Snow Way It's Christmas!

Christmas loomed like a blazing storm, though Alex, Emily, Victoria, and Tom were desperately wishing for an actual storm. Anything to break the endless New Zealand summer heat.

They lay sprawled across the wooden floor of the sitting room, a grand but lived-in space that seemed to defy its usual charm when paired with sweat-soaked kids.

Emily, her dark hair plastered to her forehead, let out a pitiful groan. “This is terrible.”

“It’s so hot, I feel like I’m marinating,” Alex mumbled. His light blonde hair—almost white—stuck out in sweaty spikes as he flopped back onto the floor, limbs splayed dramatically.

Victoria, usually the most composed of the group, sat upright with her knees pulled to her chest. She poked at her ponytail, which was frizzing aggressively in the humidity. “I don’t think I’ve blinked in an hour. It’s too much effort.”

“It’s like we’ve been cursed,” Tom said, his complexion glistened with sweat, and his usual cheerfulness dulled by the heat.

Enter Lord Sitka, their self-proclaimed guardian and resident drama king. He strode into the room like a peacock who’d just won best in show—except his regal blue velvet ensemble, complete with cravat, waistcoat, and long coat, made him look like a lunatic gearing up for a winter gala.

“What are you all doing down there?” he demanded, looking at them like they were a pile of discarded Christmas decorations. “We’re supposed to be decorating for Christmas! The tree arrives in an hour!”

Emily groaned louder, throwing her arm over her face like she was auditioning for a tragedy. “Why can’t we live in the northern hemisphere? With snow, and fires, and logic! Christmas makes no sense in summer!”

Lord Sitka’s frown deepened. Without a word, he turned on his heel, the tails of his coat swishing dramatically behind him, and marched out the front door.

“Uh-oh,” Alex said, sitting up slightly. “He’s going to do the thing.”

“What thing?” Victoria asked, frowning.

“The thing,” Alex replied vaguely, gesturing toward the door.

Moments later, a faint rumble filled the air.

The kids looked at each other in confusion as the sound grew louder, followed by a sudden whoosh of icy air spiraling through the fireplace.

The kids scrambled to the window just in time to witness the chaos.

It started with a few snowflakes, gently falling from the sky. But before anyone could appreciate the moment, a colossal, pillow-like avalanche of snow slammed down from nowhere, blanketing the entire street in an instant.

Lord Sitka, standing heroically in the centre of the cobbled street, was buried with a muffled thud.

For a moment, there was only stunned silence.

Then Alex burst out laughing, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “He’s—he’s gone!”

“Is he under there?” Victoria asked, pressing her face to the glass.

Tom squinted. “I think that’s his hat poking out…”

Sure enough, a hat wobbled its way to the surface of the snow, followed by a very disgruntled Lord Sitka. His once-dignified coat was covered in snow, and his hat was perched crookedly on his head.

“You’re welcome,” he called, brushing snow from his shoulders like it was all part of his plan.

Emily, still staring, muttered, “He’s turned it into winter.”

“More like an avalanche,” Alex quipped, snorting.

Tom grinned. “You know what this means, right?”

“What?” Victoria asked.

“Snow angels.”

***

The transformation was complete. Northway, a quiet magical town nestled over New Zealand’s Southern Alps, was now unrecognisable. Snow coated every rooftop and blanketed every footpath, while icy garlands stretched from one lamppost to the next.

Tom had to admit, they were rather late with their own decorating.

Alex immediately dove into the nearest snowbank, flailing his arms and legs. “Look! I’m an angel!”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “You look like a squashed jellyfish.”

“Oh, like you could do better,” Alex retorted.

“Challenge accepted,” Tom said, dropping into the snow with all the grace of a walrus.

Victoria observed their attempts with a smirk. “Your ‘angels’ look like crime scenes. Should I call the coroner?”

Meanwhile, Lord Sitka had appointed himself Chief Decorator, wobbling precariously on a ladder to hang garlands on the townhouse.

“Careful!” Emily called.

“I’ve been hanging garlands since before you could walk!” Sitka snapped, just as the ladder wobbled violently.

The inevitable crash was spectacular. Sitka landed face-first in a snowbank, his muffled shout of indignation emerging like a distant foghorn.

