“Love Came Down At Christmas”

(c) Katie Mattiuz 2015

(c) Katie Mattiuz 2015

This is a tale of love and hate, and falling long distances. It is a tale of killing to live, and living to kill. It is a tale of hope and faith. It is a tale of the magic of Christmas. It is a story of how something small can evolve into something that changes a life forever. It is a story about a timeless spirit that has been known by many names, but in this story, and because of the result, we will call this spirit Love.

100 years previous to the end of the tale, Love had cast the universe in darkness. A darkness so thick that all that could be seen is nothing. Love was a killer, a mutilator of the masses. Love had traveled through the universe stealing light and good, and keeping all it had stolen in a small, dark box, until finally, Love reached the planet earth.

It took many years, but Love finally conquered the good and light on this planet and along with all of the other positivity it had captured, Love placed it under a glass case in the lair the spirit had set up. It was the single greatest thing Love had ever done. It had finally broken every piece of matter it encountered and the universe was cast in the darkness Love had always desired.

Now, obviously, because I am able to tell this story and you are able to read it, something happened for that darkness to be raised. What was that you ask? Settle in, and hopefully enjoy.

Being a timeless spirit, Love didn’t sleep as we know it, and so it didn’t experience time as we do. There was a period during every twenty-four earth hours that Love would approach the glass case containing the prize, and revel in the destruction it had caused.

The routine consisted of song, and dance, typically with flailing arms and raucous cackling, accompanied by the chanting of some words we know. Typically it went, “death, hate, kill, maim, destroy, dismember, plague, trouble, crap, death, kill, hate, death, kill, hate!”

On this fateful day, December 6th some say, during a particularly boisterous display, Love stopped and considered the prize under the glass. What was it about all of this that these beings desired so much? Love thought. Why did people strive for this “good” or whatever they call it? Why am I so “happy”, as they call it, to have taken it away?

Love had never paused to think about its actions before, it had just acted on its own desires. This sent the spirit into, what is known in some places as, a “crisis of conscience” and Love went and slumped down against one of the outer walls of its tall tower.

In addition to the feelings Love had collected and encased, Love had also amassed a huge collection of the physical representations of these feelings. In attempts to connect and share with those in their vicinity and beyond, beings throughout the universe had spent eons putting hope into tangible parcels. On earth, these were represented as books, songs, and moving pictures. Where Love had decided to stew, it was near a pile of books by one being on earth who had chosen to spend his time writing stories about people’s interactions regarding hope, and the desire to connect and be accepted by others. While some would say this author, Nicolas Sparks, was a drippy, saccharine soaked joke, others absolutely loved his prose.

Love, while trying to destroy the questions in its head, decided to experience the first book atop the pile, The Notebook, with its story of Noah and Allie and, life-long devotion and connection.

Being a spirit, Love didn’t read in a way it was traditionally done. It absorbed the story and feeling. While this didn’t break Love, it sent a jolt through its earthly form and in no time, Love had absorbed every single Sparks work. The spirit then went through every other physical trinket of hope in the pile. The last pieces were from the earthly celebration called Christmas, and this is what sent Love, literally, over the edge.

“How can I continue to keep the universe in darkness and not let the beings feel this beauty?”

The words were not so much spoken, but emanated from Love.

“Because death! Kill! Death! Hate! Kill! Hate! Death! Kill! Murder! Hate! Eviscerate! Dismember! Hate! Kill! Death! Hate,” from the instinct side of Love.

“But Noah and Allie?”

“They died! Death, kill, death, hate, death, kill!”

“But The Longest Ride?”

“All the horses are dead! Death, kill!”

“But sleigh rides?”

“Horses! Dead!”

“But holly, and jolly, and mistletoe, and Landon and Jamie, and Theresa and Garrett, and the elves, and Ronnie and Will, and Nights in Rodanthe, and George Bailey!”

“They are all bullshit! It is all bullshit! Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit! Hate, hate, hate, hate, death, kill, hatedeathkill!”

Love slumped down against the wall feeling overwhelmed by its instinct, and its instinct felt victorious. This, however, was simply a distraction, as after a moment, Love rushed toward the glass case of positivity, and emotion. Love clasped it in its now hopeful claws, but its instinct was not to be vanquished so easily.

The internal battle was heavy. Love’s physical form was pushed and thrust and punished to every corner of the tower. Its instinct could not allow the glass to be broken, and Love, now overcome by everything it never used to be, was prepared to fight to the end, to let everything back into the universe it had stolen.

The end is no secret, as we are here to experience how it happened.

Love, in a final effort, mustered every ounce of every emotion and hope it had absorbed and while holding the case, leapt from the top of the tower. The fall was long, but Love knew it was the effort that was needed as it felt its instinct seep out of itself with every mile it fell. Recognizing how far Love was willing to go to win the battle, its instinct had no further action it could take.

When Love finally hit the decimated ground, breaking its physical form and the glass case into trillions of shards, the spiritual masses fused and spread throughout the universe.

Though Love did not start out in a way tradition would dictate, it prevailed through no small feat.


About jtkwriting

Writer living in Toronto. "Sneak out of your window darling, let's live like outlaws honey." View all posts by jtkwriting

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