Christmas Wish

Carol Anne clutched her stuffed puppy as she lay asleep on the couch. Lights from the Christmas tree filled the dim room with a warm glow, occasionally casting colorful shadows across the sleeping child. The night had grow long and the guests began to leave. They said their goodbyes and quietly walked passed Carol Anne. They softly wished her a Merry Christmas, making sure not to wake her on their way out. But she was sleeping so soundly, that she never heard them leave.

After the last guest left, Carol Anne’s mother picked her up off of the couch and carried her off to bed. She placed her daughter in bed and tucked her in snugly, just the way she liked it. Her mother then kissed her on the forehead and began to walk out of the room to tend to the rest of the house. But before she could close the door, she heard Carol Anne whisper out to her.

“Mommy,” she said, still half asleep, “Do you think it is too late to ask Santa for one last thing?”

“I don’t know honey,” her mother said, walking back toward Carol Anne and sitting down next to her on the bed. “It is Christmas Eve, and Santa is very busy tonight.”

“I know mommy, but there is just one more thing that I really want.”

“Okay sweetie,” her mother said, sensing something in her child’s voice that made her realize that this last gift was very important to her. “Tell mommy what it is and I will try to call Santa and let him know. But try to understand that it may have to wait until after Christmas. Santa may have already left the North Pole and he has a lot of presents to give out...”

“Mommy...” Carol Anne said as she rolled over on to her side and began to fall back asleep. “My last wish for Santa... Is to see Daddy again...”

“Honey I don’t...” Carol Anne’s mother did not know what to say. So she leaned over, kissed her baby again, and then whispered, “I’ll tell him. But now it’s time for bed. Good night.”

Her mother kissed her one last time as Carol Anne fell back asleep with a smile on her little face. She the walked quietly out of the room and closed the door behind her. She then leaned with her back against the wall, wiped the tears forming in her eyes, and whispered to herself, “It’s my wish too...” After a moment, she composed herself and started getting the house ready for Christmas morning.

The night moved along as Carol Anne slept peacefully in her bed. She dreamt of opening presents and playing with her new toys. Eventually she began to toss and turn as her excitement began to build. Then, around 3:00 in the morning, Carol Anne found herself awake, too excited to fall back asleep. She struggled for a little while, but she could not seem to keep her eyes closed.

The excitement finally overcame her; she had to see if Santa was there. So she got out of bed and crept quietly toward the door. She carefully turned the knob to avoid waking her mother, and then slipped through the barely opened door. She inched through the dark hallway, unwilling to turn on the lights. She moved along steadily until she saw a faint glow coming from the living room. She nervously stopped in her tracks. Her first thought was that Santa might be there now; and if he caught her out of bed, he would not leave any presents. So she stood perfectly still, listening to see if Santa was really there.

There was no noise. “Mommy must have left the tree lights on again,” she thought as she continued on her quest. Each step filled her with more and more anticipation. She starting moving as fast as she could while still keeping quiet. Within a few short moments, she reached the living room entrance. She quickly turned the corner, only to find herself face-to-face with a tall, strange man.

“Hello Carol Anne,” the man said as he stood in the middle of the room, silhouetted by the light from the tree.

Carol Anne thought she recognized the man, but she was not sure. She looked at him cautiously as her eyes adjusted to the light. As his image became clearing, a huge smile moved across her face.

“Daddy!” she screamed, running toward her father’s open arms.

“I’ve missed you Carol Anne,” her father said as he bent down and picked up his little girl.

“I miss you too Daddy,” Carol Anne said while she buried her head into her father’s chest. It had been two years since she had last seen him, so she couldn’t have been happier.

Neither of them could speak for the next few minutes. They were both happy just to see each other again. The both hugged one another, trying to make up for the lost time. Finally, her father began walking toward the couch.

“Daddy,” Carol Anne started to ask as he carried her toward the couch, “are you going to live with me and mommy again?”

“I can’t stay here long, honey,” her father said as he sat down on the couch and setting her in his lap, “but I think I have time to read you your favorite story. Would you like that.”

“I would I would!” Carol Anne said excitedly. She had always loved when her father read to her. Especially when he did the voiced for all the characters.

So they sat together on the couch while Carol Anne’s father read to her. Soon, Carol Anne grew sleepy and began to rub her eyes. She tried to force herself to stay awake, but hearing her father’s voice proved to be too comforting. It was not long before she was fast asleep in his lap.
After her father finished the story, he gently laid her on the couch and covered her up with a blanket. He then stood and whispered “Merry Christmas, Carol Anne. Of all the angels I have even seen, you are by far the most precious.”

Carol Anne woke up the next morning to the gentle sound of her mother calling her name. At first she was disoriented, forgetting that she had fallen asleep on the couch.

“Merry Christmas, Carol Anne,” her mother said as her daughter began to realize it was Christmas. “Looks like someone couldn’t wait to see if Santa came.”

