Christmas Reflections from the Spiritual Misfits
By: Sharon Ferrell, December 2005
Beta readers: SLWatson, Spitfire, and Tsunami-Ryuu

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It was another dreary winter afternoon. Snow lazily sailed down from the sky, drifting aimlessly through the air for some time before actually hitting the ground. It had been snowing all day in the mountain home of the puma-gryphon Dakota, a creature who right now didn’t feel inclined to do anything other than stare out the kitchen window as the snow accumulated on the ground. It was a week or so before Christmas and he didn’t have any work at the moment, so he was left to his own devices for entertainment.

Unfortunately, that meant he had time to think for himself and start dwelling, a habit of his that wasn’t good for him. Soon it would be nearing the anniversary of his mate Lindsay’s death, so it was easy to forget about all the joy that Christmas brought for him. He often looked too far in the future when he should have been living one day at a time.

Dakota was so absorbed in his silent soliloquy that he didn’t hear the telltale whir of mechanical wings. Without warning, a snowball pelted him on the side of his face. “Yearg!” he shrieked, shocked, but when he looked up, he just caught a glimpse of Lillian, his camerabot creation, zipping out of the room. “Lillian!” he bellowed, as he got up and followed after her.

He chased after her towards the front door and skidded to a stop when he saw that the door was closed.  As he reached out a foreclaw to open it, the door swung open and he was again met with a snowball to the face. He shook the snow out of his eyes, but it was too late; Lillian had slipped out of sight once more. He plodded through the open door and into the snow, his paws freezing. Sitting up, he took a lump of snow in his claws and started packing it into a ball. “Oh, Lillian,” he called sneakily. “Where are you? I have an early Christmas present!”

“Nice try,” a voice came from above him, and as he looked up, another ball of snow fell into his face. Shaking it away, he saw Lillian perched up on the roof. He weakly tried to lob the snowball he still held in his foreclaw up at her, but its ascension was so slow she was able to dodge it with seconds to spare. Lillian took to the air and tackled him, driving them both into the snow.

“Lillian, what are you doing?” Dakota demanded, rolling over as snow fell out of his feathers and fur in clumps.

“I’m just having a little fun, Dakota,” Lillian said innocently. “It gets boring around the house when all you do is sit around and mope.”

Dakota grumbled, then leaned over and took a clawful of snow. Before she could react, he shoved it in her face. “I let you mope all the time, I’d suspect you’d let me have the same privilege.”

Lillian spat the snow out of her beak. “C’mon, Dakota, it’s going to be Christmas! What’s wrong?”

“Have you ever heard of a little thing called ‘holiday depression’?” Dakota asked.

“Well, sure, but what do you have to depressed about?”

He sighed, feeling a bit exasperated. “Well, winter is just a hard time for me, really…it just brings up a lot of bad memories.”

“Ah…” Lillian said, taking in the apparent meaning. Although she wasn’t sure of the specifics, she always knew that “bad memories” usually meant things about Lindsay. She looked down, playing with her stubby metal fingers. “Is there anything I can do?”

He sneered. “You can stop pelting me snow, for starters,” he said.

“Oh, fine,” Lillian griped. She hovered backwards off of him and went back inside the house, Dakota following close behind. She wandered aimlessly for a moment until she realized he was following her, then whirled around to face him. “Are you just going to follow me around everywhere?”

Dakota shrugged limply. “Until you rest somewhere, yeah.”

Lillian sighed, then sat in front of the roaring fireplace so Dakota could dry the snow still left in his fur. He sat in front of her, staring at the fireplace in silence, as Lillian stared at him with concern. She did her best to try to keep him happy, but at times like these she felt she was but a second-rate replacement vainly trying to fill the gap that Lindsay left. “Christmas must be hard for you now that she’s gone,” she stated quietly after a moment.

Dakota stared down at her, shocked, knowing exactly whom she was referring to. Sighing, he hugged himself trying to get warm. “Of course it is. This season is supposed to make people so happy, y’know, but I always have the anniversary of her death hanging over my head, so all I can think about is what this Christmas would be like with her around. I mean…it still hurts. I never got over her, y’know?” He cocked his head to the side. “I never have a good holiday season anymore, but then again, who does? The holidays make everyone feel like crap.”

“That’s because the holidays glorify the bond between normal, functioning families, when in reality there is very little that resembles that in the world,” Lillian replied wickedly…and accurately. “Not that we’re ones to talk. Look at our family,” she added ruefully.

“I’d rather have you instead of some of the in-laws that other people have,” Dakota said, allowing himself a slight smirk. “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if Lindsay never died…and we would’ve had our own little family. But I’m not sure if you would’ve came into being if Lindsay never died…but heck, I want to have my cake and eat it too, what can I say?” He laughed to himself. “It’s always a hoot to think of what could’ve been…but what’s the point? We’ll never find out for sure what could’ve been; it’s no use dwelling on it, really.”

Not being able to think of a response to that, Lillian just sat in silence, trying to think of a proper conversational tangent. “It’s funny what the holidays can do to some people,” she said finally. “What’s supposed to be a time of happiness is turned into the most stressful, most commercialized time of the year. But at least that way I can celebrate it.”

Dakota cocked his head at her. “What do you mean?

“Dakota, Christmas is supposed to be a spiritual holiday, and I’m a robot. People would think it’s a blasphemy if I participate in the more spiritual traditions of the holiday” Lillian said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, I didn’t even know Christmas was a religious holiday before someone told me.”

“That’s okay. Most religious zealots think magic is a blasphemy. In fact, some people compared gryphons to the Devil. It doesn’t stop me from believing there’s a God,” Dakota said, staring off into the distance, not really looking at her. “Don’t listen to the religious fanatics; they spend so much time picking apart religious texts looking for people or things to hate and forget that religion is supposed to be about love.”

“So all that bull about love during Christmas isn’t just pulled out of nowhere?”

Dakota laughed. “Well…Christmas is more or less a celebration of the greatest love of all. I never thought about it that way, but that’s the most reassuring theory behind the modern Christmas I’ve heard yet.”

“Now if only that explained Christmas trees,” Lillian said, parting her beak in a smirk. They both looked at each other in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

“Lillian?” Dakota asked, leveling her with a solemn gaze.

The blue camerabot snapped back into the real world and returned his gaze. “Yes?”

“You never did tell me what you want for Christmas.”

Lillian’s beak gaped in an even wider grin and laughed. “I want revenge on whoever said robots can’t make art!”

Dakota stared her. “Oh, I don’t know…”

“Fine,” she pouted, thinking. “How about some photos of Santa to send to the Enquirer to prove he really exists?”

“You’re the computer imaging genius, you can make up some photos yourself,” he countered. “Now really. How about something I can actually get?”

“I don’t know!” Lillian cried. “This is our first Christmas together, all I know is that I’m happy to be with you!”

Dakota’s face went mushy and he leaned down and hugged his creation. Like her, he couldn’t think of a better Christmas present than to be able revel in each other’s company.

the end