Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

This is a one-shot submission for the 2nd annual Phantom Christmas One-Shot Contest as held by Not A Ghost3. This is my first time entering into a one-shot contest so I hope this goes well.

About the one-shot, I wanted to do something unique and playing around with the idea of young Erik is something not many people do. Usually its an older Erik, which will rip your hearts strings from their mooring quicker than anything but, still, young Erik deserves some attention too. Review and let me know what you think! This is my first time trying to write for him anyway.

sarahandmarquis

P.S

This is a repost because Child of Dreams brought to my attention I wrongly named Marie, Maria. Sorry about that. It is now fixed.

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I hate Christmas.

I hate everything that it means. The cold, the grief in my mother's eyes, the beatings - I hate it all. Marie is occasionally kind to me, giving me a book to read or listening to my music while my mother sits down by the fire and weeps.

Marie told me one Christmas after Mother beat me for asking to come down stairs that my father died around Christmas time. As if that would explain my mother's treatment of me. Marie tells me she would stay longer, even share Christmas with us, but her family wants her there with them.

Family.

It must be nice to have a family. I've heard that families love each other. Love sounds so nice. I wish I knew what it was like to love someone. I love Sasha, but she is a dog. I would think love between related humans would be different, more fulfilling.

Maybe it is just wishful thinking.

I hear shouting from below my attic bedroom. It sounds like Marie and Mother, arguing. They do that a lot now, as I am older and Marie wants me to see the world outside. I've never told her that I rome at night, sometimes so far away I don't return until midday. Mother never fails to not notice my absence.

Sometimes I wonder if she sees but is grateful I am gone.

They are discussing me. The lock my mother installed is insanely easy to pick, and I am soon free of my room to find out what they are talking about. I have mapped the entire house and know every single creaky board in every room so I sneak silently to the edge of the bandistor and listen to the conversation.

Marie wants to take me away from the house for the evening to go to Christmas with her family.

What is her family like?

Are they nice people? Will they laugh at my mask and lanky figure? I am big for a boy of ten. I don't know how to interact. Her family will hate me. Marie, why are you doing this?

Mother is angry about it, but Marie is insistent. She informs my mother that she will not change her mind and comes to find me.

Shocked though to see me there, she asks me if I wanted to go.

I honestly don't know.

My silence is enough to alert her to my wavering.

She promises good food, gifts, and an audience for my music. They want to hear me play.

The lure of music is more than enough for me to take her hand and follow her out the door like a willing dog. Mother doesn't like my music in the house. She says it's the devil's songs. Father Mansart lets me play on the church organ but only when nothing is happening, and I can slip out. Those times are never enough.

Once in the cart, I ask again if she really means what she said. She assures me that yes, she does. I ask if they know about the monster. She assures me they know something of it. I ask if they will be kind to me. She assures me they will treat me like a normal boy.

But, how is a normal boy treated? Are people kind to normal boys? And, most importantly, how do they treat normal boys on Christmas?

Will her family do the same?

We soon arrive at her house. Lively music comes from within. Candles fill every window with light. A few men step out onto the front porch, wine glasses in their hands. They talk among each other until the cart comes to a complete stop in front of the house.

One bounds down the steps to take the horse's reins.

He greets her joyfully, welcoming her with a hug and light kiss on the cheek. My face burns with jealousy. A kiss, that's what normal people recieved. She goes on talking as if nothing important has happened.

I am introduced, and he tries to shake my hand. I hide behind Marie as best as I can. Both laugh off my awkwardness, and the man mentions several food stuffs.

What are these things that he is talking about? I have no idea if they are good or not. Mother isn't much for cooking lavish meals, and, if she had cooked anything nice, her monster wouldn't have received a morsel.

As we walk into the house, I ask about it. Marie explains what they are. They sound delicious. Also, she tells me about the family visiting - several uncles, some aunts, three sisters, and two brothers along with wives and husbands as well as all the children that come with those families.

Marie guides me through the house quickly. We soon reach the kitchen where we are greeted by a shortish woman, slaving over an oven from where lovely smells come. Marie greets her warmly, and I conclude this is her mother. The two share very little resemblance, mostly that Marie is taller.