That’s when Carol Anne looked around and saw all of the presents. She quickly leapt off the couch and began to open her gifts. Her mother smiled as Carol Anne happily ripped off the wrapping paper, revealing the treasure inside. Carol Anne’s enthusiasm was infectious.

Once all of the presents were opened, Carol Anne began thinking about what she would play with first. As she looked over her new toys, she noticed that her mother had not opened her presents yet.

“Mommy, you should opened your presents,” Carol Anne said while opening up one of her new toys. “Maybe Daddy got you something”

“Okay dear,” her mother said, not wanting to ruin the moment for her child.

Her mother started toward her small pile of presents, but stopped short when she saw two unfamiliar packages sitting on top. One was addressed to Carol Anne, the other addressed to her. She did not remember wrapping these presents, but she had been so busy this year, she figured she would remember once they were opened.

“Carol Anne dear, there’s one more gift for you to open,” her mother said, handing Carol Anne her last gift.

Excitedly, Carol Anne grabbed the gift and began to open it. She tore off the paper, leaving a small, green box in her hand. She then opened the box and pulled out a silver heart-shaped locket.

“Mommy, look,” Carol Anne exclaimed as she held up the locket.

Her mother did not buy that locket, nor could she remember anyone buying it for her. Confused, she opened her package and found that she was given the exact same locket. She slowly opened the locket and immediately tears started running down her face. Inside of the locket, there was a small picture of the three of them: Carol Anne, herself, and her husband. it was the last picture they all took together, before he passed away.

“What’s the matter mommy?” Carol Anne asked when she noticed that her mother was crying.

“Nothing sweetie. Mommy’s fine,” she said, trying to be strong for Carol Anne. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“It was the best Christmas ever!” Carol Anne said while putting on her locket and climbing on the couch and hugging her mother. “I got everything I wanted. Even my last wish to Santa!”

Her mother looked down at her own locket and said, “I got my wish too.”

Carol Anne then hopped off of the couch and started playing with her new toys. While she played, her mother held the locket in her hand and whispered “thank you.” She then got off of the couch to join Carol Anne, smiling to see how happy her daughter was on this unforgettable Christmas morning.

Mr Kenneth

I have known Mr Kenneth for as long as I can remember. He lived a few houses down the street from me when I was growing up, so he was always around. I used to love going over to his house to play as a child; he was always so much fun. I remember those warm summer nights when he used to play hide-and-seek with my brothers and I. We used to play basketball in his driveway and go swimming in his pool. He never seemed to mind. In fact, I had an open invitation to “stop on over” whenever I wanted.

I grew up, Mr Kenneth became increasingly involved in my life. He bought me my first bike when I was 8 and coached my baseball team when I was 12. You would think that my parents would have had a problem with him being so close, but they didn’t. In fact, he was a good friend of my mother and used to talk with my dad about all sorts things. My parents used to ask him to babysit us when they wanted a night out, and he was always happy to oblige.

When I really think about it, knowing Mr Kenneth while I was growing up was truly a blessing. No matter how busy he was, he always made time for me. And I abused it. I used to run over there whenever I had a fight with my parents or I just needed to get away. If I had something on my mind, I would dump it all on Mr Kenneth. Girl problems? Go see Mr Kenneth. Trouble at school? Go see Mr Kenneth. No matter what was going on in my life, I knew I could talk to him. He kept an open mind and never judged me. If I did something stupid, he would call me on it and try to get me back on the right path. He was always there when I needed him most, which is why it was no surprise when he became my teacher.

Mr Kenneth quit his job after my freshman year and took a job teaching at my high school. It was a huge sacrifice. He spent years going back to school part time to become a teacher. He sold his house and car, and move into a small apartment that was close enough to the school for him to walk everyday. At the time, I could not understand why he would want to make such a sacrifice. Every time I asked him about it, he would tell me he was following his passion. I never really knew what he meant.

When I found out that Mr Kenneth was going to be my Chemistry teacher, I was nervous. I had known him my entire life and I was worried if he was going to embarrass me or single me out in class. It did not take long for that fear to fade away. Mr Kenneth, as it turned out, was a fantastic teacher. He was funny and treated us all like the we thought we were. He expected a lot out of us though. He handed out tough assignments and his tests were brutal. But he would not let us fail. He pushed his students when they needed to be pushed and pulled them when they needed to be pulled. He would stay late every day just in case a student would need some extra help. I found myself in his classroom after school at least a few times a week, even after I was no longer in his class.

I think I started going to Mr Kenneth’s classroom after school because I missed having him so close. Sure he still came over to visit my parents, but it was not the same. I had come to depend on him as much as I had my own parents. That being the case, I would visit him after school quite often. He would help me out with my homework if I needed it, regardless of the subject. Every so often, after the other students left, I would walk with him back to his apartment if I was really struggling or if there was something I needed to talk to about. He would fix us some dinner and devote all of his evening to helping me. No matter how many tests he had to grade or assignments he had to plan, he would push that all aside just to help me.

