A Touch of Christmas

By N.L. Bowley

Milly has grown up in the depression era times of the nineteen thirties in Oklahoma. Her only wish was to have a Christmas surrounded by a warm fire, presents, and a genial sense of well-being. Instead she lives without and it has led to a bitterness inside her that forces her to make the ultimate decision of putting herself first; to find the Christmas she so longs for. But she questions herself: Can she do it? Can she risk everything and do anything to get what she wants despite the consequences?

• Language: English
• Publisher: N.L. Bowley
• Release date: Jun 26, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311220646

Book preview

A Touch of Christmas

By: N.L. Bowley

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2016 N.L. Bowley

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is the extended version of a flash fiction story I previously wrote in Baby Shoes: 100 Stories by 100 Authors.

Acknowledgment Page

You can kiss your family and friend’s good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.

― Frederick Buechner

Family is the most important thing in your life. They do not have to be related to you. They are someone who bring out the best in you but understand the worst. Are always there for you despite the distance. Someone you keep in your heart and mind for the rest of your life. Someone you think about with a tug at your heart and a smile on your face. Cherish those people always.

A lot of things happen in life that you can’t help and sometimes feel like you can’t get out from under. In these times I tend to think of the people who I care about and reach out to them when need be. For those I still see and talk to: Sharon and Zakia thanks for your advice and sticking with me.

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Chapter One

Milly kicked her legs on the dilapidated porch; a loud and repetitive creaking resounded with each kick. She could hear her parents in the background arguing again; the never ending subject of money. As their voices grew louder so did the ferocity of Milly’s kicks. She didn’t notice she was doing this, subconsciously she was trying to drown out the noise.

The noise seemed ever present in her life and made the negativity stand out like a glowing candle on a Christmas mantle. Christmas, a subject and holiday that never held any happiness for her. Ironically she still looked forward to it every year. It was a hope, a certain hope that came along with the Christmas season that things would change and get better.

Each year she was disappointed. Each year she wasn’t given any sort of present. It was not that her parents did not wish they could give her anything she desired, they could not afford new clothes and hardly any food, let alone a Christmas present for their only child.

Milly looked at her surroundings; the drooping aged wood of the porch and house. The cracks between the wood brought in the extremities of each season and the dust of a harsh Oklahoma climate. In summer, she sweated through her bedclothes and the lone sheet was dripping disgusting by the time she had to go to school the next morning, earning her more than one wrinkled nose of disgust by her peers.

In the winters; like now there wouldn’t be enough ragtag cloth to pile on top of her. Cold sleeting rain would find its way through the several cracks to pelt her sheltered mound and seep slowly down onto her skin. When it snowed she would shiver and shake, the East corner of her room having a fair dusting; like the first frost of the season.

All of this left her weak, tired, and almost constantly with chill and cold. Another reason for her peers to regard her with disdain. She had no friends and had instead invented an imaginary one instead. Lois, was her name, and she was currently sitting by Milly’s side whispering in her ear about how much she despised this place. Her clothes were ripped and dirty, her hair greasy and tangled, she stunk, and everyone made fun of her.

Why don’t we run away she would constantly intone? Milly of course agreed, but she couldn’t leave; something held her back. She was only a kid after all and didn’t have to imagine that life would be a lot worse than it was now. How would she provide for herself? Answer: she couldn’t. So she took Lois’s complaining and wishing of a better life with a grain of salt.

She was smarter, she knew that it wouldn’t work. Milly got up and walked away from all the noise. What she really wanted more than a new house, clothing without holes, and the friendship of her peers was a real Christmas: a Christmas with a tree, cookies, stockings, and a warm fire to hang those stockings by.

But she would never get any of that, she thought, as she kicked the frost covered dirt in front of her; fully feeling the biting chill of the wind pierce through her thin layer of clothing. Milly turned and looked back feeling the rage burn in her heart; not the warmth and love that she craved. Why did life have to be like this for her? Why were others allowed to have presents and warmth?

Milly knew that the anger expressed by Lois was her own. That she was the one who wanted to run away and be free of this spiraling hold of despair. Wrapping her arms around herself feeling that she would go crazy at any moment; she couldn’t just couldn’t take it anymore. She had to run away, but not like her friend wanted to.

No, she was going on a mission to find her own Christmas present. She didn’t know how she was going to get it or what it would be but she WAS going to find it. Resolved, Milly turned back towards the house watching her parents through the window.

The light was beginning to fade, the dark bringing more of the cold. She shivered out of fear more than the cold. Would she come back? Once she walked away could she continue? Her mother’s shoulders shook as her head went into her hands. Something terrible had just happened, she knew it. Her father looking grim tried to control her; not knowing how to console her.

