The room, bathed in the soft glow of candles, held its breath as father and daughter embarked on their cherished ritual. Stu-E's weathered hands cradled the familiar box, a treasure trove of Christmases past. The first ornament emerged – a time-worn relic from his youth, its silver tinsel catching the light like whispers of nostalgia.
Laney's small fingers delicately embraced each ornament, unveiling a kaleidoscope of family history. A fragile glass bauble became a vessel for stories as Stu-E's warm baritone recounted the tales behind each cherished piece. The room became a living tapestry of memories as they adorned the tree.
String lights cascaded like liquid stardust, guided by the hands of a father passing down tradition to his eager daughter. Laughter echoed through the room as Stu-E, with a smile etched with years of joy, lifted Laney onto his shoulders to reach the highest branches. The room hummed with the melody of shared moments and the gentle rustle of evergreen needles.
With a gentle nod from her father, Laney delicately placed the angel atop the tree, a symbol of their shared celebration. In the soft glow of twinkling lights, Stu-E stole a glance at Laney, their shared joy a testament to the beauty of family bonds.
As they stepped back to marvel at their creation – a testament to love and tradition – Stu-E and Laney shared a quiet exchange, a language of smiles and twinkling eyes that needed no words. In that tranquil moment, surrounded by the enchantment of Christmas, they basked in the simplicity of togetherness, savouring the warmth that only the holiday season could evoke.
After the final ornament found its place on the tree, Stu-E and Laney exchanged satisfied glances, their shared accomplishment glowing in the warm ambiance of the room. The soft, ambient glow of the Christmas lights painted the scene as they moved to the next cherished tradition – making hot chocolates.
Stu-E, with a grin etched on his face, led Laney to the cozy kitchen corner where the scent of cocoa mingled with the lingering fragrance of pine. The antique cocoa tin, weathered by countless winters, sat patiently on the countertop, ready to unveil its rich, comforting contents.
Father and daughter worked in tandem, their movements a silent ballet of familiarity. Stu-E reached for the milk, poured it into a quaint saucepan, and placed it on the stove with a nostalgic clatter. Laney, perched on a stool, watched with wide-eyed curiosity, her gaze reflecting the flickering flames of the gas stove.
As the milk warmed, Stu-E retrieved the cherished cocoa tin, its label worn but its contents promising a familiar sweetness. A fragrant cloud of cocoa enveloped them as he carefully measured out the dark powder, a ritual that seemed to transcend generations. The rich aroma began to dance with the scent of the tree, creating an olfactory symphony that encapsulated the essence of the season.
Laney, entrusted with the task of marshmallow duty, eagerly opened a bag of fluffy clouds. Her small hands delicately placed them in a bowl, each marshmallow seemingly a miniature pillow for the soul. Stu-E's gaze softened as he observed his daughter, marvelling at the simple beauty of shared moments.
The milk reached its velvety zenith, and Stu-E expertly poured it into waiting mugs, the cocoa mix dissolving into a steaming elixir of comfort. Laney, now beside her father, took a careful sip, the warmth of the mug spreading through her like a cozy hug.
With their hot chocolates in hand, Stu-E and Laney retreated to the living room. The tree, now a beacon of holiday cheer, bathed them in its gentle glow. As they settled into the plush embrace of the sofa, sipping their cocoa and sharing smiles, it was clear that in this small, warm corner of the world, the true magic of Christmas wasn't just in the decorations but in the precious moments shared between a father and his daughter.
The tapestry of their evening, summed up in a festive montage lovingly edited together with appropriate Christmas music, that sounds like a million and one famous songs, yet not enough to get sued for using it, comes to an end.
As the scene fades to the next, minus the music, everything stays in the same place besides Laney and the time on the clock on the wall behind them. From 9pm to 11pm, Stu-E is still sitting comfortably on his couch while Laney has most probably retreated to her bedroom.
In the time he’s had to himself he’s managed to wrap up a few presents and placed them under the tree for various friends and family. He’s not even started on Laney’s yet, but he’s done the classic mistake of buying Christmas presents while having a beer and completely overspending.
The serenity of the festive is scene is broken by the sound of a WhatsApp message on Price’s phone, which he duly checks. Of course, it’s a message from HWA enquiring when he’ll be saying something public about his upcoming match.
Truth be told, he’s been busy getting into the festive mood, and feeling content about life but… he knows his responsibility and how the business works. Stu-E leans forward and places his phone on the mahogany coffee table, remembering he’s got a wee dram of whisky left sitting there.
A smile escapes his face as he finishes the Highland Park and makes himself comfortable back on the couch ready to open his mouth.
“Well HWA, Merry Christmas, one and all. Thank you very much to the booking committee for the early present. I did wonder when you’d throw me in the ring with Maniac, I didn’t expect it so soon but nonetheless, I’m looking forward to it.”
Price smirks a little.
“When exactly was the last time, you were in the ring with someone like me, Maniac? And I don’t mean as far as wrestling styles go. I mean you’re standing across the ring from someone with no ulterior motive to rip your head off and crap down your neck, someone who isn’t sitting on top of a morality horse either. Miller might not be bright enough to really get it, but you do, don’t you.”
He holds his hands out, and curls his fingers almost saying ‘come on’.
“You know I’m just the sort of wrestler who just wants to fight the best, without any bullshit. Regardless of what I might say in a joke or a wind up. I can sit in a bar opposite you drinking expensive whisky and tell you to your face what I think of you and Erica and we don’t sit and get our knickers in a bunch like Miller did.
People like you and people like me can do that, it’s called being an adult, some of these younger wrestlers just might learn a thing or two from us. So come on, Maniac, I’ll meet you in Alaska and we’ll put on a show these young wrestlers will be watching when you and I are long gone.
I dare you, Maniac, to shock every single HWA fan watching by having a hell of a match and shaking my hand afterwards.”
Stu-E chuckles,
“I bet some people will say If I can pull that off, it’ll be as big as me going to Gaza and having Hamas and Israel round the Christmas table, sharing some pigs in blankets!”
Price glances at his empty whisky glass and contemplates going for another one. As he gets up, the scene fades out.
Message Thread
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