As my high school career was coming to a close, Mr Kenneth began helping me prepare for college. I would go over to his place on the weekends to study for my SATs. He gave me several practice tests and untold amounts of advice on improving my scores. We spent hours together looking at different schools and talking about potential career paths. He helped me so much, that when I did get accepted to school, Mr Kenneth was the first person I told. I will never forget the look in his eyes when I told him I got accepted. He looked overjoyed, and almost tearful. He told me that he was proud and that he knew I would do great.

I spent the summer after graduation working part time and hanging out with my friends. Regrettably, I stopped visiting Mr Kenneth as often, but I still did see him around. He would text me every-so-often to see how I was doing. A couple of time, my parents had him over for dinner. It was nice seeing him, but I had other things going on in my life that I thought were more important. Most people I met would have been bitter about that, but not Mr Kenneth. Anytime I told him I was busy and could not talk, he said, “I understand. Go have some fun. You only have one senior summer of your life and I need to you live it up. Just be careful, and if you need anything, you can call me at any time.” Even though I was a punk kid, I knew that Mr Kenneth would always be there for me. I just never appreciated it.

As the summer came to a close, I started feeling nervous about going away to school. It was actually keeping me up at night and causing me to drink a little more than I should have. Eventually, I could not take it anymore and I ended up calling Mr Kenneth one night. It was around three in the morning, but he answered and talked to me until the sun came up. I told him everything I was worried about and he really helped me work through it. He made me feel better. Knowing that he believed in me made a huge difference.

My mother knew that Mr Kenneth gave me confidence, which is why she invited him over on the day I left for school. I tried to act like it was no big deal, but I was scared. Having Mr Kenneth there helped a lot. He helped pack up the care and made the dumbest jokes, but he kept everything loose. When I was finally pack and ready to leave, Mr Kenneth went to shake my hand, but I said no. I hugged him instead, and thanked him for everything he had done for me. As I got into the car with my parents, I looked back and saw tears in his eyes. He looked so happy and sad at the same time. As we drove off, my phone started to buzz. Mr Kenneth had sent me a text saying “I am so proud of you and I know you will succeed at anything you wish. I am only a call away if you need me.” For the first time, I really began to realize how much Mr Kenneth had meant to me.

Over the years at college, I spoke with Mr Kenneth less and less. I would see him on most holidays and would call him every now and then to see how he was doing. Occasionally, I would have him read over a paper I had written or had him help me with an assignment that caused me grief. We were still close, but it was not the same. I was so busy discovering myself that I barely had time for my parents, yet alone Mr Kenneth. I now keep telling myself “that was what supposed to happen at college,” but I still regret not making more time for him.

Despite this, Mr Kenneth was at the ceremony when I finally graduated. In fact, he recorded the whole thing. Again, he told me how proud he was of me and that I could always call him if I needed anything. He told me that same thing when I moved away to being my career. He told me that same thing on my wedding day. He even told me that after my son was born, though he also said he had no intention of changing diapers. Now that I think about it, Mr Kenneth always managed to be there during the most important times in my life.

Even though I saw him less and and less, he would continue to be there for me, but not just for me. He would help my wife when she went back to school to get her masters degree. Every Christmas and Birthday, my son would get more gifts from him than you could imagine. True, we didn’t talk as often, but our bond was still there, and it expanded to my family as well.

That’s why I rushed to see him when I got the call that he had fallen ill. Mr Kenneth had gotten cancer, but he never told me. I assumed that he wanted to continue to be strong for me, but it really didn’t matter. As soon as I heard he was dying, I caught the first flight that I could. By the time I got to the hospital, I was sick to my stomach. In fact, it took me an hour to work up the nerve to see him. When I did, my heart sank. He looked so old and frail. I had never seen Mr Kenneth look so weak. I refused to believe that it was him at first. I couldn’t believe it. But then I saw his eyes. I knew he was in terrible pain, but he eyes danced as soon as they saw me. No matter how much pain he was in, he could not hide the happiness he felt as I walked into the room.

“Quit being such a wuss and get over here.,” he said to me. “I don’t think I’m contagious, so you don’t even need sanitizer.”

I chuckled slightly as I sat down in the chair next to him. There were tube and wires all over the place. My mother was sitting in a chair off in the corner. She looked like she had not slept in days. The whole scene was very surreal. I tried to take it all in, but I couldn’t, the moment was too big for me.

Mr Kenneth must have known that I was struggling because he began asking about my family. I told him how my son was starting little league and that my wife and I were thinking about having another child. I rambled on and on about my family and what was going on in my life. Mr Kenneth just sat there and smiled. It was like old times. Talking with him made me feel better.

After a few minutes, I noticed that Mr Kenneth had tears in his eyes. It was then that he grabbed my hand and told me this:

“I just want you to know, that I do not regret any of this. You have no idea what it means to me to have been a part of your life. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I thank God everyday that you were born. I am so proud of the man you have become. Be sure to take care of your mother for me...”

