Santa, and then I talked about the other exciting attractions here in Solsticeland, urging all my new friends not to go home without seeing these wonders.
While chattering away, I saw Twinkle trying to make his way through the crowd, somewhat hampered by his accordion. Glancing in the other direction, I noticed a couple of security guards hovering just beyond the gathered crowd. They were speaking with an authoritative-looking woman who seemed to be all business. The guards were an unusual sight on this floor, in my experience, so I wondered if Jonathan’s mother had filed a complaint about this morning.
Coming to the end of my spiel about the multicultural exhibits here in Solsticeland, I turned back to my arboreal companion and suggested we give these nice people one last song.
The tree did not respond. It sat there, silent and inert. I wondered if I had unwittingly rushed through my speech and finished too early. I ad-libbed a little, to fill the silence. Still no response from the tree.
“Oh, dear,” I said to the crowd. “My friend may have fallen asleep while I was talking!”
Some of them chuckled at that. I was wondering by now if the tree’s complex mechanism had broken down. If the thing had stopped working, I’d have to wrap up the performance without it. I glanced around and saw that Twinkle was still within sight, the density of the crowd ensuring that his progress remained slow.
I gave the tree an admonishing poke as I said loudly, “If you won’t sing another song with me, then I’ll just ask my friend Twinkle to play something for me!”
And that was when all hell broke loose.
The tree came to sudden, menacing life. Its eyes glowed red, its knobbly face contorted into a snarl, and it
growled
at me. Startled, I gasped and fell back a step. I heard some of the crowd laughing, assuming that this was part of the show. The Enchanted Forest was, after all, a deliberately spooky setting where, as the tree had already said,
anything
could happen.
And that certainly seemed to be true as the tree’s glowing eyes focused on me while it whispered in a harsh croak, “Kill . . . kill . . .
kill you.”
6
I choked out a scream and staggered backward. We were
way
off script now.
A big, solid tree branch hit me hard from behind, knocking the wind out of me and sending me sprawling forward into the tree’s face. The branch was one of the mechanical arms which were programmed to wave and bounce in time to the Christmas carols that the tree sang. It swiftly wrapped around me and held me pressed up against the horrifyingly animated trunk, which snickered at me as I was shoved against it.
The blow had stunned me, but I was so frightened that adrenaline flooded my system, working wonders. I quickly regained my senses, took a noisy gulp of air, and started screaming my head off.
This set off a chain reaction of gasping and shrieking among the gathered crowd, who by now realized something was wrong.
The tree’s mouth, already stretched in a vicious snarl, sprouted long yellow fangs. I didn’t want to find out if they were as sharp as they looked, so I struggled with all my might against the dense synthetic branch that was trying to force me closer to that mouth.
“No, no, noooo!”
I was screaming.
“Dreidel!” Twinkle shouted.
“Dreidel!”
I heard the mad, musical screech of his accordion as he wrestled his way through the crowd, hollering frantically for maintenance, for help, for security, for
someone!
With my arms trapped by the encircling branch, I lifted my feet and braced them against the tree trunk, fighting the mechanical branch’s effort to drag me closer to the snarling, fanged mouth. I was panting hard with fear and exertion, struggling for air as the thick, twining branch tightened around me like a python, bruising my arms and squeezing breath from my body.
Some shoppers grabbed frantically at the branch and tugged on it, trying to release me. Another animated branch swooped
While chattering away, I saw Twinkle trying to make his way through the crowd, somewhat hampered by his accordion. Glancing in the other direction, I noticed a couple of security guards hovering just beyond the gathered crowd. They were speaking with an authoritative-looking woman who seemed to be all business. The guards were an unusual sight on this floor, in my experience, so I wondered if Jonathan’s mother had filed a complaint about this morning.
Coming to the end of my spiel about the multicultural exhibits here in Solsticeland, I turned back to my arboreal companion and suggested we give these nice people one last song.
The tree did not respond. It sat there, silent and inert. I wondered if I had unwittingly rushed through my speech and finished too early. I ad-libbed a little, to fill the silence. Still no response from the tree.
“Oh, dear,” I said to the crowd. “My friend may have fallen asleep while I was talking!”
Some of them chuckled at that. I was wondering by now if the tree’s complex mechanism had broken down. If the thing had stopped working, I’d have to wrap up the performance without it. I glanced around and saw that Twinkle was still within sight, the density of the crowd ensuring that his progress remained slow.
I gave the tree an admonishing poke as I said loudly, “If you won’t sing another song with me, then I’ll just ask my friend Twinkle to play something for me!”
And that was when all hell broke loose.
The tree came to sudden, menacing life. Its eyes glowed red, its knobbly face contorted into a snarl, and it
growled
at me. Startled, I gasped and fell back a step. I heard some of the crowd laughing, assuming that this was part of the show. The Enchanted Forest was, after all, a deliberately spooky setting where, as the tree had already said,
anything
could happen.
And that certainly seemed to be true as the tree’s glowing eyes focused on me while it whispered in a harsh croak, “Kill . . . kill . . .
kill you.”
6
I choked out a scream and staggered backward. We were
way
off script now.
A big, solid tree branch hit me hard from behind, knocking the wind out of me and sending me sprawling forward into the tree’s face. The branch was one of the mechanical arms which were programmed to wave and bounce in time to the Christmas carols that the tree sang. It swiftly wrapped around me and held me pressed up against the horrifyingly animated trunk, which snickered at me as I was shoved against it.
The blow had stunned me, but I was so frightened that adrenaline flooded my system, working wonders. I quickly regained my senses, took a noisy gulp of air, and started screaming my head off.
This set off a chain reaction of gasping and shrieking among the gathered crowd, who by now realized something was wrong.
The tree’s mouth, already stretched in a vicious snarl, sprouted long yellow fangs. I didn’t want to find out if they were as sharp as they looked, so I struggled with all my might against the dense synthetic branch that was trying to force me closer to that mouth.
“No, no, noooo!”
I was screaming.
“Dreidel!” Twinkle shouted.
“Dreidel!”
I heard the mad, musical screech of his accordion as he wrestled his way through the crowd, hollering frantically for maintenance, for help, for security, for
someone!
With my arms trapped by the encircling branch, I lifted my feet and braced them against the tree trunk, fighting the mechanical branch’s effort to drag me closer to the snarling, fanged mouth. I was panting hard with fear and exertion, struggling for air as the thick, twining branch tightened around me like a python, bruising my arms and squeezing breath from my body.
Some shoppers grabbed frantically at the branch and tugged on it, trying to release me. Another animated branch swooped
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