CHRISTMAS DAY 2015

All good things come once a year.  Like great art, an amazing idea or fabulous music, is that not so? The more rare and infrequent something is, the more appreciated.  That's how Christmas should be too.

My family and visitors arrived safe last night. Some came by car and others by train.  At this early hour of 7.10 a.m. everyone is still asleep.  Apart from me; obviously.  Having woken up around 3 hours ago, I could have done a significant amount of work by now but the body and mind weren't keen, so I decided to indulge them as they've got a busy day ahead.

I love 25th December - the tree, the decorations, the presents, the food and the company.  Whether it's turkey, chicken or goose (not that I've ever had that), the wonder of it all coming together after the non-military way it is prepared, (some call it chaotic), is quite something.  In this house we take it easy.  I can't think of anything I've forgotten and if something has been then it doesn't matter.  Anyone who thinks it does, then shame on them.  Here there's going to be noisy chatter and everyone mucking in.  I know that if I ask for help when needed, it'll be given.  It is exactly what it should be.  Hasn't always been so but life can be turned around.

As it is an occasion of giving gifts, my offering is the following 200 word flash fiction story from my 'She Dreamed Of Flash Fiction' collection.  I had set myself a challenge and loved meeting it.

Happy Christmas everyone!

Insignificant

On days when rain and traffic were friends, they were like demons fresh out of hell, going around whipping up anything they could infect, especially humans, and turn them into mindless cattle.

Pushed to the back each time a taxi arrived by elbow-using jostlers, and aware of her shortcomings, insignificant Jessica was considering returning home without going to the interview when another taxi arrived.

The passenger grimaced at the impatient, leashed crowds looking like they would haul and maul him if he dallied.  Leaning forward he paid the driver.  Getting out he obstructed the red-faced individuals with fangs at the ready.  He pointed to Jessica, a parting cleared, she came through.  ‘You’re drenched.’  He helped her in.  ‘What’s your number?’

Numb and unthinking, she quoted her destination, soon realising her mistake but he had already disappeared.  ‘Story of my life,’ she muttered.  There wasn’t any point to telling reception that should a stranger call, asking for a girl whose name he didn’t know, the message would be for her.

After her interview, she was stopped from leaving the building by the uniformed porter at the door.  Handing her a note, he winked.  ‘For the girl in the wet, red coat.’

The End