and learn it before school was back in session. As she finished, she put it away and grabbed one of her spare blankets from the closet. The local shelter was getting low on blankets and food again according to their flyers. Slipping into her bed, she pulled her covers up, ready to dream of sugar plums. She was ready to dream of a world where someone like her would be welcomed.