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Uneasy Lies the Cap...Cont'd

fog from my breath, which lifted away from me with pieces of my eroding spirit. "I sure hope the car starts..." I muttered to my cold shoulder.

Then, in the near distance, I heard the sound of an engine turning over. With ears pricked, I could hear that it was my car, and it now sounded healthy - happy. It was as if it had never broken down at all. "Peculiar", I thought.

But before I could conclude that maybe I was daydreaming, and that the car had never really broken down, my attention was drawn to the most brilliant northern lights ever, dashing across the backdrop of stars. The panorama of powerful spires of light, led by a flighty red one to the left, and trailed by a wide shimmer of red, white and gold, was accompanied by the sound of what seemed to be hundreds of wolves ululating in rough chorus.

I climbed into my car, which, oddly, was toasty warm inside, despite its winter nap of unknown length. Pulling away from where it died, I leaned on the horn with hemisphere-waking delight, knowing that home was just one foot and a gas pedal away. As I drove the thousands of kilometers across the deserted tundra, then rolling hills, then gentle slopes of home, I had plenty of time to ponder.

It seemed as if Santa was not filled with joy, but rather he fed on joy, only giving gifts to those susceptible souls that could still fill with hope. This man who'd wanted, but failed, to cure the ills of society, had discovered that the only path to joy is hope; not faith nor expectation. His lumps of coal were actually as seeds to those barren souls who hadn't learned the value of warmth - reminders to himself that even the most impossible souls still have a chance at redemption. The coal gives Santa something to hope for. I even allowed myself to wonder if it was Santa who caused the car to break down, forcing me to hope for it to start again.

Before very long, I arrived back at the office, where much progress was made in my absence. Krista was still there, covered in dust bunnies, her hair frizzed. Greeting me as if no time had passed, she told me she'd found another note while I was gone.

The once crumpled note, again on thick, old parchment flattened itself in my hands as if by magic. "Thanks." was all it said.


                                                                                 J.D. Casnig

                                                                 Jaywalker, Dec. 2003


Uneasy Lies the Cap   Back  1  2  3  4  5  6  Short Stories Index


Jaywalker December 2003



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