The Night the Nutcracker Came to Life

Posted On January 17, 2024

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The sun had just gone down that cold December night. I was finishing up wrapping some gifts and putting them under the tree. 

Christmas decorations adorned the house, both inside and out. I decided to give Clark W. Griswold a run for his money this year. 

“Honey,” I called out to my wife. “Did you move the nutcracker?” 

We have a four-foot-tall nutcracker that’s beautifully decorated and made of hard plastic. It has vibrant colors from head to toe. The base is made of a solid composite to keep it from tipping over. 

It has a black hat with what looks like a gold fleur-de-lis (or New Orleans Saints-style symbol) on it. Under its hat, the nutcracker has bright white hair, with a matching mustache and beard, and deep blue eyes with olive-toned skin. 

He wears a red and green jacket with gold frills, red pants, and black boots with gold accents. His arms are straight to his side. There’s no weapon, drum, or staff. 

On the front of it, there are several colored LED lights. Blue, green, red, and white ones that are powered by three double-A batteries. In Griswold style, I made sure to use the max capacity ones. 

“No” she yelled back, from the other room. 

I remember distinctly putting the nutcracker in a certain place at a certain angle. I don’t have OCD, but I know how to place Christmas decorations around the house. 

Perhaps one of the dogs ran into it, I thought to myself. 

Without giving it any further thought, I moved the nutcracker back into its original position. Finished with the gifts, and then went in to see what my wife was up to. 

Before heading out to work the next morning, I walked past the nutcracker toward the kitchen. It had been moved again. 

Why can’t people just leave this guy alone, I thought out loud, as I put him back into place. 

After making my lunch, I got everything together and was about to head out the door. Though it was dark, I could see out of the corner of my eye that the nutcracker had been moved again. 

However, this time there were no dogs or people around to move him. 

I wanted to call out to my wife, but I knew she was still asleep. Along with the dogs on the bed beside her. 

Only slightly alarmed, I decided to create an experiment. I went over and turned the nutcracker 180 degrees. Instead of facing toward the tree, it was now facing the wall.  

Running late, I left him that way, grabbed my things, and headed out the door for work. 

Production issues and nagging clients seemed to pass the time well because the clock told me the end of my shift was near. 

I wonder if she’ll fix the nutcracker, I thought. 

Once 4 o’clock hit, I grabbed what I needed and headed home.  

When I walked in, I didn’t have to let my wife know I was home. The dogs were kind enough to do that for me. 

“Honey, is that you?” I could hear her call to me. 

“Yes love,” I replied. 

Putting my stuff down, I looked at the tree. It was beautiful. My family and I spent a whole hour decorating it. Just one of the many Christmas festivities we do together. 

Without thinking, I looked over and saw that the nutcracker was facing the tree again. 

“Honey,” I called out. “Did you move the nutcracker?” 

This time, rather than call back she came to where I was. “What do you mean?” she asked. 

“I turned him to face the wall before leaving this morning,” I replied. “And now he’s facing the tree again.” 

“Honey, I didn’t move him,” she reassured me. “But maybe one of the kids did.” 

“Kids,” I called upstairs to them. “Did either of you move the nutcracker?”  

“What do you mean?” one of them hollered back.  

“It’s a yes or no question. Did you or did you not move the nutcracker?” 

“No,” they replied in unison. 

“What’s wrong?” my wife asked. 

“Remember how I asked you if you’d moved it yesterday, and you said you hadn’t?” I asked, now looking at her.  

“Yes,” she replied. 

“This morning, it was moved again. So, I turned it to face the wall. Now, it’s facing the tree again. And no one seems to know why,” I was perplexed. She could see the concern in my eyes. 

“Maybe one of the dogs bumped into it again,” she brushed it off. 

“Maybe,” I conceded, not wanting to investigate it further. At least not right now. “What smells good?” I asked with a smile, as I hugged and kissed her. 

“Come on over and see for yourself,” she smiled. She grabbed my hand and led me into the kitchen. 

After dinner, the kids and I went upstairs to the loft to play a video game together. Something that we like to do. Though I’m not nearly as good as they are, I try my best to at least give them a run for their money. 

“Did you bring the nutcracker upstairs?” my daughter asked me. 

“What?” I asked perplexed, as I turned to see the nutcracker standing near the entryway to the loft. “How did that get up here?” I looked at my kids and then back to the nutcracker. 

“Are you sure one of you didn’t bring it up here?” I asked, looking at each of them. 

“Sure Dad,” my son responded. “While we were in the middle of playing the game, we snuck downstairs, without you seeing us, and brought it up here.” 

At least I know where he gets his sarcasm from. 

“I wonder what it wants?” I asked though I didn’t mean it to be audible. 

“What do you mean what it wants?” I could hear the fear in my daughter’s voice. 

“I’m sorry princess,” I said, comforting her. “I’m sure it’s fine.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to comfort her or myself. 

“Who’s winning?” we heard a raspy male voice ask. I know what my son’s voice sounds like and I know I didn’t ask the question. 

I looked at my son, whose face was pale white. It looked as if the blood had been drained out of it. 

He couldn’t say a word, but his eyes said enough. Without so much as blink, they remained fixed on the nutcracker. 

“The…the…the…the…the,” my son tried to say. 

“The nutcracker spoke,” the nutcracker said. “I believe those are the words you’re looking for.” 

My daughter’s scream was ear-piercing.  I’m sure even our neighbors heard it. 

“Ahh,” the nutcracker also screamed. 

“Don’t scream like that,” he said, holding his chest. “I think my heart skipped a beat.” 

“Your heart?” my daughter complained. 

Hearing the scream, my wife came upstairs. Not a good idea. My wife gets scared when I merely walk into the room. Seeing a walking, talking four-foot nutcracker was a bit too much. 

Upon rounding the corner, she startled the nutcracker. He jumped and turned to face her. With him now facing her, she half screamed and then fell to the floor unconscious. 

“Mama,” my daughter cried, as she went to her side. 

After a minute, my wife began coming around. 

“I could’ve sworn the nutcracker turned around on its own,” she said. As she opened her eyes, she realized it wasn’t a dream. 

“Please don’t scream again,” the nutcracker said. 

“Are you a possessed?” I asked. 

“No,” he replied. “I’m alive. Thanks to you.” 

“Thanks to me?” I asked. 

“Yes,” he said as a matter of fact with a smile. “You picked me, brought me home, and gave me life with those batteries.” 

“Do you have a name?” my son asked. 

“Max.” 

“A great name,” I said. “Pun intended.” We all laughed. 

That was the day Max became an unofficial member of our family. And he’s the one Christmas decoration that doesn’t get put away in January. 

Since writing this story, my wife and kids have been moving the nutcracker around the house. I’m glad I was able to impress upon them this idea.