He woke up to a blur of lights and snow.
A shudder thundered through his body, making him conscious of the stark cold that had his limbs unmoving. A slight move of his hands, the ache settled in his articulations, the heavy blanket of snow burying him several feet under. He was freezing, even though he wore numerous layers of cloth.
He almost fell back into that deep sleep that had put him under for- He's not sure of how long. His mind still wandered in a dazed state, turning his surroundings slow, allowing him no place to comprehend what he was seeing. The dark sky, a distortioned symphony of hooting owls, the blinding lights, red, blue, green -make them stop- and the cumbersome scratching that he just couldn't fathom where it could be coming from.
Scrape, scrape, scrape.
Although it sounded more like shoveling, perhaps-
"Here we are as in olden days.
Happy golden days of yore."
Stephen blinked slowly, heaving a shuddering breath that had his lungs screaming. He couldn't bare the cold anymore. So he made a second attempt on his hands, only managing to barely lift the layer of snow tucking him in. Searing hot, even painful at a certain degree.
The scraping got louder, and it wasn't until a fresh layer of snow showered over his face that he found its origin. Or more particularly, them.
He could only watch silently, as the small figure came to view, hunched over a shovel taller than them, lifting it despite the obvious heaviness of it. Reddened cheeks, and a dreamy smile, childhood in all its glory, an untainted innocence that had a never ending curiosity to discover the world. It was the hope that there was good everywhere and everyone could get along.
An unconscious protection against the dumb disputes adults dwelled into.
And at a season like that, the happiness stood out more than ever, with Christmas songs that everyone knew by heart, the expectation of presents and the guilty indulgence in candy and treats that matched Halloween, the difference standing on the theme and overal flavours of the treats.
A child could be more understanding on certain topics truly.
Take dealing with a man buried under snow as an example.
"Faithful friends who are dear to us
They gather near to us once more."
The child, unaware of his awakening kept singing the joys of his heart, the almost shy verses fleeting away with the wind to join the peaceful night.
Until he stopped at a close proximity and reacted upon the eyes staring up at him.
With a quite horrified scream.
He should've expected the shovel that clashed against his jaw.
When he awakened for a second time, there was no peace, and the loud static morphed into incessant rambling.
"-so sorry Sir! You can wake up now. Are you dead? Please don't be dead, I didn't want to kill anyone!"
The next thing he noticed was the searing hot pain, patalizing, intensifying with every widening and narrowing of his mouth. The temptation of just laughing and groaning his pain out loudly was just so compeling, he just didn't know where to begin processing just how ridiculous the whole situation was.
He couldn't really blame the child though.
At least he had the freedom to bring his arms towards his chest. The space had been cleared up, and almost his whole body had been uncovered while he was unconscious. It still didn't make things better, the snow had seeped into his clothes, he was tired despite being in a comatose state for god knows how long and he had managed to scare the child that was taking the time to free him from his frozen prison.
"Could you tell me where I am?" He blurted, snow drifting in a downward waterfall when he took a sitting position. He was shaking like a leaf, and that seemed to trigger the motion of them wrapping a warm blanket around his upper body.
The child took a step aside, relief molding his expression that manifested in a fumble of his sweater. "Denver, Colorado."
A bit far from New York...
"What about the date?"
"Well duh... December 24. Christmas Eve." A scrunched up little nose and something akin to offense. Right. Kids adore the date like no other.
He pushed himself to stand, lead replacing bones, an inclination to go back to lay down despite the harsh bedding. It was to get a move if he wanted to get anywhere soon. But it was all fine, he just needed to look for his sling ring in his pocket and...
-realize that it's missing.
Splendid.
"Have you seen a ring around here, child?" He lowered his gaze until meeting up with the young one, hopeful that the nightmare would reach to a stop and he would be permitted a break from the disaster that was his life. There were things to sort, people to notify of his very liveliness and get a change of clothes so he can return to his duties in the mystical business.
The impulsity of the young mind, uncaring of the snow flying around, tiny fists digging through the numerous layers of snow to catch the culprit before straightening up and confirming his suspicion immediately.
"No ring. Why are you dressed like an old man?- How old are you?"
Strange had to pause, blinking slowly.
"I'm forty eight."
The child's eyes widened comically, putting to a laugh the cartoons that serve as entertainment on television.
"Wow, you are so old. Oh! Sorry." They covered their mouth, self punishing of words spoken without comprehending the meaning behind them.
"My mum told me it's not nice to call people old. You are very tall then. That's not offensive right?" They were at close proximity now, granting the sorcerer a perspective of height comparison. Short, minuscule being barely reaching his knees length.
It truly made him feel like a giant. And without doubt, the child thought the world to be a big place, with a distortion of surroundings to tower over them, an unexplored comprehension that the planet was smaller than one thought to conceive.
"You shouldn't be here. It's very cold." He took in his surroundings, a white canvas decorated with trees, shouldered with a snowy dream of snowballs and decorating ornaments. "Surely your mother wouldn't want you to get sick."
