Chapter 1: Tilly is Born
Tilly’s first memory began on a cold night in early December. December 4th to be exact. At first everything was dark. She wouldn’t have even realized that she existed if it weren’t for the very faint sound that emanated through the darkness and reverberated in her ceramic head.
As it grew louder, something inside her knew that this was the beginning of her life. Her very purpose had everything to do with this sound—or at least what it represented.
Music... Christmas music! She wondered how she knew.
Next came smell. Pine, wood burning—but not obnoxiously. Spices like cinnamon and nutmeg were there, too. Beyond that, and barely discernible, she could pick up the light scent of snow, fresh and crisp.
These fragrances make me feel good inside!
The next thing she knew, she felt the gentle prickle of something bushy, yet soft all along her backside. What was this new sense? Ah, touch!
Yet, she couldn’t move to reach around and touch the oddity back. I’m floating, she finally determined, not feeling anything beneath her and knowing that she wasn’t lying down either. But she wasn’t scared, simply knowing that this was where she was meant to be.
Finally, she opened the eyes she just realized she had, and a blur of bright color and darkness struck her simultaneously. Focusing hard, the lights cleared, multicolored in nature and all around her.
“Christmas!” She uttered aloud in almost a whisper for the first time, as her mouth and tongue moved to her amazement. “I can talk!” She exclaimed a little louder now.
Tilly blinked several times, trying to take in everything around her, while allowing her new senses to adjust to the world she found herself in. Her sense of motion lit up within her body, making her limbs and face feel warm and alive.
She had no memories of anything before now, yet she knew things. She knew her name was Tilly Tippy Toes, and she knew that this tree was to be her home. She knew of Christmas, but was a bit fuzzy on the details, though they were slowly coming to her.
Looking down at her tiny ceramic hands, Tilly smoothed her delicate light pink dress with wispy pink feathers for the tutu, admiring its soft color. She wrapped herself in a hug, feeling the sensation of her fingers on her arms and smiled, “This is amazing! I’m alive!”
Stretching out her legs that had been curled under her before, Tilly tried to look up, but her hat was stuck.
“Oh, dear,” she frowned, “How do I get down?”
Then from somewhere below she heard a voice—different from the singing on the recorded Christmas carols that had been playing until a few moments ago. There it was again!
“I found her! This year’s addition to the tree!”