My way to wish you all a really, really Merry Christmas...
A short story about Christmas I wrote last year for a competition (I got the 3rd place...)
A short story about Christmas I wrote last year for a competition (I got the 3rd place...)
UNCHANGEABLE MOMENTS
Who once told us that love can prevail through anything? You and you and you! But who believes in fate? A serendipity may change one’s life forever. It can be your Christmas gift or your help to smile again. Duncan cried every single year for Anna. Christmas hasn’t the same meaning it used to have. But somehow someone can change his thoughts. If you believe in love then you know all the shapes it can take. All this happens in a season of true believers. Let someone remind you that Christmas is every day, and you can believe again, Duncan!
DUNCAN’S POV
THE 24th DECEMBER - A FEW YEARS AGO
"Ask me where the worst place can probably be...well I'm already there!" I feel terrible, as if there is nothing left for me to live, to fight for- it is all gone... How and why could God take her away from me like that? On Christmas Eve... I could say it is ironic... It would be our first Christmas together! Lisa, my sister and Anna's best friend is here, right next to me, trying to cope with the tears and the pain, trying to find the right words to say... She looks pale...
"Lisa!"- I hear myself murmur her name, and the she's in my arms, sobbing, and I know that I should hold her, I know that we both need it, the human contact, the love and support but all I can feel is the burden of her, there is nothing or no one that can make this better. I don't want to console or be consoled. I don't want to be touched. Our bad moments, moments of grief and pain are selfish ones! Suddenly, I break free from that kind of hug...and she stays there in the middle of the hospital, watching me leave, never to return again!
NOWADAYS
THE 23rd DECEMBER
I’ve become a writer, one of the most read I must say. No one really knows how I’m like. I don’t show up in public, I don’t give interviews, I don’t sign books. I moved from London and now I live in Liverpool.
The alarm clock rang; I got up immediately as usual. I got dressed and when I went downstairs from the top floor of the rooming house in which I lived, the only sounds I heard were the coarse sounds of sleep; the only nights burning were the lights that had been forgotten. That’s why I enjoy get up early in the morning to write. I feel that nothing and no one can ever disturb me at that early time of the day.
LATER THAT DAY
Christmas had never been a loved season for me; in fact I hated Christmas because of what it reminded me; what other, maybe regular people “saw” in Christmas I didn’t “see”, I couldn’t. I
didn’t have friends; no one had ever caught my eye in a good way...
I decided to go out anyway, maybe just to walk around the neighbourhood or go to the mall to buy some new shoes cause all the rain, that the clouds had been crying the last days, had spoiled my shoes.
As I wandered around the city, I kept analysing and drawing conclusions out of simple behaviours and sights. This was a characteristic I’ve always had and perhaps what made me such a good writer.
Beginning the fall, there was always this excitement about Christmas and how it was a day for them. After Thanks-giving, they couldn’t miss it, specially the children. The wreaths and decorations everywhere and bells ringing and angels pretending to fly and trees in the parks and Santa Claus on every corner. This was what Christmas was like, not only in Liverpool but everywhere and to everyone...just not for me...
I entered the mall; it was crowded as usual at this time of the year, people were all running after the best gift; I was only looking for some new shoes! All of the sudden, a girl came and bumped into me, making all of her bags fall on the floor. I apologised right away. She raised her head, and looking innocently into my eyes, she said: “It wasn’t your fault, I mean, I was the one who was running and who ran distracted and bumped into you. I should apologise, not you. I was trying to catch the bus on time for a change...But I think I’d miss it anyway...”- realising she was talking too much, she smiled shyly and added: “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m saying non-senses! Sorry...”, “That’s fine. Here; let me help you with those bags.” And by saying that I picked her bags from the floor. I don’t know why I was being so nice and helpful with a girl I had just met, but there was something in her eyes so abstract I couldn’t explain. She had just caught my eye. And how clumsy she was!!
