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“Suitcase? Suitcase! Where are you?” Moaned Phoebe, stomping on the spot in an immature tantrum, having lost patience while looking in every conceivable space in her apartment. She’d rummaged the bedroom, had sifted through the clutter in the utility room, scanned the bathroom and dove into every closet and large drawer, but that damned suitcase appeared to be hiding from her.

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   Phoebe’s suitcase was a black, 20kg fabric travel case that stood on a set of sturdy plastic wheels. She’d bought it on a discount at Macy’s three Christmases ago, however, after she lugged her new case back to her apartment in Convent Avenue, she discovered that it quite literally had a life of its own! To Phoebe’s horror, her suitcase began to roll itself around, drop itself downstairs, attempt to use elevators and would even demonstrate its ability to talk; The two lines of the zip would peel apart like a pair of lips and a deep, male voice would bellow from a cavernous trench, despite the fact that the suitcase was only the size of a suit case, it was as if a giant lived from within. Upon the first time hearing this guttural demonic speech, Phoebe had nearly slipped into fatal cardiac arrest - many panic-attacks and questions about her mental health would ensue henceforth, leading to the decision to throw the case out of the window, right onto the street below. But, while doing her best to carry out this plan, the suitcase didn’t agree and made itself far too heavy for Phoebe, or any man or woman, to move it even an inch. Whence calmed down, the suitcase explained that it was actually a demon of ancient times, and through a series of many unlucky and unfortunate events, its present form was that of a modern-day suitcase. After several failed and somewhat humiliating attempts to rid herself of the obnoxious suitcase, Phoebe reluctantly accepted the fact that she was stuck with the monstrosity and learned to live with it, establishing a turbulent love/hate relationship. The suitcase spent most of its days leisurely rolling itself around her apartment, chasing and harassing Phoebe’s ginger cat, Tigger.

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   The month was December, and the grand city of New York had adopted the traditional holiday spirit, adorning its bustling streets with colourful festive lights and decorations for Christmas trees. Jolly music blared from almost every nook and cranny in the city, from passing cars, clinically lit grocery stores to entire shopping malls. As warm and inviting as some establishments were, having gone above and beyond to honour the meaning of the holiday, the bitter cold dictated the mood of many minds, having settled in with the whip of strong winter winds. Frost had blanketed the parks, turning them into ethereal romantic forests, roads and pavements were frozen solid, weather warnings had been issued from the media, their programs rolling on repeat from bright television sets behind store windows, while snow delicately fell from an ominous grey sky. Phoebe was lucky, her apartment building happened to be nestled amongst enthusiastic traditionalists, the types who longed for Christmas and would begin setting up their overly dynamic displays in the twilight of your typical, soggy November.

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   However, Phoebe’s festive spirit was somewhat dampened as she had a flight home to England in several hours and she needed to get to JFK Airport, but before she could make any meaningful move, she desperately needed to pack, she desperately needed to find her blasted suitcase...

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The full story is available as part of the novella A Tree-mendous Scandal In Central Park & Other Stories, released October 2024 on Amazon.