Christmas Presence (Short Story) PG-13
Posted: Sat Dec 19, 2009 10:14 am
Title: Christmas Presence
Rating: PG-13
A/N: I promised a little story to help us meet our story target and here it is!
Christmas Presence
He woke with a yawn as he usually did, that softened into a smile, which did not. Random thoughts of her often gave him comfort. He rummaged in his refrigerator, began preparing breakfast.
He’d stopped visiting her in person the year she’d turned eight years old. That was the year Jimmy Watson had told her Santa didn’t exist and she’d believed him - and because she was a clever girl he knew it wouldn’t be long before she began to wonder just exactly who it was that whispered to her through her frosted window pane every Christmas Eve. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the innocence in her eyes clouded by suspicion, the unconditional adoration sullied by those first wary signs of adulthood. The decision had made it the hardest christmas he’d faced since, well...
He didn't want to think about that year.
Watching Beth and Eileen Turner every Christmas was one of the few small pleasures he’d allowed himself in the course of his long life. Despite their lack of money, there was a warmth and generosity in the Turner household that reminded him of his own chaotic Christmases so long ago. There had always been one more place at the table at the St. John household no matter how many mouths there were to feed.
I hear Tully Johnson’s mother is in hospital, son. I have a feeling I might have promised her some of my lemon slice. Run down and fetch him here to pick it up, Michael. He may as well stay for a bite, too, seeing as he’ll be here. He’s not to worry about his state of dress, mind. Just tell him to bring a dish to bring some leftovers home in.
He’d stopped visiting his own family the year his mother died. After that the cruelty of watching his family age overcame even the crushing loneliness. He’d spent every Christmas alone since then, until little Beth had come along, and then she was lost to him, too. Oh, he had watched from a distance, but it was never quite the same as feeling the warmth of her sweet breath against his ear spilling out her special Christmas wishes, her exuberance washing him clean with the simple purity of childhood. The few short Christmas Eves he'd shared with her made him feel that despite his affliction, he, too, could be part of the good will to all men his family had raised him to respect. He missed feeling almost human once a year.
Breakfast done, he lay back in his chair, slid the needle out of his arm and leaned forward to switch on his laptop.
“A promising life cut tragically short. Tonight a killer is on the loose.”
He sat up, his body tingling.
Maybe this year, Christmas could be different.
~~~~~~~~~~
Rating: PG-13
A/N: I promised a little story to help us meet our story target and here it is!
Christmas Presence
He woke with a yawn as he usually did, that softened into a smile, which did not. Random thoughts of her often gave him comfort. He rummaged in his refrigerator, began preparing breakfast.
He’d stopped visiting her in person the year she’d turned eight years old. That was the year Jimmy Watson had told her Santa didn’t exist and she’d believed him - and because she was a clever girl he knew it wouldn’t be long before she began to wonder just exactly who it was that whispered to her through her frosted window pane every Christmas Eve. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing the innocence in her eyes clouded by suspicion, the unconditional adoration sullied by those first wary signs of adulthood. The decision had made it the hardest christmas he’d faced since, well...
He didn't want to think about that year.
Watching Beth and Eileen Turner every Christmas was one of the few small pleasures he’d allowed himself in the course of his long life. Despite their lack of money, there was a warmth and generosity in the Turner household that reminded him of his own chaotic Christmases so long ago. There had always been one more place at the table at the St. John household no matter how many mouths there were to feed.
I hear Tully Johnson’s mother is in hospital, son. I have a feeling I might have promised her some of my lemon slice. Run down and fetch him here to pick it up, Michael. He may as well stay for a bite, too, seeing as he’ll be here. He’s not to worry about his state of dress, mind. Just tell him to bring a dish to bring some leftovers home in.
He’d stopped visiting his own family the year his mother died. After that the cruelty of watching his family age overcame even the crushing loneliness. He’d spent every Christmas alone since then, until little Beth had come along, and then she was lost to him, too. Oh, he had watched from a distance, but it was never quite the same as feeling the warmth of her sweet breath against his ear spilling out her special Christmas wishes, her exuberance washing him clean with the simple purity of childhood. The few short Christmas Eves he'd shared with her made him feel that despite his affliction, he, too, could be part of the good will to all men his family had raised him to respect. He missed feeling almost human once a year.
Breakfast done, he lay back in his chair, slid the needle out of his arm and leaned forward to switch on his laptop.
“A promising life cut tragically short. Tonight a killer is on the loose.”
He sat up, his body tingling.
Maybe this year, Christmas could be different.
~~~~~~~~~~
)
