Family Dinner

I could say spending Christmas with my family wasn't a bad idea comparing to spending it alone. I could say that but if only under other circumstances.

I thought it was a dream when my deceased mother visited me the night before, telling me they were coming. But that today, on Christmas day, they came, all twenty-two of them. My family. Of cause, I had expected more but it appears even the dead could still hate Christmas.

If I hasn't known they were dead, I would have thought they were as alive as I was. But two things immediately stood out. My great-great-Uncle Johnny's neck still have this red burnt where he was hung to death. The other one was my great-grandfather Sam, Mother's grandfather who looked like a corpse. He was always pale back then when he damaged his skin by volunteering to test products to pay for his education but now he was even paler than before and with his big, hallow eyes, he looked rather frightful.

It was nice to see my Dad again, with his still vibrant green eyes. I wrapped my arms around him but could not feel the warmth that I used to feel. But he was the same as before. He and mother still don't get along and I knew they have to be separated so I make myself promise to keep an eye out. They got divorced when I turned ten only after they both agreed that I can handle it.

When it was time to cook dinner, most of them offered to help. Each seemingly knew what needs to be done. The kitchen overflowed with friendly chatters and the scent of the faded Christmas dinners I used to love. But as with any family, fights broke out here and there. But mostly it was quiet conversation and smiles all around.

I watched in horror when my Aunt Sonia repeatedly cut her fingers off trying to dice some tomatoes. She, nonchalantly pressed them back on, picked up the knife and went back to chopping. I stopped looking her way after that.

I thought it would be nice to cook a few essentials even if I am the only one who could eat. I love smelling the turkey that mother always makes on Christmas instead of Thanksgiving. I remember Mother always gets her auburn hair dyed at the local beauty school even when it always ends up looking like the color of carrots. I followed her recipe but added my own touch. She was looking over my shoulder at every move that I made and each time she said nothing, just smiled now and then. I was grateful for that. We never did get along when it comes to cooking or Dad, or much of anything. But I guess she figured it was the last Christmas with me.

Towards night, when the food was all ready, we gathered around the dining table, arguing where to sit. I didn't want to say anything being the youngest. I always felt a bit childish even now. I sat near the front of the table where I always sat when I was young, right next to Dad with Mother on the other side. After a few fights and some very scary, let's called them, gestures, we sat down for a short silent prayer before eating.

Then came an unexpected sound, came breaking the silence. The doorbell. Who could it be? I knew for sure, I didn't invited anyone. I let it go the first time hoping whoever it was, is going to leave when I don't answer. But then it rang again. Someone was at the door and that someone couldn't possibly understand why my entire dead family is sitting at the dining table with me.

I looked around in panic. What should I do? I asked my mother. She raised her hands in the air, as if I should be the one answering that question. I turned to Dad but he just shakes his head and said, it's your house.

I took my time walking toward the front entrance, all the while looking back at my family whose eyes seem to be elsewhere. I was on my own.

I saw a shadow through the door's square glass pane. My hands shook as I turned the knob, my mind racing through all the faces that I knew but nothing pops out. I slowly opened the door. The moment I saw Charles standing there with a grin on his face, I immediately shut the door leaning my back against it.

I heard him called out, Marie, it's me Charles. Why aren't you letting me in? Then a pause. Then a bang. I try to think of some excuse for him to leave but my mind was as blank as a white sheet of paper.

He rang the doorbell again. I took in a deep breath, widen my lips into a smile and slowly opened the door as if I was doing it the first time. I acted surprised by his appearance. The wind was blowing hard and the bitter cold came rushing in as I held the door open. I saw the full moon and thought I saw a image of a wolf inside howling.

Charles kissed me and walked right in, carrying his large luggage before I could say anything. I quickly shut the door and rushed after him asking him why he wasn't at his mother's like he planned. His reply faded when he saw the table of food. My family has suspiciously disappeared. Charles turned to me in surprise.

What's with all those table settings? Are you expecting guests? And why did you cook all this? His brows rise like a set of rainbows and then fell into smiles as he sat himself in front of the turkey, picking the knife and fork. I uttered no reply, unable to think of anything to say. I sat myself down next to him. He didn't seem to noticed.

As Charles started to slice the turkey, a gasp rang softly in the air. Charles looked at me. I smiled at him as if I heard nothing. But the gasp became louder as Charles started again to cut the turkey. Just when I thought it was alright, a loud banging sound came from the kitchen, almost like a pool of pans falling from the cupboard.

Charles immediately stood up and went straight to the kitchen. I went after him. And there they stood, my family and Charles. For a moment, all was still. No one was moving as if we were all frozen. Then Charles introduced himself, so casually. My family gathered around him, each taking turns shaking his hand.

Sitting down again for dinner, all of us and Charles, I wondered how long it will take for Charles to figure out what they are. None of them was eating and yet Charles seem not to be affected by this. He let my Dad cut the turkey and even as I tried to taste my dinner, the panic sitting in my stomach, now has reached my chest.

But I was worrying for no reason. Everyone seem to be enjoying themselves including Charles. The conversation often turned to Charles and what his plans were. One of them which I had wished he wouldn't mention was marrying me. The wedding was a few months away. It's not that I don't want my family to know, it's just that I'm afraid they might invite themselves to come to the wedding.

Charles sat there on the old living room sofa after dinner and chatted with my Dad, Mother and the rest of my family and not once did he seem scare or surprise. He seem quite at ease in any discussion and any questions my parents fired at him, he was able to answer without even wasting time to think. There were no exchange of presents as I didn't even think they were coming. Charles brought me my Christmas present but I told him I would rather open it later. I hugged and kissed him but felt a bit strange in front of my family.

When the clock strikes midnight, I knew something was going to happen. Something that might just make Charles run. But he didn't run.

I tried to be casual but my brain refused to accept this as normal. I knew Charles noticed Uncle Johnny's neck and my Aunt Sonia's fingers falling off now and then. How about my sickly looking grandfather's hallow eyes looking straight at him as Charles was speaking? How could he not? How could anyone ignore such things?

We listened to the clock as it finally hit its last note. My family was about to leave. I felt a sadness I never felt before. My tears surprised me as I hugged each of them. My Dad especially held me the longest. They didn't leave through the front door. Rather they faded away like a mirage. One after the other while Charles watched, a small smile on his lips.

Dad was the last to leave. He told Charles to take care of me and threaten to haunt Charles if he doesn't. This surprised Charles a little. He promised and shook my Dad's hand. I smiled through my tears, wiping them but they kept falling. Strange, but it was the best Christmas that I have ever known.

Just before bedtime, Charles told me he was scare to death at first when he realized what my family were but right after he kissed me good night, he said, at least he won't have to see them every day. I smiled and said nothing to Charles as he held me in his arms. I fell asleep dreaming about seeing them at my wedding.


Cafe writing: Option Three: Fiction: Write a flash-fic, scene, or short story involving a night when the moon is howling.

3WW: Corpse, Damage, Knife