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(A Christmas Story)
By
M.D. Stephens
Copyright2012 by M.D. Stephens
For my entire family
I love and miss you all
1
Richard Shriver sits in his recliner thumbing through his latest manuscript. The proof reading stage of his writing both excites and depresses him. There are times when he reads what he’s written and thinks- Wow, I’m brilliant. Then there are times where he wonders what in the world he was thinking? At this moment, he is wondering whatever made him think he could be a successful writer. His prose are slow and boring, the story is all jumbled and hardly makes sense at times, and he is starting to feel that all his hard work was in vain.
Frustrated, he sets the book aside and strolls to the fridge for a glass of milk. As he stands taking big gulps out of the jug (something his mother told him never to do, but since he lives alone, he doesn’t think it much matters) he thinks about what he’s been doing with his life the last few years.
When he decided that he was going to become a writer he dove into it head first without looking back. At that time he had a steady girlfriend, Stacy, who supported him all the way. When he was finished with his first book, he sent it off to a couple of publishers and had many sleepless nights waiting for their response. When he finally got it, it wasn’t the response he wanted. He was told that it wasn’t quite what they were looking for and wished him better luck elsewhere.
Richard fell into a minor depression after this and slowly alienated his family and friends. He felt they were getting in the way of his creativity, and that was why he wasn’t producing the quality of book you see on the shelves of a Barnes and Noble or Borders bookstore. The only one he allowed to stick around in his life was Stacy, but with his obsessive writing and locking himself in the computer room, she insisted they should just be friends. Richard agreed, and now he had what he wanted; complete privacy. The only problem was that his work didn’t seem to be improving all that much.
With Christmas only a couple days away, he couldn’t remember the last time he had went over to his Grandmothers and spent time with his family on Christmas day. He was always invited, and he always answered the phone and said he would be there, but when the day came, he opted for staying home and plugging away on the computer. They haven’t even bothered to call him yet this year, and as far as he was concerned, no biggie. He knew he would likely not show up anyways.
He expected this Christmas would be the same as the last three. He would wake up in the morning and cook himself a big breakfast. Then he would work on his book until noon when Stacy would stop by to visit and give him a small gift. He would insist that she didn’t have to, and she would tell him to just shut up and take it. They would sit and have a quick cup of coffee and then she would be out the door to visit with her family, leaving him with the rest of the day to do whatever he pleased.
He returned the gallon of milk to the fridge and decided to call it a night. As he lay in the dark staring at the dancing shadows on the ceiling, it occurred to him that he had turned into somewhat of a scrooge. Maybe to make up for this, he would run to the store in the morning and buy Stacy a gift for a change. With this in mind, it comforted him enough to drift into a peaceful sleep.
2
The next morning, Christmas Eve, he awoke to someone banging on his door. He sat up and looked at the clock. It was only 8:00 a.m. He groggily got out of bed, wrapped himself in a robe, and shuffled to the door. When he opened it, no one was there. He poked his head out and looked up and down the apartment halls. There was no one in sight. He scratched his temple and was about to shut the door when he spotted a small package at his feet. He snatched it up, laughing to himself, and closed the door behind him.
He didn’t have to open the package to know what it was. Even though he hadn’t shown his presence at family gatherings in the last few years, he still received the same gift, at the same time every year, from one of his relatives. It was like a family tradition. It was a snow globe, and he knew this because he had a whole stack of them still in their boxes piled on top of each other in the back closet. He had been getting snow globes for Christmas ever since he could remember. He would always take them out, look them over for a few minutes, then stuff them back into their little cushioned boxes and stow them away, never to be seen again. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the idea of the gift. It was just that it represented Christmas, and joy, and family, and that was about as important to him these days as plucking his eyebrows or keeping up with the Kardashians.
He set the box on the counter and began to brew a pot of coffee. Once he had a steamy cup prepared, he headed toward the recliner to work on the book. He read a few pages, making notes here and there, and felt himself becoming angered at his lack of skills again. Deciding that he didn’t want to start the day in a crabby mood, he put the manuscript aside and decided to open the gift after all.
The first thing he noticed was that this box appeared to be bigger than the previous ones. The second thing, and the strangest, was that there was no return address. In fact, his own address wasn’t even on it. He knew there was no way his Grandmother, Aunts, Uncles, or cousins could of hand delivered it. They lived hours away. But at the same time, he knew the post office would not deliver an unmarked package. It was strange indeed, but for the time being, he decided it didn’t matter.
He cut open the top using a steak knife and shimmied the Styrofoam block out of the cardboard box. He threw the box aside, slit the two pieces of Scotch tape with his knife, and set it on the table. When he lifted the top half of the Styrofoam block off, he was amazed at the sight before him.
It was a snow globe, but it was the most dazzling one he’d ever seen. The base appeared to be made out of pure gold and sparkling diamond studs formed snowflake shapes here and there. A little turn key protruded from the base and he knew that if you turned this, you would hear light ting-tong chimes like that of a little girls ballerina music box.
He carefully lifted it out of the other half of Styrofoam and gently set it on the table before him. He examined the globe with deep fascination. Inside the glass sphere, with intricate detail, was a tiny village with tiny huts and tiny people doing tiny work. A small elf was frozen in position, half bent over with his shovel stuck in the snow. A car was permanently waiting at a stop sign. There was a bigger building with “Santa’s Workshop” painted in tiny green and red letters, and of course, there was a train track circling the entire town.
Richard turned the little key and the chimes began, and with a little laugh, he noticed the train began moving on its track as well. It was the most detailed and fancy globe he had ever received. All he could think was it had to cost a fortune.
Now for the final test, he picked the globe off the table and gave it three hard shakes. As he expected, the little village and everything else inside the glass ball disappeared in a flurry of snow. He sets it back on the table and waited for it to settle.
As the tiny flakes slowly drifted to the bottom of the globe, Richard, deciding he had enough fun for one morning, reached out to put it away when something caught his eye. He pulled his hand back and moved his face closer to the globe until his nose was almost touching. He could have sworn he saw one of the little elves move. He quickly rubbed his eyes and peered in again. An elf gave a quick wave and was still again. No, that didn’t happen. That’s not right. He kept a stern eye on the tiny village, and after a moment, nothing else did happen.
Richard sat back in his chair, took a big swig of coffee, and told himself that maybe he had been spending too much time alone in isolation, it must be making him crazy and he was seeing th
ings that weren’t really there. He decided that maybe going to get that present for Stacy, and getting a little fresh air, would put him right again. He grabbed his coat and walked out the door leaving the globe on the table.
3
Richard wandered through various jewelry and clothing stores always walking out the doors without making a purchase. It had been some time since he’d been out shopping like this, and even longer since he bought a gift for someone. He knew he had been a jerk, and he didn’t plan on changing his ways (at least not until his writing career took off), but he still wanted to get Stacy something special to show he still cared and enjoyed her company time to time.
While getting ready to walk out of the mall, he stopped by a Precious Moments stand that was set up in the aisle. Arrays of ceramic figures were lined up along the table. He plucked one from the middle and examined it. It was a little blond angel with tiny wings hovering over a weeping boy. The angel’s hand was resting on the boys head and on the bottom was written, “Guardian Angel”. Richard