A WINTER OF CHANGE[Complete]

1

Unlike any other man in his late forties Benjamin Weathers was strong that's why on an early morning he was dragging a very large pine tree towards the mayor's house. The mansion stood over a hundred metres away from where he stood. He took in a huge breath and breathed out steam, gathering his strength he began to move again.

Some men helped him get it inside the house to where it was going to stand in the large hall the mayor reserved for parties. His job was to bring the tree inside, leave and go on with his life. Maybe he would lock himself up in the cabin at the edge of the tree.

A long time ago he escaped from home, it was a disaster living there. He remembered how he nearly died that one night, the night that left his face and the rest of his body covered in burn scars. His mother was a drug addict and a whore, a very bad combination in his eyes. And on one particular night she left the gas on in the kitchen and then lit a cigarette, everything went to hell from then on.

He almost died but by some miracle he pulled through. Benjamin woke up months later, his mother long dead, already buried. He never mourned her and did not visit where she was buried. After he was discharged from the hospital he was sent to a foster home and his earlier assumptions that living with his mother was utter hell were quickly tarnished. His mother never cared about him, she acted like he never existed in her world but the beatings and the name calling he suffered at the hands of his foster parents and the other children scarred him for life.

Then one night he gathered the courage to escape and he did. He found solace in the MacArthur's house. Of course Benjamin knew that they didn't like him but pitied him. Besides he was a very reliable person when they needed a job done. Because he never go to finish highschool he couldn't get a decent job so he was stuck with them. He took care of the grounds and everything else he was told to do and at the end of the month he was paid.

He slipped through the front double doors, the snow was falling heavily this particular morning. The man shivered and slipped his hands into the pockets of his brown coat. His cabin stood in the distance waiting for him, he hurried towards it. Once he climbed the porch he fished the keys from his pants pocket and opened the door. It squeaked, he entered and closed it behind him. The inside of his cabin was small. A small fireplace he used sparingly, a single chair in the living room and a bookshelf piled up with books which looked dangerously close to collapsing. The red curtains were worn out like they had seen better days.

He went straight to his little kitchen, turned on the stove and blew himself some tea. After it boiled and its smell replaced that of the clean air in the cabin he went back to the living room, the steaming mug in his hands. Benjamin picked up a random book and opened the first page. It turned out to be A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

As he sipped his steaming tea his eyes wandered on the pages of the book. He was so deep in reading the book when a loud shrill of laughter pulled him out of his concentration. Quickly, he rose from the chair he occupied and walked to the window.
In the distance he could see a woman holding a small hand. She was covered in a long white coat. Benjamin's heart thundered in his chest. It couldn't be, he thought but the sight in the distance proved otherwise.

The woman climbed the steps and disappeared inside the house. Over the past months he had heard the whispers. Whispers of her divorce from that arrogant bastard she called a husband. People tended to avoid him but he figured they were friendly when they were gossiping.

He let the white curtains fall and sat down in his chair again. She was back, the object of his dreams and fantasies was back. Benjamin sipped from his mug, his drink slightly cold now. He felt sorry for himself, Melanie MacArthur was the woman he wanted but the one he could never have.