Christmas Came on the Fifteenth of September

The First Decoration

At seven o’clock on the morning of 15th September, Arthur Bennett opened his curtains and discovered that Christmas had arrived three months early. A large illuminated reindeer stood on the opposite pavement. Its head moved mechanically from side to side, although no cable connected it to anything. Red and green lights had been wound around every lamppost, and a silver star hung above the entrance to Hawthorn Close.

Arthur stared through the glass for several seconds. He had lived in the close for forty-three years and had complained about Christmas decorations during at least thirty-nine of them, but he had never objected before the month of December. The morning was already warm, and the weather forecast promised twenty-seven degrees. He looked again at the reindeer, and it seemed to be suffering from heat exhaustion. Arthur was not sure how it was possible for a mechanical reindeer to suffer heat exhaustion.

Arthur then opened the window, yelling: “Who put that thing there?” The reindeer turned towards him and nodded, and almost immediately, Arthur closed the window in disbelief. He then dressed, went downstairs and telephoned the council. A recorded voice advised him that Christmas lights would be switched on during the final week of November. “They are already switched on,” Arthur told the recording. The recording thanked him for his interest in local events and disconnected the call.

Outside, several neighbours had gathered around the reindeer. Mrs Patel from number twelve wore a dressing gown and held a wooden spoon. Colin Webb from number eight was photographing everything for social media.

“Apparently, we’re trending,” Colin announced. “We are a cul-de-sac,” Arthur replied, hearing Colin’s shout. “We should not be trending.”

Nobody admitted to installing the decorations; the council denied responsibility, and the electricity company found no cables or batteries connected to anything with lights or to the moving mechanical reindeer. When Colin attempted to remove the silver star, it gave him a mild electric shock and began playing “Silent Night”. “It is probably a publicity stunt,” Mrs Patel suggested. “For what?” Arthur asked.

“Christmas.”

“Christmas already has adequate publicity.”

A white object drifted slowly between them and landed on Arthur’s sleeve. It was a snowflake!

Snow During a Heatwave

Within ten minutes, snow was falling across Hawthorn Close. It did not fall anywhere else as the main road remained dry, and shoppers walked beneath a cloudless blue sky. Inside the close, snow settled upon roofs, gardens and parked cars, and the temperature remained twenty-seven degrees.

Children ran from their houses wearing shorts, sandals and Christmas hats. Adults stood in the snow, checking their weather apps, which confidently reported strong sunshine.

The snow felt cold beneath Arthur’s shoes, but it did not melt. When he carried a handful at the entrance to the close, it disappeared before reaching the ground.

By nine o’clock, television crews had arrived, but their cameras had stopped working when they entered Hawthorn Close, so reporters stood outside and described the scene from a safe distance.

A woman from an internet channel claimed the government had created the snowfall. A man in a silver helmet blamed visitors from another planet. Colin blamed artificial intelligence, although he could not explain how it had produced actual snow, and Arthur blamed Christmas.

At precisely ten o’clock, music began playing from somewhere above the houses. Sleigh bells rang, followed by the opening notes of “White Christmas”. Arthur went back inside and closed every window as he had not celebrated Christmas properly since Margaret died.

The Unopened Card

Margaret Bennett had died on Christmas Eve the previous year when she was seventy-nine, after they had been married for fifty-six years. Their daughter, Helen, had intended to visit that Christmas but, due to an argument, had been prevented from coming.

The disagreement had begun over something so unimportant that Arthur could no longer remember it clearly. They had talked on the phone about when Helen would arrive, what her husband might eat, and whether their two children would spend too much time looking at their phones.

Arthur had not remembered his final words to Helen that previous Christmas. “If everything here is so inconvenient, perhaps you should stay at home”, and Helen had done exactly that.

Margaret became ill two days after the disagreement. She was admitted to hospital and had allowed Arthur to sit beside her. Unfortunately, she died before her daughter Helen had arrived. Arthur and Helen spoke at the funeral, although neither of them found the courage to discuss their disagreement. Their conversations since then had been brief, polite and increasingly rare.

