Doctor Strange Imagines

(#40) Christmas Special 2018

He woke up to a blur of lights and snow.

A shudder thundered through his body, making him conscious of the stark cold that had his limbs unmoving. A slight move of his hands, the ache settled in his articulations, the heavy blanket of snow burying him several feet under. He was freezing, even though he wore numerous layers of cloth.

He almost fell back into that deep sleep that had put him under for- He's not sure of how long. His mind still wandered in a dazed state, turning his surroundings slow, allowing him no place to comprehend what he was seeing. The dark sky, a distortioned symphony of hooting owls, the blinding lights, red, blue, green -make them stop- and the cumbersome scratching that he just couldn't fathom where it could be coming from.

Scrape, scrape, scrape.

Although it sounded more like shoveling, perhaps-

"Here we are as in olden days.

Happy golden days of yore."

Stephen blinked slowly, heaving a shuddering breath that had his lungs screaming. He couldn't bare the cold anymore. So he made a second attempt on his hands, only managing to barely lift the layer of snow tucking him in. Searing hot, even painful at a certain degree.

The scraping got louder, and it wasn't until a fresh layer of snow showered over his face that he found its origin. Or more particularly, them.

He could only watch silently, as the small figure came to view, hunched over a shovel taller than them, lifting it despite the obvious heaviness of it. Reddened cheeks, and a dreamy smile, childhood in all its glory, an untainted innocence that had a never ending curiosity to discover the world. It was the hope that there was good everywhere and everyone could get along.

An unconscious protection against the dumb disputes adults dwelled into.

And at a season like that, the happiness stood out more than ever, with Christmas songs that everyone knew by heart, the expectation of presents and the guilty indulgence in candy and treats that matched Halloween, the difference standing on the theme and overal flavours of the treats.

A child could be more understanding on certain topics truly.

Take dealing with a man buried under snow as an example.

"Faithful friends who are dear to us

They gather near to us once more."

The child, unaware of his awakening kept singing the joys of his heart, the almost shy verses fleeting away with the wind to join the peaceful night.

Until he stopped at a close proximity and reacted upon the eyes staring up at him.

With a quite horrified scream.

He should've expected the shovel that clashed against his jaw.

When he awakened for a second time, there was no peace, and the loud static morphed into incessant rambling.

"-so sorry Sir! You can wake up now. Are you dead? Please don't be dead, I didn't want to kill anyone!"

The next thing he noticed was the searing hot pain, patalizing, intensifying with every widening and narrowing of his mouth. The temptation of just laughing and groaning his pain out loudly was just so compeling, he just didn't know where to begin processing just how ridiculous the whole situation was.