Mr Kenneth struggled to get the words out. I started to cry as my head began spinning. I looked over and I saw my mother get out of the chair and rushed toward the bed. Everything became hazy, so I am unsure of what happened, but I heard Mr Kenneth utter his last words clear as day.

“And take care of the grand kids...”

With that, Mr Kenneth passed away. I sat there stunned and confused, unaware of the commotion going on around me. Nothing made sense. My wife and son flew in for the funeral and we stayed with my parents for a few days. I was broken hearted. For the first time in my life, Mr Kenneth would not be there for me. It made me feel empty, like a part of me had left with him. Eventually, my family and I returned home to our lives. I tried to do the best I could, but I kept thinking about Mr Kenneth and how much he had meant to me. I wish I would have told him as much, but I believe he knew by me just being there. At least that is what I told myself.

A couple of weeks passed and I was doing my best to continue on with my life. I was depressed, but I tried to hide it. I just wanted to feel normal again. His final words kept circling inside of my head. The whole ordeal scraped against my brain. Then one day I received a strange call. I listened in silence as he talked. When he was finished, I hung up the phone and sat there with a blank stare. My wife then came up to me and asked me who was on the phone, obviously concerned.

“Mr Kenneth’s executor,” I said with bewilderment. “He told me that Mr Kenneth has left everything to me...”

It was at that moment, his final words began to make sense.

The Road

Charles looked out of the car’s window for something familiar. It was about three in the morning and he was hopelessly lost. There was not a single road sign or landmark that he recognized. Charles anxiously tried to remember his route, but he could not figure out how he became so lost. He was sure that he followed the directions his friend provided, at least he thought he was sure. But the further he drove, the less certain he became.

Charles had been driving for over an hour when he finally decided to call his friend for help. He pick up his phone and a look of disgust grew on his face. The battery must have died while he was at the party.

“That figures,” Charles thought while dropping his phone into the passenger seat. Frustration started building as the reality of his situation set in. “I should have never went to that damned party. This whole day has been a nightmare.”

Charles began thinking about how everything went poorly that day. Being lost was the icing on the cake. While he reflected through, he continued to drive down that strange road. Charles was so lost in thought that turning around never occurred to him. He became so immersed in his own misery, that he did not notice that there were less street lights the further he drove. He never noticed that buildings grew scarce, replaced by fields and the occasional wooden fence. He didn’t even notice that the road was no longer paved

.
The combination of frustration and fear began to fill his body. He gripped the steering wheel tighter as his vision became tunneled. He convinced himself that, if he just kept going, he would eventually find something he recognized. No matter how many wrong turns he had taken, he believed he would see some sort of sign that he could use to get him back on the right path. Charles clung to that thought and tried to reassure himself that nobody stays lost forever.

Charles lost all sense of his surroundings as panic crept up his spine. He no longer paid attention to his surroundings or even to the road itself. He just drove, foolishly believing that the only way out of this mess was to keep going. He drove increasingly faster with each passing minute. His heart raced and his breaths grew short. Charles tried to keep his composure, but he was losing control of himself. Then he noticed how dark everything was had become.

Charles looked out of the windows but could not see anything. The moon and the stars were completely hidden. There were no buildings or structures of any kind. The only thing Charles could see was a dense, intimidating darkness that he had never experienced before in his life. Charles was terrified, and that terror only worsened when he realized that his headlights were being consumed by the darkness. Charles could no longer see a thing.

The panic began to overwhelm him. He thought about pulling over to the side of the road to collect himself. He thought that maybe he was just tired and needed to calm down. He thought that the rest would help him clear his mind. He thought all of these things, but he could not force himself to pull over. He tried to slow down, but he could not force to go toward the brake. Charles could not stop driving. It was as if something was pulling him along that road. By now he was squeezing the wheel so hard, his fingers were going numb. Every muscle in his body tightened to the point he could not move. He told himself to pull off to the side of the rode. He thought this over and over. Just when he was about to lose all control, Charles screamed and lurched the wheel with everything he had. Dirt flew into the air as the car sharply veered right. Still screaming, Charles closed his eyes as the car dove off of the road.
When Charles opened his eyes again, he found himself laying in what appeared to be a field. He sat up slowly and began to look around. He had no idea where he was or how he got there. Charles sat there confused until he suddenly realized that he was no longer in his car! The last thing he could remember was veering off the road, but everything after that was a mystery. He quickly climbed to his feet and began to search for any sign of his car, but it was still too dark to see anything.

Charles was now frightened beyond description. He just stood in the middle of the field and shook. He wanted to cry and scream and run away, but all he could to was stand there and shake. Then Charles heard something echo in the darkness and a chilled wind started to blow behind him. Charles turned around sharply to see what caused the noise. Though it was dark, he thought he could see figures shifting in the distance. His mind might have been playing tricks on him, but he swore they were walking towards him.

