Christmas Visit by Stuart R. West

Sometimes the best Christmas gifts are the most unexpected ones...

* * *

The snow fell outside Aubrey’s window. Ice webbed across the panes. Veins of Old Man Winter, her father used to call them. She blew condensation on the glass, wrote with her finger. I miss you.

Christmas Eve used to be fun, one of Aubrey’s favorite times of the year. Even if it was impossible to go to sleep. But it wasn’t excitement keeping Aubrey awake, not this year. Rather, she missed her father, couldn’t stop thinking about him. The first Christmas she wouldn’t spend with him since she was a baby.

In the hallway, Aubrey’s mother called out, “Aubrey, are you asleep?”

“Yes.” She scrambled into the covers, pulled the sheet over her head.

“Doesn’t sound like it to me.” Her mother came in, sat on the edge of her bed, peeled back the sheet and giggled. “Sleeping girls don’t speak.”

“I’m trying to go to sleep.  It’s just…I miss Daddy.”

“I know you do, honey. I miss him, too.” Aubrey’s mother turned away, drew in a deep breath.  “But you know he has a job to do. An important job.”

Aubrey nodded. “Uh-huh. In Aghaffastan.”

“Afghanistan.  Fighting for freedom.”

“But…I really wish he was here. For Christmas.”

Her mother placed her hand along Aubrey’s cheek, gave her a comforting pat. “I wish he was, too. Now get to sleep, Aubrey. We can’t have you awake when Santa Claus visits.”

Santa Claus. Another reason she wasn’t in a Christmas mood. Last month Tommy and some of the other boys told her Santa wasn’t real. They said it was just their parents pretending. It couldn’t be true, they were teasing her, she just knew it. But…how can one man bring toys to children in the whole wide world in just one night?

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?”

“Is Santa Claus real? Or is he make-believe?”

Her mother blinked at her, puckered her lips like she’d just bit into a lemon. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“I dunno. Some of the boys told me he wasn’t real.”

“What matters is if you believe in Santa. Do you?”

No. “I guess so.”

“Well, there you have it. He’s real, then.”

* * *

Aubrey dreamed of her father, how he used to swing her high in the air, tossing her onto his strong shoulders. His handsome smile. How he made her feel safe, protected. Loved. A dream so sweet, yet sad. She woke up, tears stinging her eyes and an empty gnawing at her stomach.

Then she heard her mother yelp. 

“Mom?”

Footsteps clicked down the hallway. Her door opened.

“Dad?”

“Hey there, pumpkin! Merry Christmas!” Dressed in his military uniform, he swept off his hat, tucked it beneath his arm.  Still dreaming?

“Daddy!” She jumped out of bed, ran into his waiting arms. Nope, not a dream! He hoisted her high, nearly banging her head into the ceiling. 

Behind him, Aubrey’s mother grinned, the happiest she’d looked in a while. “Honestly, you two!” 

“I can’t believe it, can’t believe it, can’t believe it! It’s a Christmas miracle. Daddy I’ve missed you so much! Can’t believe it, can’t believe it, can’t believe it!”

“Slow down there, pumpkin. It’s really me. Let me get a good look at you.” He set her down, smiling at her. She bounced on her toes, doing the bathroom dance. “Yep, my little girl’s growing up. Now let’s get you back in bed.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m way too excited to sleep, Daddy!”

“Let’s give it a try.”

“How long are you gonna be here?” She climbed into bed but sat up. No way was she sleeping now. “Do you get to stay for Christmas?”

He sat next to her. “Afraid not. It’s a short trip, sweetheart. But I couldn’t just stay away from my two girls. Not on Christmas Eve!”

“How’d you get here? I mean, I thought you were in Gaffannastan!”

He laughed. “I was. In Afghanistan. But, ah…a friend gave me a ride. Best Christmas gift ever!” 

“You’re the best Christmas gift ever, Daddy!”  Afraid to lose him again, she clung to him, burying her face in his chest. “Please don’t leave, Daddy! Please.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Afraid I have to. In fact…” He squinted, looked out the window. “I think my ride’s wanting to get going. But know that I miss you and your mother. And I love you both very much.”

“Daddy…please don’t go.” She wanted to be a big girl, she really did. But she couldn’t stop the tears no matter how hard she tried. “Please…please…”

“Oh, hey now, let’s have none of this. Where’s my big girl?”

“Here?”

“I need you to be strong, sweetheart. To help look after Mommy. I’ll be home for good before you know it.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart. And speaking of hearts…” He tapped on hers. “I’m always with you, right inside your big ol’ heart. When you miss me, just look inside. That’s what I do when I miss my two gals.” He kissed her forehead, gently put her back in bed. “Love you tons and tons and bunches and bunches.”

