The Christmas Creep part 2

or the reframing of an old favourite

The Hoffman family lived in a large Colonial style home in the Boston suburbs. For as long as the children could remember there was a ‘Trim the Tree’ party on Christmas Eve. Their parents, some of their friends, uncles and aunts would gather for a meal in the dining room while the children were banished upstairs under the watchful eye of their nanny. As a special treat they were allowed to stay up to play games and were given plates of sandwiches, sausage rolls and bowls of crisps to eat. Clara and Frankie longed to be able to join the adults and eavesdrop on their conversations rather than have to play with their two younger cousins, but no amount of pleading would change their parents’ plans. This was the way it had always been. But when the feasting was done and tree was decorated the children were all called down to join the adults in the entrance hall, where they were each allowed to add a bauble to the lower branches, and it was then that the gifts from those present were distributed.

This year Clara felt an additional thrill of anticipation as she descended the sweeping staircase. Snow had started falling earlier in the day and their street was already coated in a thick white blanket. The tree dominated the room standing at least eight feet tall and was decked from top to bottom with shining baubles, hundreds of lights and garlands of tinsel, as magical as ever. There were baskets full of sweet treats placed around the room; rich chocolates dusted with cocoa, fragrant cubes of Turkish delight, peppermint candy canes, gingerbread men and Clara’s favourite, little pink and white sugar mice. But it wasn’t only the snow, the tree and the sweets that Clara was excited to see, and she scanned the faces of the adults looking for old uncle Drosselmeyer. She spotted him at once, bent and wizened wearing a red embroidered waistcoat and a matching bow tie topped with his usual black cloak. Most of the children in the neighbourhood were frightened of Drosselmeyer and liked to tell stories about how he was an evil magician who could turn children into frogs, but Clara loved him and especially loved to hear his stories about Christmases long ago when he was a boy growing up in Germany. He was a watch and clockmaker who also made wonderful clockwork toys and every Christmas he would bring special homemade gifts for Clara, Frankie and their cousins. It was Drosselmeyer who had made the grandfather clock that stood in the hallway with its ornately carved owl that sat on top. This year he brought them four beautifully carved and hand painted dolls. Clara was thrilled but Frankie found it hard to conceal his disgust at being given a doll.

“I’m too big to play with dolls. He’s just a stupid old man. He’s a creep… a Christmas Creep, always hanging around at Christmas time!”

“Frankie, don’t be so mean, he’ll hear you. He’s a kind old man”

Soon the clock struck eight and the wise owl blinked eight times which was the signal for the adults to leave. As they said their goodbyes, Drosselmeyer beckoned over to Clara and handed her another parcel.

“This one is just for you, Mein Süßer.”

Clara peeled away the paper to reveal another doll. This time it was a carved wooden soldier, painted with a blue coat and red breeches. On his oversized head was a soldier’s hat and on his feet he wore shiny black boots with golden tassels. But he had strange large jaws.

“He is a nutcracker. You place a nut inside his mouth and press hard and then the shell will crack away to reveal the nut.”

He then demonstrated by placing a hazelnut inside the Nutcracker’s jaws, pressed and out popped a perfectly shelled nut. Clara was delighted.

“Thank you Uncle Drosselmeyer. I think he is wonderful”

“Be sure to take care of him. Auf Wiedersehen mein Liebling”

And with those words he left.

As the door closed on the last guests, Mr and Mrs Hoffman told Clara and Frankie they had half an hour to play with their new dolls before bedtime, when it would then be time to go straight to bed and sleep, no stories tonight. Frankie didn’t want to play with dolls and thought he would rather have a story, but he was intrigued to see what had been inside Clara’s special parcel. She showed her brother how the Nutcracker worked, and he asked if he could try it. With reluctance she handed over her treasured doll and Frankie placed a large Brazil nut inside the Nutcracker’s jaws and squeezed it hard. There was a cracking sound but not of shell breaking, instead the Nutcracker’s jaws fell open split by the hard shell that remained intact.

“You have broken him” Clara cried, but Frankie was unrepentant.

“It was just a stupid doll made by that stupid Christmas Creep. Get over it.” And he stomped off to bed.

Clara lay awake for hours that night feeling sad about her Nutcracker doll, thinking about the hours uncle Drosselmeyer had spent carving and painting him. Eventually, unable to sleep she crept out of bed and went downstairs. The house was silent apart from the ticking of the grandfather clock. She tiptoed over to the Christmas tree and picked up the broken Nutcracker from where she had left him beneath the branches. At that moment the clock started to strike the hour of midnight and on each chime Clara watched in astonishment at the scene that was unfolding before her. As she looked up to the clock she no longer saw the owl but there was uncle Drosselmeyer perched atop of the clock face and her beloved Nutcracker had grown to life-size. All around her the room was filling with oversized mice led by a fearsome Mouse King with seven heads each wearing a golden crown. And on each head there were beady little red eyes and rows of needle like fangs.

