‘Tis the Season
Troll the Ancient Yuletide Carol!
Rescue
In just a short time, the rest of the team that saved me boarded the helicopter. I was taken to the airport and then to the Mackenson Institute in Clarkston, Texas, where I was checked out by a doctor and given a clean bill of health. I even met a distant kinsman, Dr. Robert Williamson, who is the Director of the Mackenson Institute.
After recovering for a few days, meeting some interesting people, and celebrating the real Christmas (on the 25th!) with them, the faculty was kind enough to escort me home. Someone retrieved my vehicle, and arrangements were made for school personnel to get me and my SUV back to Squire Hill. Dr. Williamson even found me a new live-in housekeeper, the widow Mrs. Mercy Jade Adams. She and I get along well—and she likes cats. It’s hard to dislike someone who likes cats.
This has been quite a Christmas, one for the books, as they say. In hindsight, I shudder when I think about past holiday seasons. Once, when I was young, I heard sleigh bells on Christmas night. I wonder how many times that awful blue-robed fiend was in our house, or on our roof? How many times did he or some minion climb down the chimney like a thief in the night? And, most curious of all: How and when did my family begin to celebrate an ancient pagan holiday? That the founders traffic in human sacrifice is clear—but, at least in my youth, I never knew a thing about it. I must have been well shielded.
As I now move forward toward recovery, I need to keep a close eye on my medication. I can’t recall when I last took it. Am I deep into a manic phase? Is my psychosis worsening? Am I a reliable narrator? I wish I could say for certain, but I cannot. I do believe, though, that I’m doing better.
© 2023-2026 Ren Adama
