Old Christmas hymns played through the speakers, and the smell of cooking pancakes wafted through the air from the kitchen, as the mother and her oldest son started picking up discard gift wrapping off the ground, lit by both the early morning sun, and the soft lights decorating the Christmas tree.
Every member of the Timberfell family had enjoyed their gift opening session (even if the parents and older brother hadn't shared the two younger siblings' enthusiasm for getting up at the crack of dawn to do it), and now things were winding back down.
Six year old Paul lay on the floor, pushing around a little toy car, while ten year old Cassie combed through the mane of her pony toy. Fourteen year old Flint tried not to complain as he stepped around Paul to grab at extra wrapping, their mom took her armful of wrapping to the next room's larger trash can, and their dad was busy in the kitchen making breakfast, (Paul and Cassie had insisted the presents HAD to be opened before anything else happened).
Putting down his car for a moment, Paul looked back at his big Christmas stocking, flopped down beside the unlit fireplace. He'd already taken the candy and action figure Santa had left for him in it, and, now that Mom wasn't looking, he figured it was as good a time as any to engage in his own little Christmas tradition; sticking his foot in the stocking to see if he'd grown big enough to fit in it.
With a grin, he pulled it up, and stuck his right foot down, only to get a surprise chill as his foot met something made of firm, cool metal. He quickly pulled his foot out, thinking he may have missed another present.
Reaching inside, he pulled out a shiny pendant, with some kind of dog face etched into it, and a note stuck on the back. Curious, Paul took off the paper, and began to read.
It used a few words he hadn't heard of before, but somehow, as if by magic, he understood the meaning of all of them.
He wasn't sure he believed the note. His mom had told him, when he'd watched a movie with a scary wizard, that magic wasn't real. But why would Santa bring him a present from this “Coyote” if it was just a lie.
He put it around his neck, and thought about people he might like to change. Maybe he could give his friends from school into cool superpowered robots, or make them look like their favorite animals. Maybe he could make his brother less pushy, and stop him from worrying about his grades all the time, or make his sister less annoying by turning her into one of his action figures... or he could be nice and make her into one of those ponies she loved.
He thought about how his grandma couldn't come for Christmas this year because she was sick. Maybe this magic could make her better? Or make her a kid again, too. That'd be fun!
He looked at his mom as she stepped back into the room. His mom always liked birds, and they were pretty, like she was. Maybe he'd try making her into a pretty bird lady. One that could fly him around! That'd be lots of fun!
“Mom should be a pretty bird lady,” he whispered, excited to see if the magic would work or not.
He didn't have to wait long; within seconds, dozens of bright red feathers began to grow from his mother's skin, with patches of green on her arms and legs (and, though he wasn't able to see it, her back, as well). Her hand and feet both turned a grayish color as little black scales grew from them, the digits each getting a little longer and thinner, as the fingernails vanished, replaced with carefully blunted talons.
Her hair became part of a short, feathered crest, while her nose and mouth hardened, then grew forward, curving down into a short, rounded beak. Her body seemed to round out slightly, taking a more aerodynamic form, and her clothes began to shift to match, her sweater and pants becoming tight-but-well insulated to protect from the winter weather, with three openings in the back, which soon found themselves filled.
Above her rear, a set of red tail feathers grew out, stretching down past her knees like a set of coattails. Meanwhile, from her back, a magnificent set of wings spread out wide, covered in bright red feathers, with lines of green and blue running their length down the middle.
“Wow, it worked!” Paul cheered, finally catching his mom's attention.
“What worked?” His mom said, turning to him.
“You're a bird!”
Despite having a beak, his mom somehow smiled. “Yes, I am. But what does-” She looked down at him, then crouched. “Where'd you get this?” She asked, pointing to the pendant.
“It was in my stocking.”
His mother tilted her head slightly. “Are you sure? I don't remember pu- I mean, I don't remember Santa leaving any presents like that.”
“That's where I found it,” Paul said. “Did you like your present?”
“The cute hat you got me? Yes, I love it.”
Paul shook his head. “No, you being a bird. I thought you'd look pretty.”
His mother's face scrunched up in confusion. “I... thank you? I don't get what you mean.”
“I turned you into a bird with this magic necklace!”
His mother, still a little confused, went back to a weak smile. “Well, thank you for making me a pretty bird. I'm going to help your father with the pancakes.” She stood up and left.
Paul could tell she didn't believe him. He then remembered the note. If he wanted people to know they'd changed, he'd have to think or say it himself. He'd forgotten about that. He'd need to be careful next time.
But still, it worked! Who knows what kinds of crazy things he could do with his new Christmas present! He couldn't wait to try it out some more.