“Love you, too, Daddy.”

“Now, I’ve got to go.” He stood, cleared his throat. Aubrey’s mother went to him and hugged him. “Love you too.”

“I know.”

“Goodbye.”

He dabbed at his eyes, put his hat back on. Quietly left, hushed as a whisper.

Aubrey’s mother climbed into bed next to her. “No more tears, honey. This is a happy occasion.”

“Okay.”

“Now…let’s watch Daddy leave.” Her grin grew, the kind that said she had a secret. With the palm of her hand, she cleared a spot on the window.

Through the falling snow, her father stepped into the sleigh and sat next to a fat bearded man. Reindeer clomped their hooves, crunching the snow. Ready for lift-off.

“Mommy? Oh my gosh! Mommy!” Her mother laughed and waved out the window.

“Merry Christmas, Aubrey!” yelled Santa. Her dad held his hand up, waving. Santa tugged on his reins, knocking her father into the seat next to Santa. Still laughing his wonderful, deep laugh, loud as thunder. The sleigh lifted, shot out of sight, leaving behind a swirl of magical snow.

“Best Christmas ever, Mommy!”

* * * 

There you have it, folks! Stuart R. West here and I am done with twelve short stories for the Lightning Quick Reads Blog! Yay! I'd like to thank Kai Strand for hosting the blog and all of the other wonderful writers I've been sharing the blog with.

Okay, folks. I'm either committing career suicide or writing my funniest novel yet:

Bad Day in a Banana Hammock.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. My first straight-up comedy. Sorry, sorry, sorry... 

Full Circle.

Bethany and her new witches take time to celebrate their first year of magic.

Bethany looked over the ocean and sighed. Hard to believe a year had passed since she first used her gift. The changes in the world were already becoming evident as crime rates dropped, politicians spoke the truth and large corporations discovered they could not manipulate determined covens of newly empowered witches and warlocks. Magic had returned to the world, in force.

Although in her local area there wasn't so much political upheaval, the local hospital and halfway houses had found the support of the local witches, invaluable. With the police now seeking magic to help solve crimes and quell trouble  makers, who knew they could face the friendly warlocks and witches in times of excitement, trouble in the district had become a rarity.

The weather for the Coffs Coven's first annual picnic was perfect. Of course.
Sunshine, blue skies and a cool breeze, courtesy of a little magic. Mark's laughter and presence added to her enjoyment. Today was a good day. Perfect day to celebrate...

Bethany stirred, the gathering's guest speaker cleared her throat and on a cue from Amber, began to speak. Forty-five newly gifted sorcerers gathered closer to hear her words. Stephanie Hillstock, wife of Daniel Hillstock, the recently deceased founder and former CEO of C.O.O.N., Clean Our Oceans Now, raised one hand. She spoke clearly, though unshed tears welled in her eyes. Stephanie, the eco-biologist and nanotech designer explained the latest breakthrough. The creation of nanites designed to break down plastic into inert, harmless molecules. The application of these new machines could clean up the islands of plastic and the soup of toxic nodules floating in the ocean's deadspots. Bethany found herself rejoicing, a flutter of excitement grew in her soul.

How could magic help? This was straight science. She listened, rapt in the idea tiny machines, guided by miniscule GPS 'pearls' could rectify the vast problem of plastic waste.

The guest speaker paused. She glanced around her audience, making eye contact. "All we need is a means of funding our research to enable a large scale manufacture and deployment of these nanites."

"How do you know they won't keep breaking down plastic that is still in use?" Amber asked.

Stephanie took a breath and began to explain. Bethany listened with interest as Stephanie explained how the GPS would limit the extent of the nanite's viability. If they floated outside the pearl's range they would become dormant. If they reentered the zone they would again become active. Simple.

As Stephanie answered several other questions, setting to rest all Bethany's queries and problems she hadn't foreseen, Bethany knew she had to help. Magic wasn't exactly what Stephanie was asking for, but funding? Bethany caught her breath. Funding? Money? Her heart raced. She knew of a charity, her favourite charity, that had come into a great deal of money recently. She knew, because a year ago she had given them a winning lotto cheque. Millions of dollars...

An email explaining Stephanie's project and need for funding, with perhaps a little spell to persuade the board of directors, and C.O.O.N. should have all the funding they could possibly need.

Bethany didn't want to wait. The charity she chose so many months ago, was perfect for Stephanie's need.  Their mission was to find and fund ways to improve life on the planet. Surely funding research and deployment of the nanites would be well within the criteria for donations.

