Christmas for One
November 7th 2007 00:33
A small fire lights my cottage, my only source of warmth as well. This winter is cold, too cold. A shiver passes through me as I take a seat by the fire. (No memories keep me warm.)
There is a plate of roasted pork chops on my lap, partnered with mashed potatoes showered with torn up thyme and basil. A can of cola washes it down. (If I take wine, I will just stumble further).
My chewing and the cracking of the fire are the only sounds in my home. Chew. Crack. Chew. Crack. Swig of the drink. It would be nice if a dog were at my feet so my toes wouldn't freeze so much. (I am alone. I am lonely.)
There were carolers the other nights. I pretended there was nobody home. I listened to them till they walked away, still singing. I remembered Jake, Billy, Chuck and Roanne. (They weren't absent. They were never there.)
The snow is falling quietly outside. I stand by the window and press my face against the glass. The sheen across the sky makes me feel I am in a snow globe. (I wish someone would shake it. I wish someone would turn it upside down. Just so I'd know someone's out there. Just so I know someone knows I am here.)
*****
Who is the narrator of this story? Why is s/he alone on Christmas eve? How would your story go?
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Comment by Ash
Flashes of memories
oooh this story is another great one. I think the narrator is an old spinster living during the Romantic era. She lives in an old English cottage (kinda like the one from that movie with Rene Zellweger where she plays Beatrix Potter or else from 'The Holiday') and works for a hard land owner, running the busy Manor.
She is alone because the love of her life died shortly after they married and she never could bring herself to marry another. Now she spends her hours alone and waits for death to come so that she can be reunited with her lover and spend eternity with him. Anything which is joyful she pushes away because she cannot stand to experience any happiness without him at her side.
This is fun!
Ash
Comment by Em Dy
One, an empty nester. Jake, Billy, Chuck and Roanne were her children who have moved away and out her life.
Two, a single female much like Bridget Jones who despises loneliness and wants to be loved.
Because of the porkchop, I'm more inclined to think that the narrator is not very old. Otherwise, the pork chops would be difficult to chew. The fact that they're roasted is at least a point in her favor. At least, she has her cooking to pass the time. The story would be more sad if it were a microwave dinner.
Comment by What's Your Story?
What's Your Story?
Big Day Plunge
Hi Em, wow, I love how observant you are of the details. That's right, it would've been much sadder if it were a microwave dinner she was cooking. At least she does make time to roast and put herbs in her cooking. Perhaps this is an act that gives her joy still.
Comment by Patricia
Travel Stripe
Comment by What's Your Story?
What's Your Story?
Big Day Plunge
Comment by Paul
Surreal Short Stories