I carried the bags for her to the next bus stop and we talking during the entire way. She was really nice... I caught myself thinking that she would be the perfect girl for me, like Anna once was, but in a different way. I’m shy and I don’t trust people easily, but she was just so clumsy and innocent that she began to tell me her whole life right away. We were like opposites but all I could say about it was that we could complete each other. “There, your bags. And thank you.”- I thanked her, don’t know why though. “Thank you? I should be thanking you, not the other way around. Thanks for being such a gentleman.” I hadn’t received such a compliment for a long time. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you in spite of the circumstances.” An awkward silence flooded between us for a few moments, but she broke the ice: “Same here. My bus has just arrived, got to go now. Bye. See you around.” And off she went, taking all her light, innocence and joy... I didn’t even have the chance to ask her her name!
THAT NIGHT
I pulled the covers up, closed my eyes and allowed myself to think. All I saw was the innocent face of the mysterious girl I met early at the mall. “I have to stop thinking about her. I met her but I’ll never be with her again and I’m not sure I want to.” I was too afraid. As I realise that those inoffensive thoughts were turning into dubious and deep thoughts and conclusions, I opened my eyes and rolled my head back and forth in the pillow. Then I turned on the right side of the bed and finally fell asleep.
THE 24th DECEMBER – Christmas Eve
The inner door swings open, and there he is, a man too young to be a doctor and he doesn’t have to say a thing, a word, because I can see what he’s bringing us and my heart seizes with the shock of it. He looks at Lisa then at me, and he drops his eyes... “I’m sorry. There was nothing more we could have done to save her. The wounds were too deep. ..”.
All of the sudden I woke up, all sweaty and scared... The same nightmare again and again... I can’t seem to let it go... I t was bad enough to think about it every single day, but even more unbearable was this nightmare, where everything seemed so real as if it was happening all over again.
DUNCAN’S POV
THE 24th DECEMBER - A FEW YEARS AGO
"Ask me where the worst place can probably be...well I'm already there!" I feel terrible, as if there is nothing left for me to live, to fight for- it is all gone... How and why could God take her away from me like that? On Christmas Eve... I could say it is ironic... It would be our first Christmas together! Lisa, my sister and Anna's best friend is here, right next to me, trying to cope with the tears and the pain, trying to find the right words to say... She looks pale...
"Lisa!"- I hear myself murmur her name, and the she's in my arms, sobbing, and I know that I should hold her, I know that we both need it, the human contact, the love and support but all I can feel is the burden of her, there is nothing or no one that can make this better. I don't want to console or be consoled. I don't want to be touched. Our bad moments, moments of grief and pain are selfish ones! Suddenly, I break free from that kind of hug...and she stays there in the middle of the hospital, watching me leave, never to return again!
NOWADAYS
THE 23rd DECEMBER
I’ve become a writer, one of the most read I must say. No one really knows how I’m like. I don’t show up in public, I don’t give interviews, I don’t sign books. I moved from London and now I live in Liverpool.
The alarm clock rang; I got up immediately as usual. I got dressed and when I went downstairs from the top floor of the rooming house in which I lived, the only sounds I heard were the coarse sounds of sleep; the only nights burning were the lights that had been forgotten. That’s why I enjoy get up early in the morning to write. I feel that nothing and no one can ever disturb me at that early time of the day.
LATER THAT DAY
Christmas had never been a loved season for me; in fact I hated Christmas because of what it reminded me; what other, maybe regular people “saw” in Christmas I didn’t “see”, I couldn’t. I
didn’t have friends; no one had ever caught my eye in a good way...
I decided to go out anyway, maybe just to walk around the neighbourhood or go to the mall to buy some new shoes cause all the rain, that the clouds had been crying the last days, had spoiled my shoes.
As I wandered around the city, I kept analysing and drawing conclusions out of simple behaviours and sights. This was a characteristic I’ve always had and perhaps what made me such a good writer.