I stand awkwardly in the door while they talk and embrace. Again, I am jealous of that familial love and kindness shared in this family. Her mother tries to speak with me, even smiles at me, but I draw away. I can tell the woman is slightly hurt by my actions. I feel instant guilt, but I have no time to apologize as her mother talks about music and asks if I want to play for everyone before dinner.

I nod. An escape, relief. I will find time to apologize another time.

Marie shows me to the piano, and I sit, testing the keys for tonal quality. It is in tip-top shape. Marie mentions her brother likes to keep it in tune.

She leaves, and I begin to play a piece I had been working on earlier in the day. It is not complete, but the music is pretty and calms me as I slip into that other world of music. Oddly enough, the decorations put me in a festive mood, and I play a few songs I thought would suit the pleasantness of the house.

I can play by ear so a few bars from several carols slip into the mix.

After much playing, I pause to rest my fingers and hear a thunderous round of applause.

Spinning around, I see the entire family gathered in the small living room, inraptured in my music. A deep sense of pride overwhelms me, and I sit proud, grinning beneath the mask though they can't see it.

After a moment, we all enter the dining room. The children are sent with the nanny to dine in another room. Marie keeps me with her, aware I wouldn't do well with other children. For the meal, I sit in silence, watching and not eating much. The meal is difficult to eat with a mask, and I don't want to embarrass myself yet again.

The meal ends, but everyone remains, talking. Politics, the latest styles, gossip - all of it is thoroughly conversed. I begin to shift in my seat, uncomfortable and beginning to oddly crave the loneliness I had become so accustomed to.

Marie notices and suggests we go into the living room to open presents. I follow the laughing party into the room and sit down in a corner, next to Marie.

Presents.

What an odd concept, giving someone something just because of a day. Marie has given me the only gifts that I have received in my life: a few books I devoured immediately.

I secretly wonder, as I stare at the large bundle of gifts beneath the tree if there is something there for me. But, I know there isn't. I am not part of this family, as sweet and wonderful as they are. I am just a strange monster a relative thought it would be amusing to drag to the festivities. There will be no presents for me this night.

The other children soon arrive and nearly tear into their presents, exclaiming happily over things. Several are visibly disappointed, but I see nothing wrong with their gifts. They are beautiful things, signs of love from their parents and relatives. Why are they picky?

I shift closer to Marie and want to cry from frustration. Why couldn't I have been born in this family? Why did it have to be these ungrateful children who received the loving family? I would give anything to have half of what they have. But, no, monsters are not so fortunate in their lives.

When the children are finally shuffled off to bed, the adults begin gift exchanges. This time is far more pleasant and practical but still painful to watch. I am crying by now, silent tears that not even Marie could know about. The mask keeps everything hidden, and I'm happy for that. I don't want to ruin this for them.

I suppose I could consider their tolerance gift enough. The warm fire was nice, a gift I shall treasure. The food was good, another present I will hold dear.

I have received gifts aplenty.

A monster shouldn't be greedy.

After a while, the adults are done, and Marie's mother calls her over to speak with her. I curl in on myself, feeling very alone among all these people who I don't know. Several, if they look at me, smile a bit, but I keep my eyes down.

Then, Marie returns, a smile glowing on her face. She kneels in front of me and takes my skeleton hands in her warm ones.

"Erik," she asks, "would you like to be a part of this family?"

I stare at her, confused, bewildered. How can I be a part of her family? I wasn't born into it. They had the excellent luck of not having me in their bloodlines. I can't be a part of this family. I speak me thoughts out loud.

Marie shakes her head and clarifies,

"We'd like to adopt you. Mère and Père are coming to live me, and we want you to live with us." I look about at the expectant eyes before returning my gaze to Marie's.

"Would there be any more beatings?" I quietly ask. Her mother looks horrified as my question, but Marie only smiles sadly.

"There will be no more beatings, Erik. You'll be my son, loved and cherished. How would you like a loving family for Christmas?"

I begin to cry harder before flinging my arms around Marie's neck and sobbing into it. She knows I cannot speak and merely pats my back. I try to gather my thoughts and emotions long enough to nod vigorously.

A family for Christmas - this is the best gift!