A slice of life

FRANCIS IDUMA By FRANCIS IDUMA, 23rd May 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

Christmas is for all especially for children. But while some enjoys it to the fullest, others only hears the stories of the fun.

A slice of life

Jean heaved another world-weary sigh. Tucking a strand of shining black hair behind her ear, she frowned at the tower of christmas cards waiting to be signed. What was the point? How could she only sign one name? two persons requested two persons and it was only her.

The legal separation from Don had left her feeling vacant and incomplete. Maybe she could skip the cards this year. And the holiday decoration. Truthfully even a tree felt more than she could manage. Christmas was to be shared but she had no one to share it with.

The doorbell's insistent ring startled her. padding to the doors with thick socks, Jean cracked it open against the frigid December night. She peered into the empty darkness of the porch. Instead of a friendly face, something she could use about now, she found a jaunty green gift bag perched on the railing. From who? she wondered. And why?

Under the bright kitchen light, she pulled out handfuls of shredded gold tinsels, feeling for a gift. Instead her fingers plucked an envelope from the bottom. Tucked inside was a letter and it was a story..

The little boy was new to the Denmark orphanage,Jean read. Already enjoying the reading, she settled intor the kitchen chair.

From the stories of another children, he heard of a wondrous christmas tree that would appear on christmas eve and the candles that would light its branches. He heard stories of the mysterious benefactor who makes it possible every year.

The only christmas he had ever seen was through the fogged windows of other people's home. There was even more. The children insisted. More? oh yes! instead of the regular fare gruel, they would be served fragnant stew and hot bread that special night. Best of all, they would receive a special treat. He would join the line of children to receive his very own ..

Jean turned another page but instead of continuation, she was startled to read: Everyone needs to celebrate christmas. Wouldn't you agree? . Watch out for part 2. She folded the paper and kept.

The next day was so busy. That night, she came back from work. If she hurried she would probably have enough time to decorate the mantle. Opening the door, she found a green gift bag once more. She reached for it and pulled a piece of paper.

...to get his own orange,Jean read. An orange? it must be a treat. She thought.

An orange! of his own? yes, the others assured him. There would be one apiece The boy closed his eyes against the wonders of it all. A tree, filling meal and an orange of his own.

He knew the smell, tangy sweet but only the smell. He had sniffed oranges at the merchant's stall in the marketplace. Once he had even dared to rub a finger
over the brilliant pocked skin. He fancied for the days his hands once smelled orange. But to taste one, to eat one? heaven.

The story ended abruptly, but Jean did not mind because she knew more would follow.

The next day, Jean waited anxiously for the doorbells. She was not disappointed. Though, this time, the gold bag was heavier than others. She tore the envelope resting on the tissue paper.

Christmas Eve was all the chidren had been promised. The piney scent of fir competed with the aroma of lamb stew. The boy watched in amazement as each child in turn eagerly claimed an orange.

The line moved quickly and he found himself infront of the tree and equally the imposing headmaster.

"Too bad, young man, too bad. But the count was in before you arrived. It seems there are no more oranges. Next year. yes next year you will receive an orange".

Brokenhearted, the orphan raced up the stairs empty-handed to bury both hid face and tears beneath the pillow.

Wait! this was not how she wanted the story to go. Jean felt the boy's loneliness and pains.

The boy felt a gentle tap on his back. He tried to still his tears. The tap became more insistent until he raised his head from the pillow.

He smelled it before he sae it. A napkin rested on the mattress. Tucked inside was a peeled orange, tangy sweet. It was made of segments from the others. A slice donated from each child. Together they added up to make one whole, a complete fruit.

An orange of his own

Jean swiped at the tears flowing down her cheeks. From the bottom of the gift bag, she pulled out an orange--a foil-covered chocolate orange--already separated into segments. And for the first time in weeks, she really smiled.

She set about making copies of the stories. There was Mrs potter across the street spending christmas all alone. There was Mary down the block, facing her second round of radiation. Her running partner,Jane, single-parenting a difficult teen. Lonely Mr Johnson losing his sight ,and sue, sole care giver to his aging mother.

A piece from her might help make one whole.

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Christmas, Earn Money, Experience, Freelancing, Kids, Kindness, Life, Make Fast Money, Online Job, Online Jobs, Write For Wikinut

Meet the author

author avatar FRANCIS IDUMA
born in Nigeria and the 2nd child out of four children. i had my primary and high school education at my country.

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