The Christmas "I'm Still Alive"
The limo was eloquent in the way it spoke to the world. Even with more grace the buttons and screens touched by others but him. Assistants paid well. Owning businesses of all kinds is wonderful, but more if they are profitable, which his were. He quit counting after his first billion. That is what accountants are for. Windows of the limo tinted where no one could look in, but out, clear as day. Day seldom came in. Electronic shades always down. Money and business and having his way with women of his choosing his only thoughts. He had no feelings; he had no cares. From the days of his father and the beatings he took, pains and struggles the norm he expected for everyone. He was given; he is now giving. Enjoying every minute. Feelings he lost a long time ago. Caring gone the day his mother's face turned away from the beatings. He was no monster. His father created one. When he thought of God, he thought of his father, who lived in hell, definitely, no heaven for him. No night the same. Tonight, a drug place of white powdered riches. Things women won't do for a pleasing nose. God is no requirement for being in Heaven. Only faith he had was in himself. A man. He had no friends, but one morning in a dream he saw an outline of a man starting a journey to a gate. And, in this journey, an outline of a woman came to his side for he knew he was the man. He laughed for there were so many women and none would stand by his side without a 'morning' buzz. Therefore, a dream it was. Above Cognitive only a term in his mind, as was, that figure of God.
Blood had no effect on him. Even his own never dazed him. In the alley, this moonless night, one who had no money was paying the price. His daughter gave him what was due. Never give money to a gambler expecting him to pay his debt. "I will win enough to pay off my debt, play some for fun, and go home with my pockets filled." A fairyland more than a dream world. A fairyland never comes through; dreams sometimes do. He was high flying like a cloud until it dropped like a brick. The brick kept hitting him over and over again. His daughter rushed with the speed of her old Ford hearing the news. The blood spattered wide and far. Some hitting his shoe. Oh, we can't have that. Back him up a few more feet. For the world he lived in, he seldom got mad. It never did any good with nice old dad. And he never liked being out of control or losing his mind. Always in control. The gambler nearly gone. He had to decide live or die. It mattered so little to him. Another life. Who cares? With that thought, a car drove up. Out stepped a most beautiful woman. A knock-out in any language. A figure that wouldn't quit. The way she ran to the gambler. He watched closely her every move. No love at first sight. "Wonder what she would do for a snort?" She threw screams at him. Bounced off the wall. He motioned for her to be moved out of the way. She struggled with the heavy-set dude to no avail. Cries and tears and kicking of feet. His thumb starting down, hmmm, came to his mind. Then, her eyes hit him. A few slaps and a gut punch. Or, did she touch his heart. Did he have a heart? His thumb went up and motioned for her to be let go. She ran to her dad and comforted him. He walked fast to his limo. He sensed something new to him. The uncertainty scared him. Was he going to his limo or continuing his journey to the gate and was she the outline by his side and will they make it to Above Cognitive and God he still thought not of.
She watched with one eye as he walked away. She wanted to thank him; the hatred in her said not. Yet, there was a spark. The hospital dad went. If no charity system, died would have he for she had no money. Pride would keep her away from his caring for. The next day she came back to his room. Her little girl by her side. This day there was no limo. He walked without guards. He dressed down as best he could. The weather was getting cold and Christmas Day getting closer, so much closer. He walked into the room as if he owned it. "Oh," with a shock, "I've gotten the wrong room." She recognized him right away. With his voice, the chisel chipped a little hatred off the block. She could be civil to him. He made excuses of this and that. Staying so long. The little girl loved him so. Just something there. Minutes turned to hours. Time to go. He had no limo and it still early. "Let me treat you all to something to eat." The little girl jumped at that and mom spoke too late. A fancy place; mom and girl out of place. He told them no worries. He has a special booth in a special place. What a special place. It took their breath away. More small talk with the food; food so good. Taxi ride home he accompanied them. He had to think that night on the ride home. And several nights more of repeat performances. Each chiseling the hatred away. She wasn't sure what was taking its place. She saw in visions this journey with the outline of a man and she by his side and a gate so beautiful coming into their sights; he continued the journey beyond the gate waiting for her, yet, still no God.
His entrance this day caught him by surprise. Black jeans and shirts both the girls. Her father had died and this the day before Christmas. She pounded and pounded his chest with her fists flinging cusses like mush. He wrapped his arms around her so tight and his tears mixed with her. In a minute, or was it more, she wrapped her arms around him, too. The little girl an arm on each of two butt cheeks, crying, too. They held each for a long time. He held the staff out for her to mourn. They shook their heads from a little catnap. The little girl exclaimed, "Its Christmas!" with such joy forgetting. They both held each other; eyes fixed to their souls. Her hatred left. He felt remorse for the first time. They kissed. Then, he screamed, "We will call this The Christmas 'I'm Still Alive.' I had died those days of my father beatings and mother looking away. You have saved me and woke me up to God. I feel Him with me." If only he knew, she felt the same way, though her story was quite different. They lifted the little girl into a hug and a kiss on each cheek; only pats on the butts. Within her, she heard her dad's voice, "My prayers were answered. Do forgive him." The outlines became filled with her and him and the Aura's Gate a little ahead and listening sternly they heard at the end, "Merry Christmas! to one and all."