Milly, taking one last glance tripped into the growing night. Her mind ran with the possibilities of what she might encounter on her journey. She dreamed of sugary candy and sweets that would rot her teeth, of soft clean clothing, lined with fur, like the kind she saw on the rich ladies walking the streets in town.

Thinking of these things muted the cold and warmed her heart. Her stride became faster and within minutes she found the dirt and dark rutted road; that led out of the poor side of town. The wind whirled and threatened of a new layer of snow. Milly’s hair whipped, its dirty strands smacking her face like small needles.

She wasn’t afraid of being spotted, cars didn’t come to this part of town, they were too afraid of its inhabitants. Her mind worked at a rampant pace of how she would finally get the Christmas that she longed for. Milly knew that because she so longed for it that she would do anything to obtain it. Even lie, cheat, and steal. She deserved it after all of these years of poverty and cold destitution.

The miles faded away in fast succession until she was staring straight at the Iron Gate. Milly looked up at the forbidding steel and hesitated. Could she really do this?

She folded her tiny hands around the wrought iron bars, feeling the pricks of the cold structure into her sensitive palms. Inside everyone was going about their business; shuffling to stores arms full of packages, talking amongst themselves with little children in fur coats and leather gloves or cashmere looking mittens pulling on their parent’s hands; trying in vain to get to the chestnut stand.

Milly could smell the delicious saltiness from where she stood. Her hungry stomach growled in protest. Without thinking about it she reached out her hand as if the bags were right in front of her. She pushed against the gate a slight squeaking sound roused the attention of two boys talking near the alleyway.

They saw Milly reach and reach, seemingly oblivious to the obstacle in front of her. Like a dumb dog who thinks that it’s will alone will make the obstacle recede or give way. They rolled their eyes in unison as if to say I can’t believe this.

The boys looked around, trying to gauge whether or not anyone else had noticed. The banging was growing louder but no one looked that way. The first boy screwed up his face in concentration trying to figure out why this was. The girl seemed to be going crazy, her hunger, and her need for a simple bag of chestnuts eliminating all sort of sense in her head.

The boys looked at each other. The same idea seeming to come to them at the same time. The second smirked, his dark and hastily cleaned smudged face making him look even more troublesome. The other pristine in appearance, because he worried about his mother’s ever present scrutiny, smiled charmingly. This was only because he could not smile in any other way.

His mother told him he was born with the face of the Gods. His father would often raise an eyebrow, grunt through his nose and retort, Yeah the face of Zeus and the mind of Hades.

His mother would often give his father a quelling glare but father and son both knew…Dad was right.

The dark boy, was a bit Italian and a bit Greek. He went by Jason the Greek, not only because of the heroic connotation with Jason of the Argonauts but because of gold. Jason was always coming up with new schemes to get more money. It simply baffled the other boys. Shouldn’t coming from a rich family keep you from such thoughts and things?

In Jason’s case it did not. He often found himself bored. An only child he could only entertain himself. His parents, had him late, and by late it was meant in their thirties. They had no time for a child and could not comprehend how they conceived one in the first place. They had been careful! They hardly saw each other at all! How could such a thing happen?

Jason tended to ignore his parent’s as he saw them as an extension of himself easily put to the side. Clarence, who couldn’t stand his name, but would never ever say anything to parent’s about it was almost Jason’s complete opposite. He tended to be a follower. Whatever Jason wanted to do he would do it. He preferred to go by Clay, no ridiculous moniker attached.

In ways they were exact opposites. Jason was dark and devious, Clarence was light and simple-minded. Not by any means dumb but he couldn’t possibly conceive of the schemes that lay in Jason’s head until they came out of his mouth.

In others; Jason and Clarence mirrored each other perfectly, both lonely and wanting. Their families were also direct opposites. Whereas Clarence’s family came to money by legitimate means; his father working long and hard to establish his clothing shop. Jason’s father was the most renowned bootlegger in the area. No one dared to cross him or mention that his son was the smallest and most devious little shite that roamed the streets. Like father like son.

Clarence’s father was respected and liked, Jason’s…well it’s obvious. The boys hanging around each other gave many the heebie geebies. Many saw it as the angel of light associating himself with the son of darkness and they looked on with apprehension and fear for Clarence’s soul. Jason seemed to be the only one who saw the irony in this and would just smirk and casually walk away.

Their latest scheme complete and Clarence’s soul still intact for the moment, the boys were just passing by a long afternoon when opportunity obligingly presented itself in the form of little Milly. Clarence could see the wheels in Jason’s devious head turning, coming up with another plan. As he often did, he waited, Jason would let him know when he was ready, a trick he knew was to follow.

Watching the little girl, who by this time had realized reaching the chestnuts through the gate