(no subject)
Challenge from pax_draconis. Two of the characters are from the last Christmas Story I tried to write. It's not so much a ghost story as ... well not a ghost story. It's also 557 words long so technically should be disqualified.
I was hurrying down Toward Road with arms full of packages, when I turned into one of the alleyways that runs behind the houses, intending a short cut.
Wham!
Straight over on my arse, packages scattering, head singing the “smacked” song. I’d run full tilt into some fella. My nose pissed blood over my lips, dpwn my shirt, into the snow. I took the man for a tramp - scraggy beard, greasy hair, fat belly, dirty boots. Sprigs of holly and white-berries pinned to his lapels.
Bright, twinkling eyes.
He dabbed at blood I’d splashed onto him as I went down. Maybe he looked sad.
“Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was heading.” I said, tilting my head to slow the bleeding. He rubbed my blood between finger and thumb.
“And what do you need to see you through the Winter, little man?” he asked as he reached one callused hand down and jerked me to my feet.
"It's alright," I said, a little confused, "I don't want anything." I bent to grab packages from the snow.
He stopped me with one hand, the bloody one, and pulled back his lips to show his teeth.
“I didn't ask what you wanted." he said, finding something funny.
"Don’t go to the party. Stop smoking. Don’t go to New York in the Autumn.”
Then he leant right forward. I could taste wine on his breath, and his voice was a threatening growl as he said "Don’t hit your girlfriend any more.”
I stammered something. He reached into his coat and produced a gaudy package. He pushed it into my hands and looked past me up at the fire escape.
“Come on, we’d better get a shift on. Lot of ground to cover before the big day.”
There was a whooping yell and something jumped off the fire escape. The big man caught it, swung it onto his shoulders. It looked like a boy of eight or nine, barefoot despite the snow, cheeks red, hair pale enough to be white, laughing as he was whirled round amd up.
The man bent, nearly toppling the boy, and swung a heavy black bin-liner over his shoulders. It dripped dark brown slush into the snow.
“Can’t stay here all night chattering with you,” he said. “Places to be, people to see to. Have a good Winter.”
Then he paused and showed me his teeth again as he said with menace "I'll maybe see you next year, friend."
And then he was off, fast, through the snow. The kid on his shoulders looked back and made a face, sticking his tongue out as they rounded the corner into another alley.
I stared after them.
I tugged the paper off the package, an old fashioned wooden pencil case. I slid the lid back and then threw it away from me with a shout. Five gold wedding rings spilled out into the snow, each with a stubby human finger through it, still bloody at one end.
I looked after the guy, ready to shout, but he’d gone.
I wondered why the snow was discoloured where his bag had been sitting.
I wondered why there was snow only in this alleyway out of the whole city.
I wondered how I could avoid seeing him next year.
I was hurrying down Toward Road with arms full of packages, when I turned into one of the alleyways that runs behind the houses, intending a short cut.
Wham!
Straight over on my arse, packages scattering, head singing the “smacked” song. I’d run full tilt into some fella. My nose pissed blood over my lips, dpwn my shirt, into the snow. I took the man for a tramp - scraggy beard, greasy hair, fat belly, dirty boots. Sprigs of holly and white-berries pinned to his lapels.
Bright, twinkling eyes.
He dabbed at blood I’d splashed onto him as I went down. Maybe he looked sad.
“Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was heading.” I said, tilting my head to slow the bleeding. He rubbed my blood between finger and thumb.
“And what do you need to see you through the Winter, little man?” he asked as he reached one callused hand down and jerked me to my feet.
"It's alright," I said, a little confused, "I don't want anything." I bent to grab packages from the snow.
He stopped me with one hand, the bloody one, and pulled back his lips to show his teeth.
“I didn't ask what you wanted." he said, finding something funny.
"Don’t go to the party. Stop smoking. Don’t go to New York in the Autumn.”
Then he leant right forward. I could taste wine on his breath, and his voice was a threatening growl as he said "Don’t hit your girlfriend any more.”
I stammered something. He reached into his coat and produced a gaudy package. He pushed it into my hands and looked past me up at the fire escape.
“Come on, we’d better get a shift on. Lot of ground to cover before the big day.”
There was a whooping yell and something jumped off the fire escape. The big man caught it, swung it onto his shoulders. It looked like a boy of eight or nine, barefoot despite the snow, cheeks red, hair pale enough to be white, laughing as he was whirled round amd up.
The man bent, nearly toppling the boy, and swung a heavy black bin-liner over his shoulders. It dripped dark brown slush into the snow.
“Can’t stay here all night chattering with you,” he said. “Places to be, people to see to. Have a good Winter.”
Then he paused and showed me his teeth again as he said with menace "I'll maybe see you next year, friend."
And then he was off, fast, through the snow. The kid on his shoulders looked back and made a face, sticking his tongue out as they rounded the corner into another alley.
I stared after them.
I tugged the paper off the package, an old fashioned wooden pencil case. I slid the lid back and then threw it away from me with a shout. Five gold wedding rings spilled out into the snow, each with a stubby human finger through it, still bloody at one end.
I looked after the guy, ready to shout, but he’d gone.
I wondered why the snow was discoloured where his bag had been sitting.
I wondered why there was snow only in this alleyway out of the whole city.
I wondered how I could avoid seeing him next year.