A small sleigh trekked around him, following the child in a mimicking trail. There was a second trail close by, growing fainter with every second standing there. Other than that, they were alone, with the wind whispering on their ears softly.
"Mum's not home. She works tonight. I wanted her to stay at home so we could open presents but she had to leave. I get unlimited hot cocoa though! Would you like some?"
Sometimes, the most persuading thing to see is the excitement and easily hurt feelings hiding behind wide eyes.
-
"I'm (Y/N), who are you? And... are you like an alien?" Perked up the question after a solid moment of silence. The popping of burning wood in the chimney, the fire harboured swaying back and forth to cast dark shadows on the wall, the lulling warmth of a freshly made of hot cocoa. It all lead him back to his earlier years, when times were easier, and his only worry lied within the mystery lying within decorating paper.
"Stephen Strange. And... No." He murmured into his cocoa, giving the child a pointed look. The sticky beverage swaddled his beard, simply wiped away with a motion of his hand.
"A god?"
"Gods wouldn't answer these type of questions."
"That's what a god would say."
The furrow of his brows made way to bemusement.
"I'm a master of the mystic arts." He shrugged. No one would believe them anyways. That was one problem with adulthood. The belief in the impossible, the fantastic and the infinity of worlds would narrow into a fuzzy memory. Deep down they would still believe as avidly as they did in their youth, but the disappointments of life and the fear of seeming out of their mind obligued them to surrender.
To join the rest.
"Like a wizard." They begun swinging their legs back and forth, craddling their own beverage with a shower of marshmallows floating around.
"A sorcerer." He corrected.
"What happened to your hands?" Innocent enough, but Strange found exhausting how children were able to observe any minuscule detail.
"Something... bad happened." He gritted softly. He still would feel pain, every morning. He would spend the rest of his life awakening with the memory of it, the ghost of his nerves, bringing back to life the sensation of being stabbed with a thousand shards. He couldn't fix it with medicine, it was a figment of his own cruel imagination, playing with his resolve, pushing him to his limits.
A phantom presence waiting every day to attack.
"It looks cool though. I like that... it looks like you are, I don't know- like- you know a very cool superhero or something that earned scars because they fought like- cool powers to defeat villains and yeah." (Y/N) struggled to explain their idea, but Stephen got the general intentions of it.
The sorcerer took a look around, the small, humble home, warm and welcoming without the need of any superfluous furnishing. It was the necessary to build up a home, but there were those small details that told small snippets of the lives that those people carried out.
The Christmas tree wasn't too big, medium, adorned with sparkling red spheres and a small string of lights that wrapped around it neatly.
The star on the top was nowhere to be seen.
And when he glanced back to look at the young child sitting on a too big couch for them, he saw that borderline between hopelessness and bubbly happiness.
The child clearly had not the best of lives, but they stuck through it with an undying curiosity and a motivation to keep going, to make others happy. Even what he did hours ago, freeing him from a frozen tomb and even going as far as to allow him entrance to his home despite not possessing a single clue of who he was in the world.
"Why isn't there a star on top of the tree?" He motioned to the tree sitting in between them.
(Y/N) shrugged in return, swinging their legs back and forth a bit quicker.
"Mum was supposed to help me put it up today but she had to go soon." They picked at a floating marshmallow, plucking it out of the hot beverage and eating it.
There was just something that didn't sit right with Stephen about the missing star. It might just be decorative, but it also meant a completion of the celebration. He wasn't sure if that was what they thought of it, perhaps they just wanted the tree to be fully set...
"Come on." He left his seat, placing a hand on the child's back to guide them out of their seat. "You can finish this later and-" The cup found its place by his own. "I'm going to help you put up the star."
The sorcerer lifted them up.
(Y/N) wriggled around in confusion. "But the star is on-"
"Just trust me." They closed up on the tree and he outstretched his arms to lift him up that missing gap. "Touch the top of the tree."
(Y/N) stared at him doubtfully, but followed his instructions, hesitantly, slowly reaching out a hand, outstretching a finger and...
Touching the tree...
It instantly came back to life, a swirl of bright orange sparks circling the tree from top to bottom, enhancing the ornaments with an extra glow. On the top, the string of magic begun knitting together in intricate pathways, promising a gift for the world to see.
In the end, a beautiful star sat on top, bringing the room to light with a wonderful glow.
And Stephen knew it was the right thing to do, because the child's eyes truly lit up with happiness for the first time in all that night, uncovering its true sentiment...
It was just a star, but such a simple notion could really make a child happy.
And that was the beauty of it, to be able to give someone so young the outermost perspective of the good in the world.
The child's giggles started filling the room.
"Merry Christmas wizard!"
Strange just smiled faintly.
Merry Christmas indeed.
-
So sorry for the tardiness. I was stuck up with family reunions and whatnot and just got to start writing these past couple of days.
Alas, I hope you enjoyed this piece, and have a Merry Christmas.
-Purple Trekkie
Photo edited by me.