Beginning the fall, there was always this excitement about Christmas and how it was a day for them. After Thanks-giving, they couldn’t miss it, specially the children. The wreaths and decorations everywhere and bells ringing and angels pretending to fly and trees in the parks and Santa Claus on every corner. This was what Christmas was like, not only in Liverpool but everywhere and to everyone...just not for me...
I entered the mall; it was crowded as usual at this time of the year, people were all running after the best gift; I was only looking for some new shoes! All of the sudden, a girl came and bumped into me, making all of her bags fall on the floor. I apologised right away. She raised her head, and looking innocently into my eyes, she said: “It wasn’t your fault, I mean, I was the one who was running and who ran distracted and bumped into you. I should apologise, not you. I was trying to catch the bus on time for a change...But I think I’d miss it anyway...”- realising she was talking too much, she smiled shyly and added: “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m saying non-senses! Sorry...”, “That’s fine. Here; let me help you with those bags.” And by saying that I picked her bags from the floor. I don’t know why I was being so nice and helpful with a girl I had just met, but there was something in her eyes so abstract I couldn’t explain. She had just caught my eye. And how clumsy she was!!
I carried the bags for her to the next bus stop and we talking during the entire way. She was really nice... I caught myself thinking that she would be the perfect girl for me, like Anna once was, but in a different way. I’m shy and I don’t trust people easily, but she was just so clumsy and innocent that she began to tell me her whole life right away. We were like opposites but all I could say about it was that we could complete each other. “There, your bags. And thank you.”- I thanked her, don’t know why though. “Thank you? I should be thanking you, not the other way around. Thanks for being such a gentleman.” I hadn’t received such a compliment for a long time. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It was nice meeting you in spite of the circumstances.” An awkward silence flooded between us for a few moments, but she broke the ice: “Same here. My bus has just arrived, got to go now. Bye. See you around.” And off she went, taking all her light, innocence and joy... I didn’t even have the chance to ask her her name!
THAT NIGHT
I pulled the covers up, closed my eyes and allowed myself to think. All I saw was the innocent face of the mysterious girl I met early at the mall. “I have to stop thinking about her. I met her but I’ll never be with her again and I’m not sure I want to.” I was too afraid. As I realise that those inoffensive thoughts were turning into dubious and deep thoughts and conclusions, I opened my eyes and rolled my head back and forth in the pillow. Then I turned on the right side of the bed and finally fell asleep.
THE 24th DECEMBER – Christmas Eve
The inner door swings open, and there he is, a man too young to be a doctor and he doesn’t have to say a thing, a word, because I can see what he’s bringing us and my heart seizes with the shock of it. He looks at Lisa then at me, and he drops his eyes... “I’m sorry. There was nothing more we could have done to save her. The wounds were too deep. ..”.
All of the sudden I woke up, all sweaty and scared... The same nightmare again and again... I can’t seem to let it go... I t was bad enough to think about it every single day, but even more unbearable was this nightmare, where everything seemed so real as if it was happening all over again.
I got up and looked through the window. The neighbourhood was dark. Millions and millions were sleeping and this general loss of consciousness generated an impression of abandonment as if this was the fall of the city, the end of time!
