Bedtime - A Short Story Anthology

The Christmas Child

The Christmas Child

written by Callmedarkgirl

translated by LovelyBurns

On the afternoon of December 24th, the streets of Petion-Ville are more crowded than usual. People are almost jostling out of stores where their hands have been filled with gifts. It's Christmas Eve. The magic can be felt already. Some houses are decorated with garlands which, however, can't remain lit all night due to the lack of electricity. The lucky ones were able to buy a Christmas tree to mark the event. Laughter sounds. Children run in the square under the benevolent eye of their parents whose faces radiate happiness. On one of the benches, a little boy is seated. He doesn't play. He seems distracted as if all this joy around him couldn't reach him. His eyes are lowered on his holey sneakers, he has had them for two years already. A cry diverts his attention. It's a child who jumps out of joy because his parents surprised him by bringing him a bicycle to the square.

Santa Claus came before his time this year, he thinks.

These gestures of affection between child and parent have always had the effect of rehashing bad memories for him. He was never offered the chance to know his parents. For almost six years, the street has been his only family. His parents didn't need him, maybe, or they just couldn't afford to raise him. These reflections remain unanswered as always. The only thing he remembers is that a man left him on a street on his sixth birthday. Since then, he learned to live alone, to defend himself, and to feed himself either by begging or by wiping the windows of cars whose generous drivers give him a note.

When the lamps light the ground, he realises it's already night. He is alone. The others have no doubt returned to join their respective families. He curls up on the bench, thinking it's better to sleep here tonight, but sleep won't come. For several years, he has heard of Santa Claus from other children, and he has never received visits from him. He never asks for much. New shoes would be fine. His body trembles in the cold of the night, and it makes him feel more unhappy. His face drowns in tears before his eyes finally close.

***

The night isn't long, as usual. It's as if the morning rushes to arrive to remind this poor child of his reality, which looks different in his dreams. He sits on the bench rubbing his eyes, and when he opens them, something catches his attention. In front of him, a bag sits on the floor. He looks around to verify that his owner is nearby, but he sees no one. Surprised and at the same time curious, he leans over and grabs the small card attached to the knot.

Merry Christmas, Michel. He struggles to read. It's only a bit over a month since a taxi driver who appreciates him teaches him to read.

At the sight of his name, he finds the courage to open the bag. A red shirt of his size and black pants are the first things he takes out. He also finds tons of toys and jumps with joy. By digging a little more, he discovers a pair of sneakers, and they are in his size. Joy floods his heart. This year, Santa Claus hasn't forgotten him in his list. He will wear these clothes on Christmas Eve, and it will be the happiest day of his life.

Michel gets out of his thoughts and puts the things back into the bag which he places on his shoulders. Very happy, he walks towards the district that has welcomed him for a year already. Here, children pile up in a courtyard and sleep under the stars. His joy fades for a moment when he sees the looks on the faces of his friends and the others. They aren't happy and don't feel the magic of Christmas. Some carry already their towels to clean the driver's windows. Others are gripping their stomach and yawn, they are so hungry. He notices another child walking barefoot and crying because a needle stung his heel.

He puts the bag on the ground and whistles to get their attention.

"Come here," he says.

All of them form a circle around him as he crouches down, plunging a hand into his bag.

"The shirt for Sam, the pants for Jonathan, this toy for Camille, and the other for Jean... Oh well, that's for you, Ama."

"Thank you, Michel," says each to whom he gifts something.

He continues to distribute while the cries of joy and appreciation of the children don't stop. When he notices he doesn't have enough toys to give to everyone, he advises them to play in a group, and they all agree. He only has the pair of sneakers left, but when he sees the child walking barefoot, sitting alone, he approaches him and hands them to him. His own are holey, but this boy has none at all. Who knows, Santa Claus might send him another pair next year.

"Merry Christmas," he wishes everyone with his biggest smile.

"Merry Christmas," they answer.

He grabs the bag, the only thing he has left and thinks he will be using it to sleep.

Never has Michel felt such joy. He saw their smiles, and that was enough for him as a gift. He will never complain about his fate again because it takes so little to make him happy.

He was named the Christmas Child. Since that day, he knew the spirit of Christmas is more about sharing than about receiving.