The Sullivan household was in an uproar. They’d been in the middle of decorating my evergreen branches when the power went out, plunging them all into inky blackness. Lanky Patrick and his freckled sidekick, George, made eerie ghost noises, eliciting squeals from their older sisters, while two-year-old Edward, who’d stood on tiptoe in his slipper-footed pajamas to add his Bluey ornament, joined the screaming. 

“Everyone calm down,” said Mr. Sullivan. “No need for hysterics.”

“Here, Eddie,” Charlotte said. “I’ve got you.” 

There was a scramble of feet on the hardwood floors. A yelp. 

“Get off me.” Barbra’s high-pitched voice edged towards hysteria. 

A flame flickered to life, and sulfur mingled with the aroma of pine. Mrs. Sullivan held up a candle and tucked a lock of loose hair behind her ear. Barbra was still sprawled on the floor, scowl melting as she stood and smoothed her skirt. George and Patrick crawled towards Winston, whose tail thumped as they neared him.

“Right, where were we?” Mrs. Sullivan lit more candles and placed them around the living room. The soft glow filled the space and glinted off the tinsel they’d already affixed to my lower half. 

“One at a time.” She removed ornaments from the bin, and the sisters hurried forward. The older boys whooped with joy and scrambled to their feet. 

Mr. Sullivan, donning a Santa hat, added the star as the power returned and the holiday lights burst to life, blinding him. He crashed into me, and we both toppled.

Word: Tinsel | Action: Melting