Charles began fighting to take control of his body. The first step was the hardest, but quickly managed to start running. He ran from the figures with everything he had, but he could still feel them closing in on him. He ran blindly in the darkness hoping to get away from whatever was behind him. The wind picked up as Charles ran and the air grew colder with each step. Charles knew that they were gaining on him, whatever they were.

Charles finally worked up the courage to look back to see if they were still coming. But as he turned his head, his foot caught against something and he stumbled to the ground. Charles then slid into what felt like a large rock. He lay there stunned for a few seconds before using the rock to pull himself up. As he stood up, he noticed the rock had a strange feel to it. It was as if the rock were shaped purposefully. It was then he realized that it was not a rock he fell into; it was a tombstone. Charles was in the middle of a graveyard.

His heart plummeted into his stomach as he tried not to think about what was chasing him. He took off running again but found himself tripping and stumbling over more and more graves in the unrelenting darkness. He staggered on as best as he could, desperate to escape that place. He struggled blindly through the ever increasing amount of tombstones hoping not to be caught. Charles moved slower and slower as fatigue started to claim his body and hopelessness claimed his mind. He was determined to get away until he tripped and fell one last time.

Charles panted as he lay on the ground. He couldn’t run any more. Tears began to fill is eyes as he thought that this was it. There was no going back now. He could feel himself starting to cry when he caught a glimpse of light not too far up ahead. Suddenly he felt a sliver of hope inside and he managed to get back to his feet.

Charles now pushed himself toward the light. He didn’t care what it was. All he knew was that it made him believe that he still had a chance. He no longer looked back as he worked to get to the light. As he got closer, he saw where the light was coming from. He could not believe his eyes; there in front of him was his car. Charles then picked up his pace, overjoyed and relieved to have found his car. He now knew that he was going to be okay. But as he approached the car, he thought he saw someone sitting inside. It looked like a young boy, and like he was smiling at Charles. Charles rubbed his eyes and looked again, but the boy was gone.

Charles instantly convinced himself he was seeing things from being in the dark for too long. He got inside the car and began to follow his tire tracks back toward the road. The wind began to howl as he drive off, and he swore it sounded like it was saying “don’t go.” But Charles didn’t pay attention and eventually found the road.

By now the sun was starting to rise and the darkness lifted. Charles felt much better now, though he was exhausted. Maybe that was the reason he felt compelled to continue in the direction he was going last night. He no longer was worried about being lost; he was simply glad to be alive. So he continued going down the road, not really paying much attention to anything. His eyelids began growing heavy as everything caught up to him.

Suddenly Charles sat up with a start. He must have dozed off for a second, but that’s all it took. He didn’t see the boy run out in front of him until it was too late to top. The only thing he could do was swerve to avoid the child. When he did, he sped straight into a tree. The car crumpled like tin foil and entombed Charles. The airbag never deployed. Blood oozed down his face and into his eyes. Charles found it difficult to breath and began to feel faint. Slowly, he turned his head and saw the child that ran out into the road. He began to cry. His vision was hazy, but he could tell that it was the same boy from the graveyard. The same boy that was sitting inside of his car. He could tell because he recognized the smile. That smile was the last thing he ever saw.

Statues

“Do you remember war?” Claude asked while running his hand over a scar on his right shoulder.

“Not really,” Roger responded. “All I remember is that war was pointless. We are much better off without it.”

Claude leaned forward in his chair and stared out into the world. Everything he could see was perfect. The skies were clear and bright, the air was refreshing and clean. Everything had a purpose and nothing was out of place. It was perfect, but Claude found it very discomforting. He just couldn’t forget the events that occurred during his 261 years of life.

He then looked over at Roger and said “I remember war very clearly. I remember it being the single worst thing I have ever experienced. But I miss it.”

Roger’s eyes squinted as they peered over at Claude. “Did you just say that you missed the single worst thing that has ever happened?”

Roger had been friends with Claude for over a century. He was used to Claude’s ramblings, but the idea of Claude missing war puzzled him greatly. As Claude returned is gaze to the world at large, Roger glared at him. He was almost angry at the notion that Claude would miss something that left such a horrible mark on his body. The next few minutes went by silently as Roger wondered what his friend meant.

The Claude lowered his head and said in a solemn voice, “It’s not really war or the fighting or any of that stuff that I miss. It is the freedom. Sure, it was awful, but at least it was our choice. We can’t decide anything on our own anymore. Hell, we’ve been kept alive for over two hundred years because they have no need for us to die yet. Can’t even choose when to die.”

At that moment the air began to buzz. Both men jumped out of their chairs as tiny metallic beads began to form out of thin air. The beads swarmed around the two men. Roger’s heart began racing and his face turned white. Claude stood there, as defiant as ever. Then a thunder voice came out of the sky.