She wanted to jump up and share her ideas, but for now she sat and  composed an email, hit send on her smart phone, breathed the warm summer air and grinned like a Cheshire cat. Tomorrow she would follow up her request with a visit. Just in case a little magic was needed.

It seemed like the coming of magic finally would make a difference to the world. Not just to the humans but to the whole planet. This was just the beginning. Bethany had discovered the limitations of magic. Curing the world's ills was more than a single coven could achieve, but a simple gift could help find an answer to Stephanie's need.

She closed her eyes, thinking how her life had changed since a stranger gave her an even stranger cube. Her choice to believe in magic changed her life and now it would change the planet. For the better.

"Bethany," Mark's voice intruded on Bethany's introspection. "Here, I brought you a gift. It isn't much, but hey, I just couldn't resist. Happy Christmas."

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Bethany could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. Even knowing his preference, Bethany found Mark attractive and over the year they became close friends. He probably didn't know how his innocent kiss could heat her blood.  Trying to put aside her discomfort, she grinned and opened the gift. Laughter bubbled and burst free as she revealed a Rubix cube. "Perfect." She managed to speak.

"Seemed appropriate." Mark settled beside her.

"Yes, it is." Bethany nodded. Today was the perfect way to celebrate the coming of magic.

Rosalie Skinner resides on the east coast of Australia when not totally immersed in the fantasy world of her writing.

Rosalie’s love of the ocean, nature, history and horses has enabled her to give her books an authentic air. Her latest achievement has been to ride through the Australian Snowy mountains and see the wild brumbies run. When not watching the migrating whales pass her doorstep she has more humble pastimes.

Other than being a published author, her greatest thrill is being a grandmother. Born over fourteen weeks early her granddaughter’s perfect development and growth are a miracle and joy.

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Christmas Eve

"You okay?" Charlie bent over the elderly man who'd slipped on the ice.

"I'm fine. Maybe a little bruised"

Charlie noticed his bare hands and dug in a pocket for gloves. "It's freezing out. Here, put these on." He glanced along the sidewalk, deserted Christmas Eve. "Are you alone? It's not safe."

"My friends are around the corner." The stranger touched Charlie's face, his smile dazzling. "Merry Christmas, Charlie."

Charlie gave him a closer look. "You too," he said, not sure how the stranger knew his name. He watched him amble off, then continued to his apartment. Once inside, he put on an old movie for company. Couldn't be helped that Ken had walked out two months ago, taking Charlie's joy with him.

He fought his loneliness, but the hurt seeped out anyway. "Why did you go?"

"He was a fool."

Charlie stared at the apparition in front of the couch. He should be terrified, but instead warmth spread through his body. He knew this man, had dreamed of him.

"Are you the ghost of Christmas present?"

The man chuckled. "I'm an elf. Stefan. Kris said you wished for me."

"Kris?"

"The man you helped earlier." Stefan’s smile started a flutter in Charlie’s heart. “He said you could use a friend.”

"You'd stay with me?"

"No, I'm taking you home with me. Say yes."

Charlie thought of his lonely life. There was nothing for him, and Stefan was his dream…

"Yes," he whispered.

"Merry Christmas, baby," the elf murmured and pulled him into his arms.

Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, and anything else that comes to mind. Oh, and a floral designer, which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

Blog: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/

Facebook:http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/diannehartsock

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/diannehartsock

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Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Dianne-Hartsock/e/B005106SYQ/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1361897239&sr=8-1

The Gift of Silence

The man stood outside the store window, shifting from foot to foot. I’d have probably gone right by him, but as I passed he looked me straight in the face, sending a chill up my back. So, instead of walking away, I found a place in the shadows and watched him.

He wore a black golf shirt with a Nike swish. His black slacks were neatly pressed, but scuffs covered the toes of his dark shoes. As he paced in front of the store as if waiting for something or someone, his left foot dragged. Maybe that was where the scuffs came from. He kept pushing dark hair out of his eyes. A girl passed him by without so much as a glance. She wore the flip-flops and short shorts. He turned away from her. Why look me in the face and ignore this young girl with long flowing blond hair?

After an interminable twelve minutes, he entered the store. I crept to the side window to get a closer view. A saleslady approached with a big hopeful smile. He jerked away as if he might flee, but she persisted. Probably learned that in Sales 101.

Peering inside, I could make out the blurry image of the saleslady as she crouched down to open a box of shiny objects. When she bent, his hand slipped around and grabbed something. He pocketed it so fast I’d have missed it if I’d blinked. Gasping in surprise, I nearly collapsed into the window. So neat. So fast.

