Christmas Cheer

By John Bullock

This is a collection of 5 short stories set in the Christmas season, though not specifically about Christmas. All are heartwarming and family friendly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heaven's Gate Publishing
• Release date: Sep 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393168287

John Bullock

I am a pastor of many years, author, musician and sometimes actor. My wife and I live in the foothills of the beautiful Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia. I invite you to sample some of my other works as they become available. Enjoy! www.johnrbullock.com

Book preview

A Strange Winter’s Night

I

was sitting on the sofa, trying out my new stereo. I call it that to annoy   my   great-grandkids who gave it to me for Christmas. It actually plays internet downloads, a technique I had not mastered yet. I was experimenting, plugging in this, pushing that, determined to figure it out for myself. I’m not a total relic yet, I thought to myself.

The dogs were barking outside. Nothing unusual about that, here on the edge of the wilderness. But when they stopped, mid-bark, that got my attention. I listened for a bit, but hearing nothing, I rose and stepped outside, still carrying my stereo. With the porch light off, I could clearly see the stars, but not into the dark woods. It was eerily quiet, none of the usual night noises. No crickets, no tree frogs. In fact, I couldn’t hear anything. Kind of spooky, actually.

It seemed that somehow my voice had become muted, like the volume had been turned low.

No dogs.

I felt a knot of anxiety begin to grow in my stomach. I know that’s a cliché but that’s the way it felt. It was too early to worry, but, hey, I loved those dogs.

It wasn’t unusual to have the boys chase after a possum or raccoon, but even then they would come to me when I called if they were in earshot. Now my voice was inexplicably dialed down, so they likely couldn’t hear me.

Or maybe it was my hearing.

I thought about my grandmother. She had started losing her hearing when I was just a kid. She lived lots of years with impaired hearing. I remember her happy attitude during that distressing time and still admire her for it. Eventually, though, she lost all hearing. I am older now than she was when her hearing started going. Despite her cheerful heart, that hearing loss was a monumental hassle for her. For all of us, really.

Oh, Lord, please don’t let it happen to me, I said out loud, but not hearing it well.

I yelled at the dogs again. Skip came bounding into sight, always the alpha dog, laughing and barking, that joyous rascal. And true to form, tiny Rex followed closely behind, yipping and gamely trying to keep up.

I did not hear them come. And I could barely hear my own voice.

Now that lump of coal in my stomach was really growing. Instinctively I raised my hand to stick my finger in my ear. A little ear boring couldn’t hurt, right? I found a strange blockage. Alarmed, I thought, how could that grow there that fast?

Then I began to chuckle, which gave way to loud, long, holding-my-sides belly laughter. This kind of out-of-control mirth doesn’t happen often when you’re alone, but when it does, it’s a gift. Let it run!

I went back inside with the dogs. Refreshed. At peace. It was still a Merry Christmas after all.

I had forgotten to remove my earbuds!

The Visit

T

wo boys were huddled together near the schoolhouse wall, away from the others in the yard. Most of the middle school students were lined up at various school buses, waiting to board. Of the two boys, one was animated, doing most of the talking, while the other was still, head down, shaking it as if to express silent disagreement.

One of the buses honked, a brief, friendly honk. Not an angry honk, mind you, but a hurry-up-or-you-will-get-left kind of honk. The tall boy looked at the bus and nodded his head. He hurriedly thrust something into the quiet boy’s hands and ran for the bus. He was the last on board.

Thanks, Mr. Baker, he said, grinning.

No problem, Joe, the driver replied, grinning back as he closed the door.

Joe made his way to the back of the bus where another boy sat waiting. The two had been using the two rear seats for years, their family homes being in the same neighborhood. Joe sat in a seat across the aisle from the other. The reason for this unusual arrangement was that one of the boys, Randall, called Chunk by his friends, and others who were decidedly not friends, had such a generous girth that his frame took more than half a bus seat. If Joe were to attempt to sit beside Chunk, it would have left him hanging out into the aisle which the bus driver didn’t allow. So he sat across the aisle to be near his friend.

What were you doing with Alfredo? Chunk asked.

Just talkin’, Joe said. How long we been friends, Chunk?

Since preschool. You know that, Chunk said. We’re in 7th grade, so 7 or 8 years. What gives?

Joe said, I got a problem I can’t talk about to anybody else. You’re my best friend, so I don’t think you’ll laugh at me...much.

No way, man. So what’s the big hush-hush?

Joe hesitated a