“Per regulation 07-988, this conversation is not authorized.”

“What are you going to do, kill me?” Claude said. “Good! That would finally put me out of my misery.”

The voice replied, “No. Your death would be impractical. You still produce acceptable amounts of Carbon Dioxide and we currently have no need for your blood, flesh, or organs. Your punishment for unlawful mentioning of previous history shall be stasis until we have no more need of your survival.”

With that, the metallic beads rushed inside Claude’s body. Claude let out the most horrific scream as the beads began to rearrange his cellular structure. After about thirty seconds, the beads flew out of his mouth and nose and then disappeared. Claude was left standing there; he was alive, but frozen until They decided it was okay for him to die. He was unable to speak or move. But he could see. He could see his old friend Roger drop to his knees and start to cry. He could also hear. He could hear his dear friend weep and apologize in his behalf. He wanted to tell Roger he would be okay. But he couldn’t. He was now just another living statue that dotted the landscape.

Sims

Commander Sims walked down a long corridor with a stern look on his face. The glow from his phone danced on his face as he analyzed several maps and charts. Soon, he reached the end of the corridor and stood on a square mat. After stating his name, a series of red, yellow, and blue lights began to scan him. Once his identity was confirmed, a door opened in front of him and he walked into the meeting room.

Sims found his seat and began to look around the large room. There were several high-ranking members of the New Ranger Order attending this meeting. They had gathered to plot out their next course of action. The nation was at war and the New Ranger Order had just suffered a terrible defeat

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is time to get down to business,” Governor Avery announced from his podium. “As you are all aware, we have lost Missouri to the East Coast Union. Our western territory is safe for now, but the ECU now has a foothold and can launch an attack deep into our lands. We need to address this threat immediately.”

“Let ‘em have Missouri,” shouted Commander Goodnight from his seat towards the far end of the table. “There aint much worth fighting for there anyway. I for one do not see a reason to launch a counter attack.”

“What about Fort Perot,” High Priest Tilton asked in a raspy voice. “Fort Perot is within striking distance of Missouri’s western border. If we lose Perot, we will lose the head of The Son.”

The room then went into an uproar. People were shouting and screaming at the thought of losing the fort. A couple of prominent officers even began to cry. The thought was just too much.

“Texans, Texans! We must have order,” Governor Avery called out in an attempt to settle the room. It took several minutes, but the room finally calmed down enough to let the discussions continue.

“Those rotten ECU bastards! No wonder they went after Missouri,” grumbled Captain Haley. “They want the head of Saint Bush. They know we can’t win without it. We have to protect it at all costs. Do you remember what happened when we lost the Shroud of Tyler?”

“Yeah, they launched Brimstone Missiles at Las Vegas,” answered Governor Avery as he pounded the podium with his fists.

“Exactly,” Haley continued. “I say we commit full force to defending Fort Perot.”

“But won’t that leave us vulnerable to an invasion,” Commander Sims then asked. He was a pragmatic man with a good mind for strategy. Needless to say, he was slightly shocked that the leaders were willing to risk an invasion to protect a head.

“Come on boy! This is Texas!” Commander Goodnight yelled out. “Aint nobody going to be able to invade Texas!”

Governor Avery then said, “Commander Sims, you are still relatively new to the Rangers, so we will forgive you for your blasphemy this time. You see, the head of Saint Bush has been with us since the wars began. With it on our side, God has allowed us to unify much of lands west of the Mississippi. It has given us the strength to secure the oil lines from our adopted brother in the north, Alaska. I think we can all agree, the head of Saint Bush is our top priority. We will begin deploying immediately. Commander Sims, due to your excellence in the field, I am placing you in charge of the defense of For Perot. My fellow Texans, you are all dismissed.”

Within a matter of hours, Commander Sims was on his way to Fort Perot along with millions of troops and a seemingly endless supply of guns, ammunition, and vehicles. When they arrived, the residents of Fort Perot cheered wildly. They had been worried about the head of Saint Bush and were glad to see the reinforcements.

Commander Sims wasted no time in making preparations for the defense of the fort. He made sure all potential areas for attack were secured and that munitions were readily available. He then organized the supply lines and reinforced the lines of communications. Within a few days, everything was running smoothly. Now all they had to do was wait for the inevitable attack.

Several weeks passed and the attack still did not come. Satellite images showed no troop movement and field reports indicated the same. Everyone was stunned, except for Commander Sims. He never believed that they would attack the fort in the first place. Sims tried to talk the leadership out of defending the fort with so many troops, but they would have no part of it. Saint Bush’s head was too important.

Several more weeks went by and still nothing happened. By now, the troops were wondering what they were doing there, and the leaders were as well. Then one day, just when the decision was being made to pull the troops out, all lines of communications stopped and the satellite images blacked out. Reports started coming in from the field that the ECU was mobilizing. Sims sounded the alarm. This was it.