While I recovered from the shock of having witnessed a theft, the man exited the store. He hurried in the direction downtown. With his hands tucked in his pockets and his head lowered, he wove along the street between moms with kids, students with backpacks and cyclists. I followed closely behind. What did he plan to do with his ill-gotten gains?

My friends would ask me why didn’t I go inside the store and raise the alarm. What were you thinking, watching, witnessing and doing nothing? No wonder we pay so much money for our trinkets. Thieves get away with it and it’s all the fault of people like you.. Yes, my friend, Rose, would give me such a lecture. But, I never intended to tell Rose about this. Not if I could help it.

Instead, I raced down the street, avoiding other shoppers and site-seers with the sole purpose of finding out what this strange man was up to. My watch read two-fifteen. I had missed the coffee date with my cousin. She’d forgive me. I’ll make up an excuse about traffic or something equally lame. I couldn’t think about her now. I had to see where this man led me. My curious nature would never let me rest otherwise.

Moments later he entered the parking deck. He was going to his car. Darn! Once he got in a car, I’d lose him for sure. My car was parked here as well, but on the top level. His was probably on the first level. It was impossible to imagine we’d be parked close enough for me to follow him.

He entered the elevator. The light flashed up to level 4. I raced up the stairs like a madwoman. Huffing and puffing, I reached level 4 just as the elevator doors opened. I caught a glimpse of his black form walking over to a red Kia. I made a quick turn and hightailed up to the fifth level to retrieve my car. Then I plowed down to the exit, round and round, hoping, praying. Perfect. The red Kia was just in front of me, waiting to pay. The Universe was on my side.

Mr. Thief drove slowly, obeying all the traffic rules, making it easy for me to keep him in sight. Nonetheless, I stayed one car back, not wanting to risk him seeing me. Maybe he’d remember me from the street? A shiver ran through me. What would he do, this thief? Stop his car, jump out and murder me? Absurd.

The light changed. We moved down the road. Thoughts filled my head. Had the Universe wanted me to witness this travesty? Everything seemed to be falling into place. Don’t be stupid. Rose would say to me and tell me I’m being melodramatic.

We turned into the parking lot for the Hermitage Nursing Home. This made no sense. Why not a pawn shop? Didn’t thieves go to shady shops on busy street corners with flashing neon signs to hock their merchandise. Not to a nursing home. Maybe he worked here? Maybe he was some sort of klepto and couldn’t help himself? Maybe he had no intention of hocking the stolen article? He pulled into a parking place a few steps from the entrance. I chose one farther away. From my rearview mirror, I spied him getting out of the car.

Once I got inside, he’d disappeared. Several corridors went right and left. Which way?

I approached the information desk where a girl of about twenty had her head buried in a People magazine. Her eyes filled with wonder when she finally spotted me as if I’d fallen from the moon. “Can I help you?”

“The man who just came in. He dropped a five-dollar bill in the parking lot. I ran after him, but I missed him. Do you know where he might be?”

“Oh, that’s Jerome. He’s visiting his mom. Comes every day at least once. Want me to give it to him?”

I hesitated. She noticed. “Well… I guess it won’t hurt for you to go down to room 212. It’s the last room on the right, down that corridor.” She pointed the direction.

I moseyed away as if I had all the time in the world. Once out of her view, I picked up my pace. Muffled conversation came from room 212. Mr. Thief was talking very loudly. Apparently his mom had hearing issues.

At the door, I peered inside. Mr. Thief perched on the edge of the bed containing an attractive woman with cottony white hair.

“You shouldn’t have, Jerome. I know how much this place is costing you.”

“But, mom, it’s Christmas. I wanted to give you a little something.”

“Just having you here is enough. But, I do like bracelets. You know how I like bracelets. Remember when your dad gave me a diamond bracelet—of course, I didn’t know it wasn’t diamonds then. It wasn’t till later. Remember? After he died and left nothing but bills and debts. I tried to sell the bracelet and found out it was worthless. I flushed it down the commode.”

“I remember, Mom. You told me that story. I wanted you to have a real diamond bracelet before it was too late.”

She hugged him. “This is the best gift ever.”

I backed away from the room, my heart racing.

In my car I didn’t wait for Mr. Thief, a.k.a. Mr. Nice Son to emerge.  Instead I started my car and drove home.

***

Joan Curtis is the author the award-winning novel The Clock Strikes Midnight and the newly released mystery series e-Murderer. Take a look at the book trailer for The Clock Strikes Midnight.

