Total pages in book: 9
Estimated words: 8110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 41(@200wpm)___ 32(@250wpm)___ 27(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 8110 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 41(@200wpm)___ 32(@250wpm)___ 27(@300wpm)
I plan to call Professor Linzer sometime after Christmas. I’m sure she’ll be excited to see it and knows a few people that would be eager to have such a treasure.
The photobook is resting on top, so I take it out first and open it to the last page. I leave it propped open on my coffee table so that I can see the last picture of Elodie as I unpack the rest. The crocheted snowflakes are delicate and look like they were made with love.
Glancing at my sad, nearly bare Christmas tree, I decide that Elodie would want me to have them. Clearly she was a lover of Christmas, and since her family didn’t appreciate them, I can assume she would want someone to. I hang all twelve on the tree, and they look so delicate.
“That’s better,” I say when I stand back and admire how beautiful they are.
I remove the tissue paper covering the star, and once again, I’m struck at how incredible it is. It’s like something from hundreds of years ago that was made to adorn a tree fit for a king. I’m afraid to put it on my tree because one wrong move and it could shatter. I can’t risk something happening to it, so I take extra care to wrap it in an old towel and place it in a sturdier box I found under my bed. Once it’s secure, I breathe a sigh of relief.
I’m about to remove the old box from my coffee table when I notice something else inside. Under the pile of white tissues, I see the color red peeking out. When I push the tissue out of the way, I see that it looks like a small red boot.
“What the heck?” Reaching in, my fingers close around something hard, and when I pull it out I gasp. “Hans!” I look over at Elodie’s photo beside me and see Hans there beside her on the mantle. “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe you were in there.”
The box wasn’t heavy at all, so I’m surprised I didn’t notice the weight of him. Now that I’ve got him in my hands, he’s much sturdier than I would have thought.
Hans is a typical nutcracker shape, but he’s wearing a uniform made of wool. The colors are deep red, and his accessories are trimmed in gold. His face looks hand painted with lots of details, including a mustache and slightly rosy cheeks. He’s adorned with a dark green cape that goes around his shoulders, and he’s also wearing a green and gold crown. There’s something that looks like a golden staff in one hand, and the whole design makes him appear regal.
“How incredible,” I say to myself as I inspect the nutcracker. “Someone put a lot of love into making you.”
Turning the nutcracker over, I peel back the cape to see if there’s a date or some kind of insignia of where it was purchased. In Elodie’s first picture holding him, she said the shop was in the Black Forest region of Germany. I wonder if the shop is still open.
“Let’s see what you’ve got under here.”
When I lift the cape, I notice that the handle that’s normally used to open his mouth is stuck against his back. The lever is what’s used to open his mouth so he can crack nuts. But with his clothes in the way, it can’t be lifted. Hans doesn’t appear to have ever been used for doing anything like that, and I’m not surprised. Most nutcrackers are for decoration and not functionality. At least more so now than in the past.
“Hmm, let’s see if we can fix this.”
I find the cloth fastened around his neck and untie the cape. Once that’s off, I unbutton his uniform shirt and place it on the coffee table next to it. When Hans is shirtless, for half a second I stare in shock at his bare chest. Whoever carved Hans gave him some serious muscles. There’s even a little tattoo on his bicep that looks like a Christmas tree.
“Damn, Hans. Someone has been hitting the gym.” I snort at my own joke as I turn him face down on my lap and unbutton the back of his pants.
Surely there’s some kind of signature from the artist. I think it would be really cool to know who crafted him or at least see if the shop has a website. I’m probably far too invested in this, but what else do I have to do? It’s Christmas Eve, and I’ve got nowhere to go and nothing to do.
Once I have his pants off, I turn him over and gasp. “Hans has a dick!” I practically squeal as I hold him in front of me. “And holy shit, it’s huge.”
Okay, maybe I don’t want to find the person that carved him.