The hours crept by slowly as they all waited for the onslaught. Commander Sims stood over several screens tensely. He wanted to be ready for when the violence began. But the fighting never happened. Not a single shot was fired. After hours of waiting, reports started coming in that the ECU was withdrawing. It was wonderful news. The soldiers cheered in complete jubilation. There was no longer a need to worry. The head of Saint Bush was safe!

Commander Sims went to report the news to the leaders, but he couldn’t. The communication lines with Texas were still blocked. This concerned Sims, but he was soon caught up in the celebration. The mood at Fort Perot was ecstatic. The party lasted several days. It was a Texas party after all. Shots from pistols were fired freely into the air and shots of whiskey were downed freely into the stomachs of the victors.

It took a Texas minute, but the party finally caught up with Sims. He went into his office and passed out on his desk. The next thing he knew, there were familiar voice trying to wake him up. He opened his eyes and saw several blurry images.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” one of the blurs called out.

Sims rubbed his eyes and slowly the images grew into focus. Once he could see, Sims found himself looking at Governor Avery, Commander Goodnight, and High Priest Tilton. They were smiling and chuckling at the hungover commander.

“What are you doing here, sirs,” Sims asked painfully while clumsily trying to stand up.

“Turns out you were right,” Governor Avery answered. “The ECU took advantage of our deployment and invaded. Texas now belongs to them.”

“Oh my God!” Sims said as he squinted and swayed. “Does this mean the war is over? We lost?”

“Shoot no, Son,” Goodnight yelled. “We still have the head. We’ll just build us a new Texas right here.”

Commander Sims became nauseated. He looked at the Governor and said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Goodnight is serious,” Governor Avery responded. “We have the head of Saint Bush and a vast majority of our forces. We can create a new Texas. One without a panhandle. I’ve always hated that thing.”

“As long as the head of Saint Bush is with us,” High Priest Tilton interjected, “God will assure our victory.”

Sims cocked his head slightly as he stared at the three men. He really wanted to believe that he was dreaming. He then stumbled out of his office and went to the upper deck. He looked out and saw people dancing and laughing. Several people wore masks of Saint Bush as they celebrated. Some even held signs proclaiming their love for New Texas. Sims couldn’t believe it. These people had just lost their homes and they were partying. It was too much for him. He dropped to his knees and started throwing up.

“That right there is a Texas-sized puke,” Commander Goodnight spouted while looking on from the office. “We could use people like that in New Texas.”

“I agree,” Governor Avery said. “But we should pray to Saint Walker, just to be sure.”

Confession

Father Jacobs was sitting the confessional waiting for the next member of the congregation when an odd feeling came over him. He felt his heart begin to race and a chilling sensation ran up his spine. Unsure of what was happening, he began taking deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down. Father Jacobs did not understand why, but he was terrified. It felt like he was about to die.

The fear grew worse with each passing second. It got to the point where Father Jacobs decided that he had to leave the confessional. He got up to leave when the door slowly opened to reveal a tall man, whose face was covered in shadow. The man walked in and began to stare directly into Father Jacobs’ eyes. Father Jacobs was paralyzed as he looked back at the man. He had never seen this person before and he wondered why he had come.

The men stared at each other in silence for only a few seconds, but to Father Jacobs it was more like several hours. It took a moment, but Father Jacobs remembered his priestly duties. He regained enough composure to invite the man to sit down, but he still felt uneasy.

“What can I do for you my son,” Father Jacobs finally asked while fighting off the massive lump that was lodged in his throat.

“I doubt you can do anything for me,” the man said while lowering his head and shifting his gaze toward the floor. His face was covered with whiskers and his eyes carried the strain of not sleeping for days.

“Did you not come here to confess your sins and to be absolved of them,” Father Jacobs asked trying to be comforting even though fear was still running through him. He had decided that, no matter how he felt, he could not turn his back on a person in need. The man was a stranger, but it was clear he needed help.

The man sat there quietly with his back hunched over and his head hanging low. Father Jacobs waited for a reply, but the man said nothing. He just sat there as the room filled with tension as the silence dragged on. It was suffocating. Father Jacobs found it becoming hard to breathe the longer the silence lasted. The walls began to close in and everything seemed to become darker. Father Jacobs began to feel panicked, and that panic grew into anger. The silence was becoming too much for him. He just wanted to scream at the man and demand he say something.

“It’s no fun, is it,” the man said quietly, finally breaking the silence. “It’s no fun waiting around for something that you have no control over. All you can do is sit there and think about what will happen.”

The man’s words angered the priest. He was in no mood for stupid games. But as angry as he was, he was more relieved that the silence was over. The tension that gripped the room lightened and Father Jacobs was able to calm himself down slightly.

After a deep breath, Father Jacobs asked, “What is bothering you? What is it that you are waiting for?”

The man then lifted his head and replied, “Forgiveness, Father. I am waiting to be forgiven.”