I had just made a decision. I couldn’t let a chance, serendipity, an opportunity pass me by again. I went to the mall, secretly hoping to find that girl again! Everything in Christmas seemed too artificial to me: there were children trying to convince their parents to buy them some toy, happy couples holding hands and shopping, but also sad people looking at the happy ones and wishing they were like that even if just in Christmas time... Then I saw her in the same spot as yesterday as if she was expecting me to come. “Hey there. This time I didn’t bump into you!” I guess I seemed very distant, i felt it... I just couldn’t bare the fact that I was the only one who wasn’t much happy about this “alluring“days. She must have noticed it as she asked me “Are you ok? You seem sad. Is there something worrying you?”. “No, I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t seem to fit in here!” I could see by the look on her face that she wasn’t understanding what I was trying to say. “Why all these people come at this particular time of the year to do some shopping so that they can offer things to their beloveds, when they can do it at anytime of the year? Why do people act like they’re happy when all I can see is that they’re fed up with everything?” “I see, I think I understand what you’re saying. But there is something more that makes you feel like that.” She knew I hadn’t told her everything. How did she know? I couldn’t tell her the real reason why I didn’t enjoy Christmas anymore, I haven’t told it to anyone since it happened. I don’t trust anyone that much. But I felt that I could trust her and that this time I was ready to face my pain and fears. She made me want to do it. And so I told her how I met Anna, how I loved her and how it was like to lose her over God! What she said next made me realise that although she didn’t know me well, she understood me without any effort or imagination: “I’ve been reading a book, and there is this part that fits exactly what you’ve just said. I’m not very good with words so...” And she started quoting that book: “...He felt as if he had been robbed of an enormous account of valuable things. Whether material or intangible: journeys he had planned and had not made, words he wanted to hear spoken to him and had not heard, and the words he had meant to answer with; bitter alternatives and intolerable substitutes worse than nothing; the long patient suffering of dying friendships and the dark inexplicable death of love- all we had had, and all he had missed...” I interrupted her and I could see a puzzled look on her face as I said: “...were lost together, and were twice lost in this landslide of remembered losses.” “Did you also read the book?”, she asked innocently. I was astonished; she knew a part of my book by heart! I opened another precedent by saying: “It’s mine. I mean, I wrote it. I wrote every single word you’ve just stated. But let me tell you that when I wrote them, they seemed much bitter and sharp than now.” All of the sudden, she hugged me. I haven’t been hugged since that terrible day and I thought I hated hugs! It just hit me: I missed my sister, my hometown, my friends, but I realised I didn’t miss her anymore! After that embarrassing and astonishing moment, we left the shopping heading to the bus stop like yesterday. She wanted to know everything about me so we talked all the way...
Overhead the sky was having a seizure, black above, quicksilver below, the rain coming down in “windblows arcs”, and I wouldn’t even notice but for the fact that we were suddenly- instantly- wet. Another pair of shoes spoiled. I stopped when I realised we were walking under a pouring rain. “C’mon. Move faster!”- She said and I felt her grip my elbow, and then we were running again- hurrying, sweeping, practically running like little kids. She reached the bus stop, waved at me and off she went with the bus. I t all happened in a matter of seconds, I didn’t even get a chance to tell her how meaningful and important these few moments with her were, to me!
LATER THAT EVENING
It was almost midnight, Christmas day! Everyone was with their family and friends but I was there all alone... I was in bed with a book and hardly able to focus on its clustered words and rigid paragraphs...There was the sound of the rain in the roof; intensifying, hammering at the gutters. That night...that terrible and fatidic night; for the first time since I wished I wasn’t alone that/this night.
I had just made a decision. I couldn’t let a chance, serendipity, an opportunity pass me by again. I went to the mall, secretly hoping to find that girl again! Everything in Christmas seemed too artificial to me: there were children trying to convince their parents to buy them some toy, happy couples holding hands and shopping, but also sad people looking at the happy ones and wishing they were like that even if just in Christmas time... Then I saw her in the same spot as yesterday as if she was expecting me to come. “Hey there. This time I didn’t bump into you!” I guess I seemed very distant, i felt it... I just couldn’t bare the fact that I was the only one who wasn’t much happy about this “alluring“days. She must have noticed it as she asked me “Are you ok? You seem sad. Is there something worrying you?”