. . .
"Merry Christmas ya flithy animal."
- Home Alone 2
. . .
The moon danced a crossed the starry night. Memories of a fun game that included the moon made Chelsea giggle. She loved to pretend the moon was catching the car whenever she was with Estefan or Andrew. She never told the other that Estefan and Andrew played when the other wasn't there. That they could have played together if they didn't hold onto their childish pride. They would talk about their unique paradise while they looked for the Little Dipper, the tail of the bear.
The frosty weather rained flakes of snow and created a wondrous winter wonderland. The stretched out clouds hid the moon this time of year. Tiny Christmas lights shined on the edges of the houses that decorated Provence, Rhode Island.
Down an icy street with an army of snowmen was a special red house, a spaniard-tile grey roof with two brick chimneys that bellowed out gray smoke. This crimson house had a special bond with another home one block down. Well, less the homes but the people within.
This tiny home was crystal white, its frosty windows were framed with delicate carvings in the dark woodwork but the paint was stripped away. The snowmen was shoved to the side, the buttons and carrot nose drowned in the snow.
The last has no home to call his own. Only a boy who moved too often and carried his belongings in a black plastic bag.
These three kids were surrounded by the chaos and complexity of adulthood. Parents hoped they didn't understand and were too little to see hard reality of their circumstances.
Their age didn't define their awareness.
A single mother who drowned in bills thought her tiny daughter with the boyish smile didn't see the stress in her mother's eyes. That the little girl would always call the white home her own.
The red house was a family of four, two parents who happily slept side by side and a reckless high school senior who spent late nights with her friends and the beds of charming boys. Then a young boy with messy black hair and permanent red ears from being out in the bitter weather all day.
Finally an altruistic boy who just wants to sleep in his own bedroom.
These three kids celebrated all the seasons but it was December that pushed their spirit to overdrive. Before anyone could tell them to slow down, they were outside to kick at the snow and come home with more bruises from the rough-housing and daring stunts that they could think up. They didn't mind the stinging pain, they felt invincible.
They were wrong but no one had the heart to steal their happiness away until one Christmas rolled in that no one ever forgot.
-
ORIGINAL 2014
EDITED 2018
Damn, it's been four years and I've changed so much as a writer. I hope anyone reading this with a passion to become a storyteller continue their path.
Happy Holidays
YOU ARE READING
1995 Christmas
Short Story"Many tell us adults that we can't do swat." "Oh? And what do you say back?" "I say I'll show you!" - A short story of Chelsea, Estefan and Andrew from Providence Rhode Island who are on a mission to save Christmas from problems they can't even comp...
