Advent Letters: Year One, Letter Three

Dear Cousins Mellema,

I want to start with an apology of sorts. Avvu has developed the unsavory habit of reading my letters before sending them. (Avvu: I’m not just “reading” his letters--I’m proof-reading them at Erno’s own request!). He felt my previous letter portrayed him unfairly. So to be clear, Avvu is a capable assistant and loyal friend. And do not let the fact that he is a polar bear lead you to believe he is clumsy--I am sure his catastrophic bumping of the whirl-a-mailer last week had nothing to do with his giant body and saucer-plate paws.

With that settled, we can return to the tale. I believe last week ended on something of a cliffhanger...

***

The boys scattered. Matt ran with flailing arms as pounding earth and crashing trees rose behind him. Too afraid to look back, he leaped over the nearest snowbank and covered his head.

After several moments of panicked breaths into his chest, the ground stopped shaking. He mustered the courage to peek over his snowbank. He thought a large shadow dropped behind the farthest hill past their house. Then he stood, stunned by the new silence of the night.

Jer was already out in the yard, peering at the glade where the shadow appeared. The trees were bent in half. On the yard’s far side, a section of fence was broken to splinters.

Bri’s head popped out of a bush. “Is it gone?”

“Yeah.” Matt said, trying to keep his voice calm. 

He and Bri walked to Jer, who was kneeling by tire-sized depressions in the snow. Matt stared at them with a twisting mouth. “Footprints?”

“I think so.” Jer said, tracing the outlines with a stick.

“An elephant?” Bri asked.

“Too big,” Jer replied, “they’re like three times the size of an elephant.”

“More like five times,” Matt said, stepping closer as Jer rolled his eyes.

“What is it?” Bri asked.

“I don’t know.” Matt said, thinking through his animal books. What had bigger feet than an elephant. A dinosaur? But the silhouette against the trees was so . . . human. Matt shuddered.

“Why was it here?” Bri persisted.

“I don’t know.” Matt said

“But how did--”

“Bri! I literally know as much as you do.” Matt looked at Jer, who was staring ahead with a blank face.

“You dropped the ruby in the snow?” Jer asked.

“Yeah . . .” Bri replied.

“It landed over there?” Jer pointed to a patch of ground where the snow looked scooped by a giant shovel. 

The ruby was gone.

“This is your fault!” Matt yelled at Bri. “Why did you run out of the house?!?”

“What do you mean?” Jer cut in, “if you hadn’t taken the ruby from the mantle, Bri wouldn’t have grabbed it.”

“But Bri only grabbed it because you attacked me!” Matt fired back.

Matt and Jer were in each other’s faces, and Bri was deciding whose back to jump on. Then a high-pitched screech came from the house. The boys’ heads whipped toward a small shadow careening out the back door. Was it Katie? But Katie would never run in the snow. Could it be a raccoon? A coyote?

Whatever it was, it charged straight for them, ramming Jer into the snow. Jer tumbled and rolled, clutching wildly at at. Matt caught glimpses of wiry hair and bony limbs. Then he grabbed a fallen pine branch and whacked at the thing.

“Stop! You're . . . Ow! Pine needles!” Jer grunted.

“Sorry!” Matt dropped the branch. With a grimace, he reached for the kicking and writhing thing. Was it a monkey? A ventriloquist puppet?

“Here!” Bri cried, wheeling out a trash can. With a heave, Jer and Matt dumped the thing into the can. Bri hopped on the lid. Muffled yells echoed from inside. 

“What now?” Matt asked, checking his hands for cuts.

“Let’s take it to the garage.” Jer said.

“Are you sure? Maybe we should just--”

“Yeah!” Bri cut in. “Let’s see what it is.”

Bri and Jer were halfway across the yard before Matt could object.

The boys opened the garage door slowly to avoid waking Grandpa Dan or Grandma Sue. They set the can in the middle of the room and plugged in an old Christmas tree. Then they watched the can shake in the golden light.

Finally, Matt said, “Let’s tip it over. If it’s a raccoon or fox, we shoo it straight out. It might have rabies.” 

The boys stared. 

“Also,” Matt continued, “we should defend ourselves.” Jer and Bri nodded, and each grabbed a trash can lid and hockey stick. Matt took a saucer sled and baseball bat. 

They went on staring.

“Well?” Jer asked.

“Well what? Bringing him in was your idea.” Matt said.

“If you don’t like it, then wheel it outside.” Jer replied. 

Nobody moved.

Finally, Bri got a steely expression. He ran and kicked over the can and then leaped behind an old couch. A crash, a squeal, and then silence. The can lay on its side, lid open. Scurrying feet echoed. The boys held their breath, fingers tightening around their shields.

Finally, out of the darkness stepped the thing.

The boys looked at each other, then back at the thing. ”How . . . Who?”

“I am Kanute the red gnome!” It shouted, “and you boys have made the worst mistake in the history of Christmas!”

***

And now that Avvu is peeking over my shoulder, I know it is time for me to stop and let him snoop away.

I remain respectfully yours,

Erno

Avvu: I appreciate Erno’s apology, but it wasn’t necessary. Erno gripes about everything, all the time, so I stopped paying attention years ago. And if he does get anything wrong, I’ll be here to correct him in the margins! Just don’t tell him ;)