It is late December; the air is cold, the winds are colder, and the sun scarcely makes an appearance. As with every winter, there comes the frost. The killer frost, that strangles plants until they shrivel and die. Every year, the plants know it is coming, the great cold death, but they can do nothing about it. They are powerless against the cold embrace of death. But their pain can be eased. They can be whispered sweet goodnights, and feel the sun as everything goes dark.

That responsibility falls to Dr. Alec Holland. Once a world renowned botanist, Alec Holland was chosen to become the Avatar of the Green. As the avatar, it falls to him to maintain the well being of the world's plant life. He is connected to every living plant on the planet, through an unseen force called The Green. He must fight to maintain a balance between his Green Kingdom, and the other kingdoms: the animal kingdom, The Red, and the kingdom of Rot. Yes, these responsibilities fall on the shoulders of one man, Dr. Alec Holland. He is the Swamp Thing, and it is a thankless job.

The winter is always a terrible time for Alec Holland. Everywhere, his green subjects are screaming out, dying of the inevitable cold. And he can hear them all, through the Green, he can hear the cries of all of the dying plants. And they don't die quickly. It is a slow and agonizing process, a plant dying.

He could tune them out. He could reach out through the Green, and focus his attention on a warm, moist area, flush with vegetation. The rain forest. His home, in the swamps of Louisiana. But Alec Holland does not. He reaches out to all of the dying plants, and sings them to sleep. Lets them know that they are not alone. That soon, the sun will be back, and they will come back to life, more beautiful than ever. It is Christmas time, and no one should be alone on Christmas. Not even plants. But then, we have Alec Holland himself. The mind of a man, and a body of plant. And he is alone. Especially on Christmas.

Christmas has become Alec Holland's least favorite time of year. It all starts so much earlier for him. Weeks before Christmas, man take to their farms and forests with hatchets and machines and begin chopping down pine trees everywhere. Christmas trees. No one considers the fact that they are murdering a living thing, for the mere novelty of keeping it in their living room, and dressing up the corpse in colorful baubles. But the Swamp Thing knows. It is agony. It is easy now, after all this time, for Alec Holland to forget that he was once human, and hold all of man in contempt. But he tries not to. Oh, God, does he try.

Moreover, though, the Swamp Thing can see all that the Christmas trees see. He tries not to, but he does. He sees families, all nestled together comfortably, opening presents and laughing. Maybe they are sitting at a dinner table, telling jokes, and eating their fill. Maybe a newly wed couple are celebrating their first Christmas together as a family, and are making love near a burning fire. The Swamp Thing sees it all, and it brings him a sorrow no one else could ever know. Alec Holland, before he was the Swamp Thing, could have had all that and more. A family. Laughter. A lover.

Alec Holland only ever had love for one woman, and that woman was Abby Arcane. Romeo and Juliet had nothing on Alec and Abby. As opposed to having rival families, Alec and Abby had rival destinies. Where as Alec was always destined to become the Avatar of the Green, Abby was the heir to the Rot. For a short time, things were okay. Even after Alec became the horrific Swamp Thing, Abby loved him no less. But once Abby's uncle, the nefarious Anton Arcane became indisposed, it was her time to become the Avatar of the Rot. She became, for lack of a better term, death incarnate. The Avatar of the Green, the Swamp Thing, representative of all that is warm, and wet, and green and living, was in love with a woman that would kill everything she touched. If they were to so much as hold hands, Alec Holland would die; along with all of the world's plant life. To him, it would be worth it. Alec Holland would gladly throw away the world, just to feel Abby's lips on his one last time. But the Swamp Thing would not. The Swamp Thing must live, and maintain life and balance. So here he is.

Alec Holland tries not to think about it, so he occupies his time with singing the dead and dying plants to sleep. He would do this now. He reaches out, through the green, and he finds a Balsam fir, a pine tree, out in Chicago. It is sitting in a parking lot, like so many are, in a big cage, waiting to be sold as a Christmas tree. It was sickly to begin with, small, with few branches, and beat up. It was dying, going out more with a whimper than a scream. Alec Holland entered the trees very being, and helped it to remember the warmth of the absent sun, and the breeze through its needles. He sang it a song, a song older than time, as it let go, and passed away. Alec Holland was about to leave, to move on to the next of his dying subjects, when he saw, through the tree, a boy. A human boy, all covered in dirt and rags, looking up at the tree, wanting. He wasn't looking at any of the big, luscious trees that were still left. He was looking at that one. Looking up at it, with big, sad eyes. After a moment a man, bearded and no better off, came along, and beckoned the boy to come along. They walked slowly away. But they had piqued the interest of Dr. Holland.

He followed them, through the green, jumping from plant to plant. They came to stay in a vacant lot, where a woman was lighting a fire with whatever rubbish she had gathered into a barrel. She hugged the man and the boy, and they all sat around the small trash fire on milk crates. These were not the subjects of the Swamp Thing, humans were creatures of Red, but nonetheless, Alec Holland felt for these people. Somewhere a bell tolled; it was Christmas day. And these people were here, barely holding on, gathered around burning garbage, because that was all they had.

Alec Holland could not have his family. He can not celebrate. But he could not stand idly by as others suffered the same fate, either. He reached out, close to the family, feeling for something green. He found green in a discarded sunflower seed, a part of someone's snack that they had dropped. He reached out to the seed, and let his unbridled power flow through it. Roots shot out of the seed, reaching and branching out, and becoming enormous as they did. The roots surrounded the family, and they shot out of their seats, huddling together, terrified of the impossible things that began happening around them. But then the roots began to take shape. The shapes of walls, that would stop the cold. The shape of a roof, that would keep out the harsh winter snow. The shapes of beds, covered in soft moss, with blankets of leaves. The small family's terrified expression changed to unhindered joy, as they realized what was happening. A Christmas miracle, if there ever was one. Branches began to erupt from the walls, all of which were brimming with resplendent fruits and vegetables. The boy reached up for an apple, grabbed it and took a big bite.

To top it all off, in the corner of the newly grown house, Alec Holland made a little, sickly Balsam fir. Despite his problems with the very concept, he knew no Christmas was complete without a Christmas tree. The boy recognized the tree, and ran up and hugged it. Alec Holland reached out through the tree, and hugged back, with weak little branches. He whispered to the boy, his voice seemingly coming from air, and said, “Merry Christmas.”

The boy backed up from the tree, looking at it in wonderment, before he ran off, laughing, to his parents, whose eyes were streaming with tears of joy. They all hugged, in the warmth of their new home.

Alec Holland's life, life as the Swamp Thing, is a lonely, thankless life. Who could possibly relate? It was easy for him to feel put out. But, in times like these, where he can see how his actions can help the world, he can't help but feel incredibly privileged. Tonight, on a night where all he had planned on doing were singing lullabies to the dying, and thinking of a future that could never happen, Alec Holland had given a family Christmas. A small ray of sunshine through the harsh winter.

The end.