Writing for Fun
December 2017
Mistletoe - Maureen Rampersaud
Muttering and grumbling, Mark stomped through the forest, kicking leaves and swiping trees with a stick. He detested his annual task of finding mistletoe for their Christmas party for the neighbours. Last year, he’d witnessed the embarrassing scene of his mum and dad slobbering over each other under an unexpectedly large bunch that he’d managed to find. He certainly didn’t want a repeat of that disgusting sight this year. Maybe he could pretend that he couldn’t find any...but Dad had promised him that he could go to Jennifer’s party if he was successful. He desperately wanted to go. Why couldn’t they just go out and buy mistletoe like everyone else?
‘It’s especially lucky if you cut it down yourself’, Mum told him, all misty-eyed, as if she was some old Druid or something.
‘Not if I fall out of the tree to get it’, he’d fired back at her.
She tittered as if it was some great joke.
By the time he realized that the raised tree root was there, hidden under the leaves, he was hurtling towards the forest floor. He opened his eyes. Looking up, the tree canopy was decked out as a huge pair of silver curtains, which parted, displaying a scene from his past. Dad and Mum were either side of him counting one, two, three or whooshing up into the fusty, forest air. He was helpless with laughter, shouting, ‘Again!’, then Dad scrambled up an oak tree, returning, triumphantly, with a bunch of mistletoe. They all laughed and hugged each other. As the curtains closed, Mark was left with a residual warm feeling inside.
The curtains opened again, revealing Jennifer’s party in full swing. He guessed it was in the future as he, himself appeared beside Jennifer. He produced a sprig of mistletoe from his pocket, much to Jennifer’s delight...then it all went black.
Mark awoke and jumped up, rubbing his sore head. He had only one thought . . . he must find some mistletoe! Just then a mistle thrush appeared, Mark followed it to a familiar, old oak tree. Yes, it was the same one that Dad had scaled all those years ago. Much to the bird’s consternation, Mark climbed the tree and cut down a large bunch of mistletoe.
‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured the bird, ‘I’ve left plenty for your supper!’
Before he reached home, Mark put a small sprig in his pocket. He returned from his trip full of Christmas cheer and hope in his heart.