Charlie's First Christmas
Isabel Fontes
My name is Charlie and, until today, I thought I knew every corner of the house. Every cushion, every shadow, every place where I could sleep without being disturbed. But that morning, something strange started to happen.
My humans were rushing about in a very odd way. The first thing I noticed was that they began moving my toys from the place where they usually lived. My blue ball, my felt mouse, even the box where I slept in the sun… everything disappeared, as if someone had decided to reorganize my world without asking for my opinion.
Suspicious. Very suspicious.
Suddenly, they brought in a giant green object, full of branches. I had never seen anything like it. It didn’t look like the plants on the windowsill — the ones I sometimes nibble when no one is watching. This object was something else entirely.
It looked like something out of the Birdies I see on the screen — those colorful flyers I try to catch with my paw.
Are they coming for this? Are they really arriving today?
Better stay here and keep watch… today I will resist sleep, no matter what.
I approached slowly, sniffed from the side, circled it, and gave the branches a few taps with my paw just to test them. Then I thought:
— This is enormous… is it for me to climb? Is it a new toy?
But when I tried to jump onto the television to see the top, I realized there wasn’t a safe place to land. It was too tall, too unpredictable, and certainly did not have my feline approval.
My humans kept repeating:
— Charlie, get down!
— Charlie, no!
— Charlie, stop that!
And I wasn’t even doing anything! Just investigating, as any responsible cat would. Mum laughed quietly, as if I were a funny little secret.
When I noticed things were getting serious, I hid behind the sofa — my official underground shelter. From there, eyes wide open, I watched the true confusion begin.
My humans started hanging shiny things on the green object. They looked like toys, but they wouldn’t let me touch them. Some looked like tiny fish. Others, round birds. And there were long colorful strings, like friendly snakes — those I really wanted to hunt.
I didn’t understand any of it.
Why were they decorating that thing and laughing so much?
And then it happened.
My human disappeared behind the green “monster” and clicked something — and the object lit up.
Suddenly it shone like a sun trapped inside one of the trees I see from the window.
Everything came alive within the green that seemed to breathe, and the walls filled with tiny stars.
I froze.
Not even my whiskers moved.
That enormous, strange, frightening object… was alive.
I came out slowly from behind the sofa and approached, very quietly. I sat in front of the warm light, felt the heat on my ears, and realized something I hadn’t known before:
I think that thing was… beautiful.
Very beautiful.
My humans looked at me, smiling.
— It seems Charlie has discovered the Christmas spirit, Mum said.
The lights flickered and I looked up.
Oh… look, one of the flyers at the top!!
— No, Charlie! — Mum said.
Isabel Fontes
Isabel Fontes was born in Lisbon and lives between Cardiff and London. Her work has been published across Portugal, Brazil, Spain, and the UK. She co-created Jazz’n’Poesia, hosted literary sessions in libraries, and developed cultural television programs. Her writing is intimate, restless & attentive to the ephemeral.