Arthur had spent the following Christmas Day alone. He had placed every card in a drawer, but one remained unopened because Margaret had written his name on the envelope. She had probably intended to give it to him on Christmas morning.

Arthur had carried the envelope upstairs, hidden it beneath a stack of shirts, and not touched it again.

As “White Christmas” continued outside, Arthur climbed the stairs and opened the wardrobe. The envelope was where he had left it, but something had changed. Across the front, beneath Margaret’s handwriting, four new words had appeared. OPEN BEFORE CHRISTMAS ENDS.

Arthur took the unopened Christmas card downstairs.

Everyone Received Something

The strange Christmas was no longer limited to decorations and snow. At number twelve, Mrs Patel found her late mother’s Christmas pudding simmering in the kitchen. Nobody had prepared it, but the pudding was unmistakably her mother's.

Colin Webb discovered a red bicycle beside his fireplace. It was identical to the bicycle his parents couldn't afford when he was nine.

At number twenty-one, six-year-old Sophie Collins heard bells in the back garden and found a trail of hoofprints crossing the snow. Her father insisted that reindeer could not climb over garden fences, but Sophie explained that this was why they had been given the ability to fly.

Each household received something connected with an earlier Christmas. Some things brought laughter, while others produced tears.

Arthur placed Margaret’s card on the kitchen table, although he could not bring himself to open it.

At midday, Mrs Patel knocked on his door carrying a bowl of Christmas pudding, although the sun was blazing above the snowy roofs.

“My mother always added too much brandy,” she said. “And this tastes exactly the same.”

Arthur invited her inside. “Have you received anything?” she asked. Arthur looked towards the card.

Mrs Patel followed his gaze. “Perhaps you should open it.” “I know what it will say,” Arthur replied.

“Then opening it cannot hurt you,” she replied.

“It can if I am wrong,” Arthur retorted.

Mrs Patel considered this argument before placing a bowl in front of him. “My husband believed unopened letters contained every possible message,” she said. “Good news, bad news and everything between them. Once you open one, you are left with only the truth.”

Arthur pushed the card farther away.

“I am not ready for the truth.” Outside, “White Christmas” stopped abruptly.

A clock began ticking.

The Countdown

At one o’clock, the silver star displayed a glowing number above the entrance to Hawthorn Close.

11:00:00

One second later, it changed to 10:59:59.

The news reporters became tremendously excited. The man in the silver helmet announced that the world would end at midnight. The council advised residents to remain calm, admitting it did not know why.

Inside the close, people understood without being told that Christmas would end when the clock reached zero.

Arthur watched the numbers through his window, but each passing second seemed to make the unopened card heavier.

At three o’clock, carol singers appeared outside number seventeen. They wore old-fashioned coats and seemed unaffected by the heat. Nobody recognised them, although an elderly resident claimed that one singer looked exactly like his brother, who had died in 1968.

At five o’clock, every house produced the smell of roasting turkey. Vegetarians reported an equally mysterious aroma of nut roast. At six o’clock, dining tables were set by themseves.

Families abandoned their plans and ate Christmas dinner together. Neighbours carried chairs between houses, and strangers were welcomed because leaving anyone alone seemed particularly wrong.

Mrs Patel invited Arthur to join her family, but he declined, so she left a plate outside his door anyway.

The clock continued its countdown.

Arthur ate alone while voices and laughter drifted from the surrounding houses. He imagined Margaret sitting opposite him, criticising the dryness of the turkey and pretending not to want another roast potato.

At eight o’clock, somebody knocked and Arthur expected Mrs Patel, but Helen stood on the doorstep.

She was wearing a summer dress beneath a winter coat and snow had settled in her hair.

“I saw Hawthorn Close on the news,” she said. “I recognised the reindeer.”

“You recognised it?” Artur said.

“Mum bought it about twenty years ago. You said it made the house look like a garden centre, so she returned it.”

“That reindeer was never here,” Arthur said. “Perhaps it remembered where it was supposed to be,” Helen replied.

Helen then entered the hallway, although neither of them attempted an embrace. Arthur led her into the kitchen, where Margaret’s card remained unopened.

Helen stopped when she saw it. “You still have that?”