“Well, you have come to the right place,” Father Jacobs said with a smile. He felt more relaxed and began to think that he was getting worked up over nothing. “Tell me son, what are your sins.”

The man swallowed and then uttered in a grey voice, “I’ve killed my family.”

Any sense of comfort left in Father Jacobs was immediately destroyed. He had been a priest for several year, but he had never had any experience such as this. His body again filled with fear and he felt weak. It took Father Jacobs a minute or two before he could speak again.

“T-the Bible does tell us that all sin are forgiven though Jesus Christ,” Father Jacobs said timidly while trying to formulate a real response in his mind.

“You are saying that I am forgiven,” the man then asked, looking Father Jacobs directly in the eye.

Father Jacobs paused before answering, “Yes.”

The man then sat straight up and said, “You’re telling me that God will forgive me for killing my wife and my son. How do you know this? Are you God? ”

“N-no,” Father Jacobs replied as he began to tremble noticeably. “But I am a servant of our Lord.”

“So, through you, I can have the blood cleansed from my hands? Is that what you are telling me, because that is what I am hearing,” the man said as stared at the priest with fire in his eyes. “I seriously doubt that. In fact, I think it is a cold lie. If I can’t forgive myself, why would the ‘creator of the universe’ bother to forgive me? He has no reason to, and there is nothing you can do to change that. I don’t care what you instruct me to do because it doesn’t matter. You want to know why? It is because you are human. You are not God. You are nothing. You can’t save me. Your authority is bullshit. In fact, let me show you.”

The man then reached into his jacket and pull out a gun. He pushed the gun into Father Jacobs’ face and said, “All of the authority given to you by the Church and you are still at the mercy of a man. You don’t speak for God. You are no different from me. I should kill you right now and let you find out how close to God you really are.”

Then the man squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. Father Jacobs sat in his chair, holding his breath and shaking violently. He wanted to do something but all he could do was stare at the gun that was still shoved in his face.

“I should kill you right now,” the man said again. Then he lowered the gun and put it away. “But I will let you go on pretending that you have the power to save people.”

The man then walked out of the confessional. Father Jacobs was unable to move for several minutes, but he soon found himself crying alone in the room. Later that day, Father Jacobs left the priesthood. His still had his faith in God, but he lost faith in himself. He no longer believed he was capable of saving anyone.

Traffic

Allen was sweating even though the air conditioner was on high. He already hated traffic, but this day it was heavier than usual. The summer heat stifling and made everything worse. Allen had been sitting on the on-ramp for close to an hour, but the highway was jammed and no one was letting anybody merge. Allen grew increasingly angry. He fidgeted to unstick himself from the car seat while cursing at the cars ahead of him. He voiced his frustration through long, drawn-out honks of his horn. He even talked to himself about how miserable he was.

All Allen wanted to do was to get home. It had been a long day and he was looking forward to cooling down and relaxing. To Allen, it seemed as if fate was conspiring against him. Then, as he was beginning to think he would never get home, one of the cars stopped and let Allen merge.

“Finally,” Allen thought to himself and he joined the parade of never ending traffic. He began to drive aggressively to make up for the lost time. He cut off several cars as he changed lanes with reckless abandon. He weaved between cars trying to get just a little bit further along the crowed highway. Allen was playing a game of chicken. More than once, he was close to hitting another car. More than once, he almost was hit himself. Allen didn’t care though; he was finally making progress and that was good enough.

At one point while switching lanes, Allen caught a glimpse of the driver that had let him merge. The driver looked as if had not moved at all. Allen chuckled when he saw how far back the poor guy was.

“That’s what you get for being patient in this city,” Allen said aloud while whipping his car into a small space in the next lane. He was becoming more aggressive, but at least he was moving.

By now, the traffic had started moving at a quicker, steadier pace. Before long, Allen approached another on-ramp. He saw that there was a line of cars waiting to merge. Allen was not about to let any of them in, so he decided close the space between himself and the car ahead of him. As he began to pull up, one of the drivers from the on-ramp sped toward the narrowing space in front. Allen saw this and stepped on the gas in an attempt to cut the other driver off. The other driver did not see Allen until it was too late. The driver slammed on his breaks, but he was going too fast. Allen stepped on his breaks and instinctively swerved to avoid him. However, when he swerved, it was into the center lane of the highway. He never saw the truck that would smash into him.

The accident caused the highway to be closed off for several hours. As all of the cars merged into a single lane and crawled passed, they looked at the collision and cursed at Allen for causing the delay. Allen didn’t care though. He had died instantly in the crash. He would never see that he was now the cause of the traffic that he tried so hard to escape.

Eventually the emergency crew was able to clean up the wreck and take Allen’s body away. With consent from his family, several of Allen organs were harvested. In an ironic twist of fate, one of Allen’s kidneys was transplanted into the driver that let him merge on to the highway. The man had been dialysis and was on the waiting list for a transplant. It turned out that letting Allen merge was the best decision he ever made.