Alex doubled over laughing, clutching his stomach. “Why don’t you just use magic? Seems easier than… well, that.”

From the snowbank, Sitka’s muffled voice growled, “It’s about tradition!”

“Your tradition is falling on your face?” Alex quipped, grinning as Sitka struggled to his feet.

Sitka brushed the snow off his coat with a dramatic huff and muttered, “Tradition builds character. You lot should try it sometime.” He straightened his hat and added, “Now, where is that ruddy tree?!”

The decorating continued, with Sitka wobbling precariously on the ladder two more times and Alex waiting gleefully for the inevitable crashes. Finally, after much grumbling and a few snowball fights, the last garland was hung, and the group stepped back to admire their work. The street shimmered with lights, the house glowed with decorations, and even Sitka gave a grudging nod of approval.

Satisfied—for now—they trudged back inside, brushing off snow and collapsing onto the couches in the sitting room.

***

“I can’t believe we’re still waiting on the tree,” Emily said, her voice muffled by the cushion she’d buried her face in.

“It’s probably stuck in traffic,” Alex joked. “Or maybe it got lost trying to escape Sitka’s character-building traditions.”

Before Sitka could retort, a sharp knock echoed through the room, jolting them all upright.

“That’ll be the tree delivery,” Lord Sitka announced, already adjusting his coat with a flourish.

Tom shuffled to the door and opened it—only to freeze in confusion.

Standing in the doorway was a massive Christmas tree. It swayed slightly, its branches creaking like it was stretching after a long journey.

Tom blinked. “Um… hi?”

The tree tilted its top slightly, as though acknowledging him.

“Well, don’t just stand there!” Lord Sitka barked. “Let her in!”

Tom hesitated but stepped aside. With a loud thump, the tree hopped forward, shaking the floorboards. It continued thumping its way into the sitting room, leaving a trail of crushed needles and snow behind it.

By the time it reached the corner of the room, it spun slightly, as if admiring its placement, and settled with a final, triumphant thud.

Alex burst out laughing. “It’s got more personality than half the people I know!”

“It’s enchanted,” Sitka said matter-of-factly, waving off Alex’s comment. “Completely standard. Now, decorate it!”

Tom grabbed a bauble and cautiously approached the tree. As soon as he reached out, the tree whipped its branch away sharply, almost insulted.

“Oh, it’s definitely enchanted and opinionated,” Alex said, grinning.

Tom tried again, this time carefully hanging the bauble on another branch. The tree wobbled but allowed it.

By the third bauble, however, the tree decided it had had enough. With a dramatic poof, it unleashed a spray of pine needles straight into Tom’s face.

Alex fell onto the couch, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “It hates you! This is the best thing ever!”

“It does not hate me!” Tom protested, spitting out a pine needle.

The tree rustled ominously, as if to say, Don’t test me.

Victoria stepped forward, hands on her hips. “Let me try.” She approached the tree like a professional negotiator. “All right, let’s keep this civil.” The tree tilted slightly, as if considering, then let her hang a bauble.

Alex clapped. “Oh, great. It likes Victoria. Of course.”

“It’s called having a way with people,” Victoria replied smugly.

Emily followed suit, hanging a bauble without incident. “See? It’s fine if you’re not… you know… Tom.”

Tom groaned, brushing more needles off his shirt. “Oh, please. It’s a tree, not a person.”

At that, the tree rustled its branches violently, and with a dramatic plonk, it dropped a stray ornament onto Tom’s foot.

“OW!” Tom yelped, hopping on one leg. “Okay, fine! It’s not just a tree. It’s a petty little menace!”

Victoria and Emily exchanged knowing looks, then turned to glare at him in unison.

“Maybe don’t insult the thing that’s already tried to maim you,” Victoria suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Emily added with a smirk. “It clearly holds grudges.”

After much trial and error (and several more pine-needle ambushes), the tree was finally decorated. Lights sparkled through its branches, and ornaments shimmered in the glow.

Tom stood off to the side, arms crossed, muttering, “If it starts throwing baubles again, I’m moving out.”

Lord Sitka clapped his hands together, looking delighted. “Oh, nonsense! Snow in summer, an enchanted tree, and me! What more could anyone ask for?”

The tree rustled its branches mischievously, scattering a few more needles onto the floor.