Recursive Realms

Betty Frost tightened the last of the garland around the lamppost, gracing the chilled, winter-kissed street with a flourish of red and green. Her breath held white wisps to the twilight as she turned to survey Evergreen Falls, now transformed into a Christmas wonderland. Each pine tree stood sentinel, adorning the boulevard, their branches lit with swarms of amber lights that challenged the creeping night.

A giggle escaped a child muffled in holiday knitwear as he danced under the luminous arcs. Betty’s gaze caught the innocent revelry and her heart warmed, but beneath the festive mirth, unease knotted in her stomach, tightening with each sighting of red velvet and snowy beards. She ran a hand through her hair, the silver streaks catching the light, a silent testament to years spent nurturing this town’s traditions.