The room became a battleground with the Mouse King leading his mice against the Nutcracker and an army of tin soldiers and gingerbread men. At the point where the Mouse King was about to attack the wounded Nutcracker, Clara took off her slipper and flung it at the monstrous rodent, distracting him so that the Nutcracker regained his balance and fatally stabbed the evil Mouse King. Almost instantly the mice retreated and when she looked up Clara saw that the Nutcracker had changed into a prince. Gradually the hallway opened up and the walls collapsed revealing a moonlit forest of snow-capped trees.

Taking her by the hand the prince led Clara through the forest and the gently falling snow back to his kingdom, The Land of Sweets which had been ruled by the Sugar Plum Fairy while the prince was away. The prince told everyone how Clara saved him from the Mouse King who had finally been defeated and in her honour he ordered a celebration of sweets from around the world. There was music, singing and dancing and a parade of every type of sweet, confection or treat Clara could imagine. There was marzipan, candy canes, toffees, marshmallows and lemon sherbets followed by gingerbread and chocolate. Eventually once the music and dancing stopped, the prince took Clara onto a golden sleigh pulled by reindeer and they waved goodbye to all the sweets before making their way back to Clara’s home.

Clara woke abruptly to Frankie shaking her arm.

“Wake up, wake up! It’s Christmas morning. What are you doing sleeping under the tree?”

Slowly Clara sat up, rubbed her eyes and looked around remembering the battle, the forest and the land of sweets. As she thought about the handsome young prince she looked down and saw the Nutcracker, no longer a prince but no longer broken either. He was perfect just as when uncle Drosselmeyer had given him to her. She looked up to check for uncle Drosselmeyer on the grandfather clock but once more the owl was back in place. The owl winked at Clara and she knew that what had happened was more than just a dream. She had experienced the magic of Christmas with her favourite uncle Drosselmeyer, a magician maybe, but never a creep.

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The original story of The Nutcracker and the Mouse King was written by the German gothic author E.T.A. Hoffman in 1816 and tells the story of a girl who befriends a nutcracker that comes to life on Christmas Eve. He wages battle against an evil mouse king, and in the tradition of German fairy tales it is a far darker and more troublesome story than the version we are more familiar with. The choreographer Marius Petipa chose a lighter adaptation for his stage version of the Nutcracker that was a retelling by the French novelist Alexandre Dumas, of Three Musketeer fame. It is this ballet version with its score by Tchaikovsky that is loved by so many at this time of year.

I hope you will forgive my own retelling as well as my rather crackly voiceover... my first attempt at recording my words. I had toyed with several ideas for a ‘Christmas Creep’ short story but every single one ended up far too dark and terrifying to present a couple of days before Christmas and any attempt on my part to give a happy ending just felt rather cloying and fake. Maybe I’ll rehash them for another time but not now.

Just when I started to think there wouldn’t be a post from me this week I heard a radio programme about window dressing, in particular about a gift shop in Chorlton, Manchester called the Curious Fox. The owner plans his Christmas windows at the start of the year and begins hand making all the items for his display in the summer. (Now starting that early really is Christmas Creep!) Each window is pure theatre and a stunning work of art. Listening to the programme I was reminded how it was once a schoolgirl ambition of mine to be a window dresser for the likes of the big London department stores like Selfridges or maybe even Liberty. I had no idea how one set about becoming a window dresser so that idea fell by the wayside but the thrill of constructing a scene to make a display has never left me, which is probably why I ended up getting involved with amateur dramatics through set building and costume design. Of course I don’t have a shop window in which to build an elaborate scene, but I do have a front door and in the absence of any wreath making going on here this year, I decided to create something different to adorn our entrance which is how I ended up with a life-sized Nutcracker.

One thing led to another and hence you have my retelling of this famous Christmas story. I should perhaps add that when we lived in Boston Massachusetts back in the early 1980s we attended a ‘Trim the Tree’ party as described. We all wore evening dress and had a formal dinner before helping to decorate the eight foot tree that stood in the entrance hall to our host’s beautiful home, while their children played upstairs looked after by their nanny. It felt like a very different world to the one I had grown up in but quite magical all the same.

I would like to finish by wishing you a very happy Christmas however you might celebrate and as I will be taking a break next week, I’m sending good wishes your way for a happy and peaceful start to 2025. Thank you all so much for sticking with me on my writing adventure this year and I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.