The Adventures of Marcus & Nelson: At the Carol Concert

Marcus Harris tugged at the collar of his Newport County football shirt, which he insisted on wearing even though Mum said a nice jumper would look “more Christmassy.” But Marcus didn’t care. Tonight was the big school carol concert, and he’d been practising for weeks. Well… he’d practised. A bit. Mostly.

Nelson, Marcus’s blue-green glass eye with a taste for chaos, glinted excitedly as Marcus walked into the packed school hall. Fairy lights twinkled around the windows, and the smell of mince pies drifted through the air. Parents whispered. Teachers rushed about. And the school choir—Marcus among them—climbed onto the stage.

“Stay still,” Marcus whispered to Nelson, who sat in his socket pretending to be perfectly innocent.

The lights dimmed. Mrs. Pennington raised her hands, and the piano began the first notes of Once in Royal David’s City. Marcus took a deep breath. He opened his mouth to sing—

—and Nelson sneezed.

Now, glass eyes shouldn’t sneeze, of course, but Nelson wasn’t a normal glass eye. With a tiny ping, he shot out like a blue-green comet, bouncing off Marcus’s sheet music, sailing over the heads of Year 3, and landing with a festive plonk in the tinsel surrounding the nativity set.

Marcus froze mid-lyric. “Oh no….”

Mrs. Pennington glared, her eyebrow twitching dangerously. But the audience thought it was part of the show, and a polite round of laughter fluttered through the hall.

“Hold your note, Marcus!” hissed Toby from the row behind him.

But Marcus couldn’t hold anything except panic. He glanced around frantically, seeing Nelson wobbling where he’d landed—right beside Baby Jesus. The worst possible place. Nelson winked at him cheekily.

The choir launched into Away in a Manger, and Marcus knew he only had two verses to retrieve Nelson before somebody noticed an extra, very mischievous ‘gift’ in the stable.

As the children sang sweetly around him, Marcus slid off his spot on the risers, trying to look like he totally, absolutely belonged down there. He crouched low, shuffling between rows of angel wings and sheep costumes.

Nelson seemed to sense the rescue mission and, entirely unhelpfully, rolled himself deeper into the props, disappearing behind a cardboard camel.

Marcus dove.

Several parents gasped. One dad dropped his mince pie. Mrs. Pennington made a noise like a kettle boiling.

Behind the camel, Marcus spotted Nelson lodged in a clump of sparkly tinsel. He grabbed him, whispered, “You are impossible!” and jammed him back into place just as the final chord rang out.

He scrambled back to the choir, arriving exactly as the audience burst into applause. His hair was crooked, his shirt was dusty, and he might’ve accidentally sat on a shepherd’s crook—but he was back.

Mrs. Pennington stared at him with the expression of someone mentally rewriting the risk assessment.

Nelson gave a tiny, smug little spin in his socket.

As the choir took a bow, Marcus muttered, “Next year, I’m wearing goggles.”

Nelson simply winked.

By Mark “Hawkey” Harris