. “No, I’m fine. It’s just that I don’t seem to fit in here!” I could see by the look on her face that she wasn’t understanding what I was trying to say. “Why all these people come at this particular time of the year to do some shopping so that they can offer things to their beloveds, when they can do it at anytime of the year? Why do people act like they’re happy when all I can see is that they’re fed up with everything?” “I see, I think I understand what you’re saying. But there is something more that makes you feel like that.” She knew I hadn’t told her everything. How did she know? I couldn’t tell her the real reason why I didn’t enjoy Christmas anymore, I haven’t told it to anyone since it happened. I don’t trust anyone that much. But I felt that I could trust her and that this time I was ready to face my pain and fears. She made me want to do it. And so I told her how I met Anna, how I loved her and how it was like to lose her over God! What she said next made me realise that although she didn’t know me well, she understood me without any effort or imagination: “I’ve been reading a book, and there is this part that fits exactly what you’ve just said. I’m not very good with words so...” And she started quoting that book: “...He felt as if he had been robbed of an enormous account of valuable things. Whether material or intangible: journeys he had planned and had not made, words he wanted to hear spoken to him and had not heard, and the words he had meant to answer with; bitter alternatives and intolerable substitutes worse than nothing; the long patient suffering of dying friendships and the dark inexplicable death of love- all we had had, and all he had missed...” I interrupted her and I could see a puzzled look on her face as I said: “...were lost together, and were twice lost in this landslide of remembered losses.” “Did you also read the book?”, she asked innocently. I was astonished; she knew a part of my book by heart! I opened another precedent by saying: “It’s mine. I mean, I wrote it. I wrote every single word you’ve just stated. But let me tell you that when I wrote them, they seemed much bitter and sharp than now.” All of the sudden, she hugged me. I haven’t been hugged since that terrible day and I thought I hated hugs! It just hit me: I missed my sister, my hometown, my friends, but I realised I didn’t miss her anymore! After that embarrassing and astonishing moment, we left the shopping heading to the bus stop like yesterday. She wanted to know everything about me so we talked all the way...
Overhead the sky was having a seizure, black above, quicksilver below, the rain coming down in “windblows arcs”, and I wouldn’t even notice but for the fact that we were suddenly- instantly- wet. Another pair of shoes spoiled. I stopped when I realised we were walking under a pouring rain. “C’mon. Move faster!”- She said and I felt her grip my elbow, and then we were running again- hurrying, sweeping, practically running like little kids. She reached the bus stop, waved at me and off she went with the bus. I t all happened in a matter of seconds, I didn’t even get a chance to tell her how meaningful and important these few moments with her were, to me!
LATER THAT EVENING
It was almost midnight, Christmas day! Everyone was with their family and friends but I was there all alone... I was in bed with a book and hardly able to focus on its clustered words and rigid paragraphs...There was the sound of the rain in the roof; intensifying, hammering at the gutters. That night...that terrible and fatidic night; for the first time since I wished I wasn’t alone that/this night.
My bell rang. Who could it be? I didn’t believe in Santa since I was five. I opened the door and there she was once again...that mysterious girl. She was all soaked and wearing a white sweater, I could tell she was freezing... She didn’t let me say anything, she just kissed me...
A kiss full of passion and joy, a thrilling and wet kiss! As I was trying to catch my breath, she looked into my eyes sparkling her joy and sharing it with me, and said: “Merry Christmas”. And off she went, never to return again!
My face was blazing. I loved the world and the world loved me. How could a simple and little moment like this one make such an utter change? When I thought back over my life, for the first time in a long time it appeared to me in a rich and wonderful light, full of astonishing experiences (some good, others bad) and unusual friends. The mysterious girl made me realise I could trust people, I could enjoy Christmas... Christmas shouldn’t be a special season or a season at all; it should be our lives instead.
TODAY
Now I’m happy, I’m reconciled with life, but I haven’t met her again. Maybe she was someone who came my way because I was in need... I know that we were bond, on to another in licentious benevolence, for only two days that are over by now. Perhaps next Christmas I’ll bump into her again. Christmas can be a season of changes...some good ones, some bad ones... As only life itself can bring!
THE END
inspired by the short story: "Christmas is a sad season for the poor"
TODAY
Now I’m happy, I’m reconciled with life, but I haven’t met her again. Maybe she was someone who came my way because I was in need... I know that we were bond, on to another in licentious benevolence, for only two days that are over by now. Perhaps next Christmas I’ll bump into her again. Christmas can be a season of changes...some good ones, some bad ones... As only life itself can bring!
THE END
inspired by the short story: "Christmas is a sad season for the poor"