“You knew about it?” Arthur replied.

“Mum showed it to me.”

Arthur stared at his daughter. “Did you read it?”

“No, although she told me why she wrote it.”

The glowing clock outside showed three hours and forty-seven minutes remaining.

Margaret’s Last Christmas Present

Helen sat at the kitchen table.

“Mum telephoned me after our argument,” she explained. “She said that you were both being stubborn and that one of you had to stop.”

“She always thought everything could be repaired with a cup of tea.”

“She was usually right.”

Arthur filled the kettle but forgot to switch it on.

“I should have telephoned you,” he said.

“I should have come anyway.”

“I told you to stay away.”

“I knew you did not mean it.”

“I meant it when I said it. That was the worst part.”

Helen looked down at her hands. “I wanted you to apologise first.”

“So did I.”

“That worked well.”

Arthur smiled, and Helen laughed, and the sound reminded him painfully of Margaret.

He picked up the envelope and saw the instruction across the front was starting to fade.

OPEN BEFORE CHRISTMAS ENDS.

“I could keep it unopened”, Arthur said. “Then it would still be the final thing your mother wrote to me.”

“It would also be the one thing she wrote that you refused to read.”

Arthur opened the envelope.

The card showed a picture of a snow-covered cottage. Inside, Margaret had written a message in blue ink.

“My dear Arthur,

This year, I am giving you something you have always needed and never requested. I am giving you permission to admit when you are wrong.

Life is too short for silent rooms, unfinished arguments and people waiting for someone else to speak first. If you and Helen quarrel again, telephone her before pride becomes more important than love.

Merry Christmas, you stubborn old man.

All my love,

Margaret”

Arthur read the message twice before passing it to Helen.

“She knew us rather well,” Helen said.

“She knew me too well.”

Helen reached across the table and took his hand.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“So am I.”

The kitchen lights flickered. Outside, the clock showed one hour and eleven minutes.

For the first time since Margaret’s death, Arthur switched on the kettle and made tea for two.

Before Midnight

They spent the remaining hour talking about everything except the argument.

Helen described the children’s schools, her husband’s new job and the leaking roof they had been pretending not to notice. Arthur told her about his unsuccessful battle with the council over the missing recycling bin.

With fifteen minutes remaining, every resident gathered around the illuminated reindeer.

People held objects that Christmas had returned to them. Mrs Patel carried her mother’s empty pudding bowl. Colin sat upon the red bicycle, although his knees almost reached his chin. Sophie wore a dressing gown over her summer clothes and searched the sky for reindeer.

Arthur held Margaret’s card.

When the clock reached one minute, the music began again.

“Silent Night” played quietly across the close. Neighbours joined in, some singing confidently and others producing sounds that were merely well-intentioned.

The countdown reached ten seconds.

Sophie shouted each number.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Arthur put his arm around Helen.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

The reindeer turned its head towards him.

“Four! Three! Two! One!”

The star went dark.

Every Christmas light disappeared. The snow vanished without melting, and warm September air settled over the close. The reindeer remained for one final moment.

It winked at Arthur.

Then it disappeared.

The Right Time After All

The following morning, Hawthorn Close looked entirely ordinary. Television reporters departed, although the man in the silver helmet remained convinced that everyone had been temporarily abducted.

No photographs taken inside the close had survived. The returned objects had vanished, including Colin’s bicycle and Mrs Patel’s pudding bowl.

Margaret’s card remained upon Arthur’s kitchen table.

Helen stayed for breakfast and before leaving, she invited him to spend Christmas with her family.

“I should warn you that the children will be using their phones,” she said.

“I shall make a formal complaint to Father Christmas.”

They embraced beside her car.

After Helen had gone, Arthur walked across the road to the place where the reindeer had stood. Something glittered upon the pavement.

It was a small silver bell attached to a red ribbon.

Arthur picked it up and shook it, but it made no sound.

That afternoon, he placed the bell and Margaret’s card upon the mantelpiece. He considered putting them away until December, but decided against it.

Christmas had arrived on the fifteenth of September, which was unquestionably the wrong time of year.

For Arthur, however, it had arrived just in time.