A Christmas Scare

A memorable Christmas scare that left us trembling

We awoke on Christmas day to a quiet house. Our kids had dispersed this holiday and left us alone to celebrate with each other. After a strong cup of coffee and a light breakfast, we illuminated the tree, turned on Jingle Bells, and opened our gifts. The late morning sun shone in through the curtains, reminding us that although December, this might prove to be a nice day.

Later, our daughter, who now lived in Rhode Island, called to wish us a Merry Christmas. We spoke to her, her husband and her two kids. They gushed over the gifts we’d sent and told us how much they wished they could see us. Blankets of snow kept them snuggled inside by the fireplace, unable to venture out. They described a perfect white Christmas.

We, on the other hand, left our little house to visit friends. We spent the afternoon sipping eggnog near our friends’ fireplace and sharing stories of Christmases past. Although sunny outside, the temperature had dropped to the single digits. Like us, our friends were celebrating their holiday alone. Their children lived in Atlanta, but had decided not to make the yearly trek to their parent’s house with gifts, kids and casseroles.

At about 5pm we arrived back to a quiet, dark house, looking forward to an evening in front of the television, watching old movies. My husband loved the AMC channel, particularly old horror movies—Lon Chaney and Vincent Price.

I decided to take a shower before we settled in.

With soap in my hair and water running down my back, a ringing sound caught my attention—a sound very much like the doorbell, but I rejected that thought because we lived deep in the woods. Our driveway made a circuitous mile-long route from the street to our sidewalk. The neighbors resided long distances away, nowhere in view. No one would ring our doorbell on Christmas night. Impossible.

Ding, dong, ding, dong. The sound persisted. I called for my husband. No response. What in the world was going on? Ding, dong, ding, dong.

I rinsed the soap from my hair and turned off the shower. That’s when I realized my husband was also in the shower in his bathroom. I raced in that direction and said,

“Someone’s at the door.”

“What? No way. Not tonight.”

“Yes, the doorbell is ringing. Listen!”

I ran to my closet to throw on some clothes.

The doorbell continued its persistent ding, dong, ding, dong. Geez, wouldn't whomever was out there just give up and decide we were out of town?

Once dressed, I peered outside. By now the sky was dark. A car crept up the driveway with its lights turned off. My heart froze.

My husband showed up, wrapped with a towel around his waist and carrying his 12- gauge-double-barrel shotgun, clearly ready to blow someone’s head off.

“What are you doing?”

“Thieves often case houses during the holidays. That car is definitely up to something.”

“But, you might shoot your leg off or worse still murder someone.” Fear gripped me.

The car crept back down the driveway near the house, lights off. Two shadowy figures emerged from the backseat. They approached the house.

“Stay here,” my husband ordered.

“Be careful,” I said with a shaky voice.

“I’m only going to scare them.” He looked pretty frightening, his hair stood up on end with soap still clinging to each tress, barefoot and with his towel wrapped at a rakish angle. Water dripped off him on his way out.

I trailed behind him. The dark figures were walking up our sidewalk as if in slow motion. One kept turning back to the car, which had begun to creep back up the hill toward the street to a position to watch and wait.

My husband went out the side door. He lifted the gun with one hand and held the towel with the other. “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

The two figures halted as if slapped. The taller one removed the hood from the hoodie.

A voice came from the car, which had once again eased back close to the house, apparently to retrieve its passengers.

“Dad, it’s us.”

I gasped.

My husband called for them to stop. But he had lowered the gun barrel and seemed to be holding the towel closer to him.

“Dad, it's us, Mary, Pete and the girls. We wanted to surprise you.”

I threw open the door. Our daughter, son-in-law and two grand children emerged from the darkness.

They had flown in from Rhode Island as a surprise. A big Christmas surprise, they explained in shaky voices. Instead they’d nearly frightened the two of us to death.

My husband, who by now was clutching the towel for dear life, standing as he was nearly naked in front of his daughter and two grand daughters, shivered from the cold and said, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your heads off.”

They began laughing, explaining how they had called us from the Boston airport this morning to wish us a merry Christmas. Laughing more. “We didn’t tell you we were about to board a plane and would see you in a few hours,” our son-in-law said. But, we didn’t find it funny. Living secluded in the woods and being surprised by a strange car creeping down our driveway like that. Nope, not funny at all.

Once everyone settled down with a warm drink, we relaxed and enjoyed the rest of that Christmas evening, grateful the day had not ended in a tragedy.

***

Joan C. Curtis recently released the e-Murderer, a psychological thriller.