Chris Green was alone a lot. Some would argue he’d done it to himself, given that he left his budding family to move to the countryside. It mattered little. Whether by self induction or poor luck, the result was the same: middle-aged Chris was a solitary man.
He felt it most acutely during the holidays. Lots of people were alone on the last Thursday of the month, but in November most of them found their way to a communal table with friends or family. Having neither, Chris had begun to improvise.
It started as a lark that ballooned quickly. One year he ate stuffing next to a discarded mannequin he’d found in an alley. A few Thanksgivings later and he had a legion of frozen features crammed around his small home. When he ran out of space for his guests, Chris decided to take his flock of fake friends out into the open.
The party consisted everything he liked, from the music to the wine. The guests didn’t bring their own favorites or roll their eyes at his selections. So in that way, it was perfect. But while no one was able to offer their opinion, they were also unable to offer their help. Chris darted around setting things up, preparing the food, laying out napkins, changing the music. It was all so much to handle that he took his eye off the turkey slowly spinning on a spit for a moment too long.
When the flames jumped to consume Tilly, his favorite blonde mannequin, Chris stared in mute horror. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not today’s party or his life in general. He’d tried to safeguard himself from the impact of others’ needs, but even lifeless plastic had a way of reminding him that he never had enough to give.
This story was written as part of a visual writing prompt project I started on Instagram. Each week I offer an image to spark stories and poetry. I make sure to always share a response of my own. They’re short; micro-fiction, really. Still, they’re stories I put energy into so I’m giving them a home here as part of a microfiction series. I hope you enjoy.
Poor Chris can’t catch a break 😆🥲 This is a stretch but your story reminded me of this gem by E. T. A Hoffman:
https://www.ux1.eiu.edu/~rlbeebe/sandman.pdf