Do you believe in miracles or fairytales? Well…
Once in a while I write a short story to lighten the mood or pass a message and this is one of those times. I hope you enjoy it 😉. Oh, and Happy Holidays to you all.
A Christmas Miracle
Maybe it was the way she called his name as she tapped on his shoulder that made him pay close attention to her, or maybe it was the fact that she was just simple – her dressing, makeup, and hairdo – all very simple. Which was weird considering he was at a Christmas eve party where everyone was overdressed with a touch of red.
She handed him a pen, “this just fell from your pocket.”
He tried to remember where he knew her from but couldn’t. The music started booming and it quickly overshadowed the undertones of people conversing. He mouthed thanks to her and turned away, resuming his previous stance by the mini bar.
Then he remembered how she called his name. But not just her calling his name; she knew his name. How could she? He turned around and was going to ask her how she knew him but she was already moving towards the front door.
He knew her, but he was quite sure he hadn’t met her before. He got up and went after her.
It was Christmas eve.
It was the night he had believed as a child that Santa brought good things to people considering they had been good. He is man now but a part of him still believed Santa or someone up there rewarded people on Christmas eve for being good.
He had been good all year round and he had asked Santa for love.
He made his way through the small crowd towards her. But not just her, he moved towards her call to him, the call his ear didn’t recognise but his heart knew so well.
She looked back once, at the bar from the door, the last ray of hope gleaming in her eyes. And that was when she saw him making his way towards the door, his eyes on her.
She’d seen this moment in her dream once or twice in the past week.
She’d seen a man come to her at a party as she was leaving; a man whose face she couldn’t see clearly. And he had asked her if he could have one dance for “Christ’s” sake. They had danced and kissed under the mistletoe; a quick kiss on the lip. She could almost feel the kiss when she woke up. And now, John made his way towards her, just like the man in her dreams had.
Who said there was no such thing as a Christmas miracle?
He got to her and extended his arm. She held her breath and then looked down at his hands waiting for him to ask her to dance. But he was holding out the pen.
“It’s not my pen, sorry.” He said. “And I’m Josh, not John.” He smiled at her, turned back and walked away.